"Juanita," said the goldsmith's daughter, "I believe I have secured an
admirer."

"An admirer!" exclaimed the pretty cousin. "If your father and dame
Margarita didn't keep us cooped here like a pair of pigeons, we should
have, at least, twenty apiece. But what manner of man is this
phoenix of yours? Is he tall? Has he black eyes, or blue? Is he
courtier or soldier?"

"He is tall," replied Magdalena, smiling; "but for his favor, or the
color of his eyes, or quality, I cannot answer. His face and figure
shrouded in a cloak, his _sombrero_ pulled down over his eyes, he
takes up his station against a pillar of the church whenever I go to
San Ildefonso with my duenna, and watches me till mass is ended. I
have caught him following our footsteps. But be he gentle or simple,
fair or dark, I know not."

"A very mysterious character!" cried Juanita, laughing, "like unto the
bravo of some Italian tale. Jesu Maria!" she exclaimed, springing to
the window, "what goodly cavalier rides hither? His mantle is of
three-pile velvet, and he wears golden spurs upon his heels. And with
what a grace he sits and manages his fiery genet! Pray Heaven your
suitor be as goodly a cavalier."

Magdalena gazed forth upon the horseman, and her heart silently
confessed that the praises of her cousin were well bestowed. As the
cavalier approached the goldsmith's house, he checked the impatient
speed of his horse, and gazed upward earnestly at the window where the
young girls sat.