petticoats and long plaited tresses falling over their shoulders.[9] Moreover, the Andalusian girls frightened me; I was not accustomed as yet to their manners: always jesting, never a serious word. So I had my nose over my chain, when I heard some civilians say: ‘Here comes the _gitanella_!’ I raised my eyes and I saw her. It was a Friday, and I shall never forget it. I saw that Carmen whom you know, at whose house I met you several months ago. “She wore a very short red skirt, which revealed white silk stockings with more than one hole, and tiny shoes of red morocco, tied with flame-coloured ribbons. She put her mantilla aside, to show her shoulders and a huge bunch of cassia, which protruded from her chemise. She had a cassia flower in the corner of her mouth, too, and as she walked she swung her hips like a filly in the stud at Cordova. In my province a woman in that costume would have compelled everybody to cross themselves. At Seville every one paid her some equivocal compliment on her appearance, and she had a reply for every one, casting sly glances here and there, with her hand on her hip, as impudent as the genuine gypsy that she was. At first sight she did not attract me, and I returned to my work; but she, according to the habit of women and cats, who do not come when you call them, but come when you refrain from calling them,--she halted in front of me and spoke to me. “‘_Compadre_,’ she said in Andalusian fashion, ‘will you give me your chain to hold the keys of my strong-box?’ “‘It is to hold my primer’ [_épinglette_], I replied. “‘Your _épinglette_!’ she exclaimed, with a laugh. ‘Ah! the señor makes lace, since he needs pins!’ [_épingles_] “Everybody present began to laugh, and I felt the blood rise to my cheeks, nor could I think of any answer to make. “‘Well, my heart,’ she continued, ‘make me seven ells of black lace for a mantilla, pincushion [_épinglier_] of my soul!’ “And, taking the flower from her mouth she threw it at me with a jerk of her thumb, and struck me between the eyes. Señor, that produced on me the effect of a bullet. I did not know which way to turn, so I sat as still as a post. When she had gone into the factory, I saw the cassia blossom lying on the ground between my feet; I do not know what made me do it, but I picked it up, unseen by my comrades, and stowed it carefully away in my pocket--the first folly!