I now saw it in the full light of day; and well did it bear the exposure. If possible it was more perfect than ever; and the jetty eyes, the carmine tinted checks, the lips--but I had no time to observe them in detail before the carriage came close up. I saw that she was its sole occupant--unaccompanied either by sister, or _chaperone_. Even Tia Josefa was not with her! It was true, then, what Dolores had said. Poor Dolores! I could not help feeling sympathy for her; the more so that I was now the friend of her Francisco. The carriage was coming on at a slow pace. The _frisones_ scarce trotted. I had time to take some steps, which simple prudence suggested. Even love has its instincts of caution; especially when full of confidence. Mine was to seek some solitary nook of the Alameda, where I might observe without being observed--except by the occupant of the _carretela_. Fortune favoured me. A clump of Peruvian pepper-trees stood close by-- their pendant fronds drooping over the drive. Under their shadow was a recess--quiet, cornered, apparently unoccupied. It was the very spot I was in search of. In ten seconds I had placed myself under the _pimentos_. In ten more the carriage came abreast of me--still slowly moving on. My eyes met those of Mercedes! Half blinded by the blaze of her beauty, I stood gazing upon it. My glance must have betrayed my admiration; but not less the faltering fear that had hold of me. It was in my heart, and must have been symbolled in my countenance. It was the humility of a man who feels that he is not worthy of the woman he would worship; for I could have worshipped Mercedes! In five minutes afterwards I was _cursing_ her! She passed, with her eyes full upon me, but without showing any sign of recognition, either by speech or gesture! It was only after they were averted that I thought of interpreting their glance; and then I was prevented by a surprise that stupified me--a rage that almost rendered me frantic. Instead of the smile--the something more which I had been fondly expecting--the look vouchsafed to me was such as might have been given to a complete stranger! And yet it was not like this. There was salutation in it, distant, disguised under some strange reserve--to me unreadable. Was it caution? Was it coquetry? It stung me to think it was the latter. I gazed after the _carretela_ for an explanation. I was not likely to get it--now that the blind back of the vehicle was towards me, and its occupant no longer to be seen. But I had it the instant after. A little farther along the drive I saw a man pass out from among the pepper-trees; who, like myself, appeared to have been there "in waiting." Unlike me, he was on horseback--bestriding a well caparisoned steed. The man was no stranger to me. At a glance I saw who it was.