of you were together.

— How absurd!

— Yes, but that changes nothing. You could have gone out without anyone noticing anything. And it is truly a wonder that Pepe should stay away from the most splendid ball of the season, and the last.

The wife held for a moment to her silence, then presently said:

— The day after our conversation about his case, I wrote to him saying that in future we should meet only when circumstances forced us to meet. Perhaps that is the reason why neither of us went to the ball tonight.

They were silent a few moments. Don Pedro looked at the floor, but he felt his wife's eyes fastened upon him. I forgot to tell you that Don Pedro had one advantage over all his friends — an inconvenient one, alas. He was the finest shot in Andalusia.

Soledad asked him:

— What are we to do?

He answered as he went out:

— You know that I have no choice in the matter.

The next day he went to his club and mingled with a group who were watching the passers-by from the window. Pepe Alvarez was among them, and the talk turned on last night's ball. Someone asked him:

— Where were you, Pepe?

He answered:

— My mother was ill and I had to go to Carmona. I was very sorry indeed, but it was much better so.

And he turned laughing to Don Pedro:

— I hear you were in luck yesterday, and that you won all evening.

Someone asked him:

— When will you give us the chance for our revenge, Pedrito?

He answered:

— I fear it will not be possible very soon. I must go to Córdoba. It has come to light that the notary is robbing me. I know that all notaries are thieves. But I was dull enough to believe this one honest.

He seemed to be speaking freely, and Pepe Alvarez broke in, speaking with equal freedom:

— I think you exaggerate, Pedrito. Do not forget that my father is a notary, and that he, at least, is an honest man.

Don Pedro answered, laughing:

— I believe some part of that; and I am certain your father is a thief like the others.

The insult was unexpected and uncalled-for, and Pepe Alvarez stood dumbfounded for a few moments. Then he said:

— That is a slander, and you know it perfectly well. I ask you to withdraw your words at once...

Don Pedro burst out laughing:

— I will not withdraw a word of

what I said. Your father is a thief and one of the rabble.

And Pepe did the only fitting thing. He sprang to his feet at one bound and slapped Don Pedro's face... And the inevitable result followed. The next day the two men met on the Portuguese frontier. Pepe Alvarez, the notary's son, fell with a bullet in the heart, and died the death of men of honor!"

The Spaniard ended his story in the same natural, even tone with which he had begun it at the first moment, so that I almost failed to grasp its conclusion. But anger quickly took hold of me and I said:

— What barbarity! It is a hideous crime!

My host stood up, saying:

— You understand nothing, my friend. Don Pedro could have done nothing else on such an occasion...

•

I left Seville the next day, and I was never able to learn the name of the man who told me that strange story. And how often I have wondered whether the lady I saw — that pale-complexioned lady with the white lock of hair — was poor Soledad!