“Eat one,” she said; and as the man only stared at her with deepening color, she put one of the bonbons into her own mouth and motioned to him to follow suit. This time he obeyed her, and for the moment they had the appearance, and perhaps the sensation, of breaking bread together. “Dios de mi alma!” muttered the man, and then Lydia bowed to him gravely and turned slowly, reluctantly, and rejoined her panting family. Mrs. Moulton’s face was scarlet; she was sitting upright; the air-cushions were in a heap on the floor. Mr. Moulton’s bland visage expressed solemn indignation, an expression which he had the ability to infuse into the review of a book prudence warned him to condemn. “Lydia Moulton!” exclaimed her mother. “I am grieved and ashamed,” said her father. “Why?” asked Lydia, flippantly. “It is the custom in Spain to share with your travelling companions, and last night you said you had rather I married a Spanish peasant than a Spanish gentleman.” “I am ashamed of you!” repeated Mr. Moulton, with dignity. “Are you looking for a husband, may I ask? If so, we will go direct to Gibraltar and take the first steamer for America.” Lydia colored, but she was still in a naughty mood, and, encouraged by a sympathetic flash from Catalina, she retorted: “No, I don’t want to marry, but I do want to be able to look at a man unchaperoned by the entire family. I haven’t had the liberty of a convent girl since I arrived in Europe. I feel like running off with the first man that finds a chance to propose to me.” Mrs. Moulton, whose complexion during this outburst had faded to its normal gray tones, the little lines of cultivated worries and invalidism quivering on the surface, turned her pale gaze upon Catalina. She stared mutely, but volumes rolled into the serene, contemptuous orbs two seats away. Mr. Moulton, in his way, was a rapid thinker. “My dear,” he said, gently, to the revolutionist, “if we have surrounded you it has not been from distrust, but because you are far too pretty to be alone among foreigners for a moment. At home, as you know, you often receive your young friends alone. I am sure that when you think the matter over you will regret your lapse from dignity, particularly as you have no doubt disturbed that poor young man’s peace of mind.”