I gazed at her as one entranced. She held her hand to me, and I covered hand and arm with kisses. I was half insane with love. I craved for her lips only to get for answer, “Later.” I pressed her with questions. They had been to Madrid then to Carabanchel. By economy with my money they had now rented her present place. There was enough money left to live honestly for a month. “And after that do you seriously think I shall feel embarrassed?” Then she paused. “You do not understand me. I can still work at the factory, sell bananas, make bouquets, dance the Sevillana, can I not, Don Mateo?” Then with a sigh she leant forward, and said-- “Mateo, I will be your mistress the day after to-morrow.” “Are you sincere?” “I have said it. Leave me, Mateo. Be not impatient or jealous.” Then she left me. CHAPTER VIII Two interminable days and nights followed. I was happy and yet suffering. A kind of troubled joy seemed to dominate every other feeling. The hour of the assignation came, and I heard her softly call, “Mateo.” We kissed passionately and a long love scene followed. Questions, protestations, appeals. To hasten over what was to me a time of great stress and strain, mental and physical, let me at once say that Concha would in reality consent to nothing but this. I might live with her, worship her, love her as fervently, truly, tenderly as I liked, _but_ she was to be left wholly pure, utterly virginal. I endured this state of things for two weeks. Concha then borrowed from me a large sum to pay more debts, and the next day I found that mother and daughter had fled again! CHAPTER IX It was too much to bear. I left for Madrid, and tried to get fond of an Italian dancer. I returned to Seville, then went to Granada, Cordova, Jérez. I sought for Concha Perez. At Cadiz we met again. One evening I entered a drinking saloon. She was there dancing before sailors and fishermen. At the moment I saw her I trembled and throbbed. I must have become pale, and I felt as though I had no breath, no force, no will. I dropped down upon the seat nearest the door, and head in hands watched her. Her dance finished she came towards me. All knew her. From all sides came cries of “Conchita” that made me shudder. On all sides she cast glances. Here a smile, there a laugh, a shrug, a flower accepted, a drink sipped. She sat at my table facing me, and desired coffee. I said in a low voice that I tried to steady-- “Then you fear nothing, Concha, not even death.” “You would not kill me.” “Do you dare me to.” “Yes, here or where you will. I know you, Don Mateo, as though you were borne in my bosom nine months.” Bitter reproaches followed, and I taunted her. She rose, furious, and, vowing by her father’s tomb that she was virtuous, left me. CHAPTER X After all that had happened I had three paths open before me-- To leave her for ever; To force her to stay with me; To take her life.