She rose and bowed. I did the same. I was angry with the woman and yet attracted by her, and at the same time ashamed of being so. I suppose these three conflicting emotions combined to make me careless. Anyway, the next thing that happened was that I, who never stumbled, found myself blundering over a rush-seated chair, and sweeping two dessert-plates from the table as I clutched out to preserve my balance. The waiter, who was in the room, rapped out a good round obscene oath of surprise. Nothing but the woman's action could have prevented his discovering my infirmity. She laughed amusedly, and said in Spanish, "Why, senor, one might think you were blind. You should look to your path even when you are very polite." And then she drew near me at the corner of the table, and rested her elbow against mine as skilfully and unobtrusively as Sadi himself could have done it. "You see, I know better than to grip you by the arm," she said, dropping into English again. "You have a skill and tact that not one in a million possesses. I am deeply grateful." We were at the foot of the stone stairs. I had my hand on the slim iron rail. "You will be able to get back to your rooms now?" "Perfectly." "Then again buenas." "Adios. But shall I not see you again?" She laughed quietly. "Whenever you please, sir. I shall probably be staying in this hotel for some time yet." "Would you," I began, and felt myself to flush as I spoke, though no novice at chatting with most kinds of women--"are you in a hurry, that is? Would you come out into the _patio_ down the passage yonder and sit awhile? We shall find some hammock chairs, and if the glare off those tall white walls hurts you, there is an awning to pull down." She assented very gracefully, and we sat there for a couple of hours, afterwards strolling out past the great amber-coloured cathedral, and on to the walls, whilst the sun sank into the water beyond the little lateen-sailed fishing-boats that dotted the bay. With clever, unobtrusive tact she made herself my eyes. Into her talk she infused the tale of the quick and the still things we passed in our stroll, never entering into pointed descriptions, but rather mentioning them in her chat as though they were of interest to herself alone. And afterwards, in the evening, she was kind enough to come to a box I had secured at the opera-house--a building which is almost equal to La Scala--and I had the delight of _seeing_ Balfe's "The Talisman" acted, as well as of listening to the music.