"My name is Geronimo Caldaroz, and I am twenty-five. It has been the talk of the village why I did not marry, and it has been said it was because I had never yet seen a maiden beautiful enough to please me. But now I have found her; it is you, Rosita. Will you accept my bouquet?" He presented his bouquet to the young girl, who blushed as she received it, and then let it fall. "Refused! Refused!" whispered the spectators, whilst the young man disappeared into the crowd, and a second one took his place. But the same thing occurred, and with the same result. Soon the jasmine bouquets covered the ground round the young girl's feet. The rejected suitors multiplied so fast that they could no longer hide their discomfiture amongst the others. Restless and smiling, Don Pedro wondered why his niece was so severe, and the remaining suitors seemed to hesitate whether to advance into the lists or not. Then the last three timidly advanced one by one toward Rosita. The two first were not even heard to the end of their speech, and then all eyes were fixed with interest upon the last. Rosita let him finish his discourse, took his bouquet, which she scrutinized demurely, and then uttering a deep sigh let it fall upon the amorous trophy piled at her feet. A murmur rose amongst the stupefied villagers. Don Pedro approached his niece. "Well, my child," he said, "have you thought of what you have done?" "Yes, uncle," Rosita replied. "Did you not tell me yourself that I was perfectly free?" "Free to choose, without doubt; but not to send all your suitors away." Rosita cast down her eyes and made no reply. "Pardon me, father, but there still remains one," said Stephano, breaking the silence. "Where is he?" everyone asked at once. "Here he is." Rosita trembled so violently that she was compelled to lean for support upon her uncle's arm, and Don Pedro, more astonished than anyone, rushed towards his son. "What, Stephano?" he said joyfully. "It is your cousin whom----" "Yes, father," replied the young man. "It is she whom I love." In the midst of such general interest Stephano, pale with emotion, advanced towards his cousin. "Rosita, I love you," he said, simply. "Will you keep this bouquet which I offer to you?" The young man pronounced these words with a voice so sweet and expressive, and the gesture with which he offered the symbolic flower was so imploring and passionate, that a sympathetic thrill ran through the spectators, and tears bedimmed Don Pedro's eyes. [Illustration: "'ROSITA, I LOVE YOU,' HE SAID."] Rosita, not less pale than her cousin, took the bouquet with a trembling hand, gazed upon it tenderly, then made a movement as if to throw it down, paused, and then at last, with head turned aside, let it fall. "Santa Maria! He also!" cried the crowd, mournfully. "Do not condemn me without hearing my justification," cried Rosita, turning to Don Pedro. "Your justification?" repeated Stephano, with relief.