" 'We were not born to plant cabbages,' she cried. 'Our fate is to live /payllos/! Listen: I've arranged a business with Nathan Ben-Joseph at Gibraltar. He has cotton stuffs that he can not get through till you come to fetch them. He knows you're alive, and reckons upon you. What would our Gibraltar correspondents say if you failed them?'
"I let myself by persuaded, and took up my vile trade once more.
"While I was hiding at Granada there were bull-fights there, to which Carmen went. When she came back she talked a great deal about a skilful /picador/ of the name of Lucas. She knew the name of his horse, and how much his embroidered jacket had cost him. I paid no attention to this; but a few days later, Juanito, the only one of my comrades who was left, told me he had seen Carmen with Lucas in a shop in the Zacatin. Then I began to feel alarmed. I asked Carmen how and why she had made the /picador's/ acquaintance.
" 'He's a man out of whom we may be able to get something,' said she.
'A noisy stream has either water in it or pebbles. He has earned twelve hundred reals at the bull-fights. It must be one of two things:
we must either have his money, or else, as he is a good rider and a plucky fellow, we can enroll him in our gang. We have lost such an one an such an one; you'll have to replace them. Take this man with you!'
" 'I want neither his money nor himself,' I replied, 'and I forbid you to speak to him.'
" 'Beware!' she retorted. 'If any one defies me to do a thing, it's very quickly done.'
"Luckily the /picador/ departed to Malaga, and I set about passing in the Jew's cotton stuffs. This expedition gave me a great deal to do, and Carmen as well. I forgot Lucas, and perhaps she forgot him too--for the moment, at all events. It was just about that time, sir, that I met you, first at Montilla, and then afterward at Cordova. I won't talk about that last interview. You know more about it, perhaps, than I do. Carmen stole your watch from you, she wanted to have your money besides, and especially that ring I see on your finger, and which she declared to be a magic ring, the possession of which was very important to her. We had a violent quarrel, and I struck her. She turned pale and began to cry. It was the first time I had ever seen her cry, and it affected me in the most painful manner. I begged her to forgive me, but she sulked with me for a whole day, and when Istarted back to Montilla she wouldn't kiss me. My heart was still very sore, when, three days later, she joined me with a smiling face and as merry as a lark. Everything was forgotten, and we were like a pair of honeymoon lovers. Just as we were parting she said, 'There's a /fete/at Cordova; I shall go and see it, and then I shall know what people will be coming away with money, and I can warn you.'
"I let her go. When I was alone I thought about the /fete/, and about the change in Carmen's temper. 'She must have avenged herself already,' said I to myself, 'since she was the first to make our quarrel up.' A peasant told me there was to be bull-fighting at Cordova. Then my blood began to boil, and I went off like a madman straight to the bull-ring. I had Lucas pointed out to me, and on the bench, just beside the barrier, I recognised Carmen. One glance at her was enough to turn my suspicion into certainty. When the first bull appeared Lucas began, as I had expected to play the agreeable; he snatched the cockade off the bull and presented it to Carmen, who put it in her hair at once.
/La divisa/. A knot of ribbon, the colour of which indicates the pasturage from which each bull comes. This knot of ribbon is fastened into the bull's hide with a sort of hook, and it is considered the very height of gallantry to snatch it off the living beast and present it to a woman.
"The bull avenged me. Lucas was knocked down, with his horse on his chest, and the bull on top of both of them. I looked for Carmen, she had disappeared from her place already. I couldn't get out of mine, and I was obliged to wait until the bull-fight was over. Then I went off to that house you already know, and waited there quietly all that evening and part of the night. Toward two o'clock in the morning Carmen came back, and was rather surprised to see me.
" 'Come with me,' said I.
" 'Very well,' said she, 'let's be off.'
"I went and got my horse, and took her up behind me, and we travelled all the rest of the night without saying a word to each other. When daylight came we stopped at a lonely inn, not far from a hermitage.
There I said to Carmen:
" 'Listen--I forget everything, I won't mention anything to you. But swear one thing to me--that you'll come with me to America, and live there quietly!'
" 'No,' said she, in a sulky voice, 'I won't go to America--I am very well here.'
" 'That's because you're near Lucas. But be very sure that even if he gets well now, he won't make old bones. And, indeed, why should Iquarrel with him? I'm tired of killing all your lovers; I'll kill you this time.'
"She looked at me steadily with her wild eyes, and then she said:
" 'I've always thought you would kill me. The very first time I saw you I had just met a priest at the door of my house. And to-night, as we were going out of Cordova, didn't you see anything? A hare ran across the road between your horse's feet. It is fate.'
" 'Carmencita,' I asked, 'don't you love me any more?'
"She gave me no answer, she was sitting cross-legged on a mat, making marks on the ground with her finger.
