will,â he said. âTheyâre a law-abiding people on the whole. But you donât want to overdo it. Iâm not thinking of danger, but it just doesnât look well.â
âOh, pooh,â said Francie.
Maria and Ruy had taken Francie to her first bullfight, to watch a celebrated matador making his first appearance of the season. It was seven oâclock on Sunday evening when they brought her back to Estoril, and they came in for a farewell cup of coffee. Aunt Lolly was waiting. The hotel lounge was brilliant, crowded with holiday-makers. Motorists or residents, they were gaily dressed and having fun in their decorous way. There was never anything Sundaylike, as Francie knew it, on that day of the week in Portugal.
âWhat was it like?â asked Mrs. Barclay, after they had ordered their coffee and cakes.
Francie said, âWell ⦠I feel all mixed up.â
âShe really is mixed up,â Maria assured Mrs. Barclay. âShe was torn two ways, all through the show.â
âI was afraid she might faint,â said Ruy gravely. âEnglish ladies do now and then. I cannot understand why they come to see it in the first place.â
Francie said, âI wasnât near fainting, truly. It didnât seem that bad. The pageantry was marvelous! I kept wishing Penny could be with us because she loves the theater in great gobs, and that is what a bullfight is. Butâwell, I donât know if Iâd ever want to go again.â
âIf you were to go only once again,â said Ruy, âyou would become addicted.â
âThen I wonât,â said Francie definitely. âStill, I had to see it once, to discover what all the talk is about. The thing is, you simply mustnât begin to think about the bull. I know I should simply hate a Spanish fight. Theyâre much more cruel, with all the horses, and really killing the bull.â
âSo, now you have done your duty,â said Ruy. âYou have not come to Portugal in vain.â
Francie looked at him suspiciously. She didnât know how serious he might be. âI think on the whole Iâll go back to ballet,â she said. âI can enjoy that with a clear conscience.â
âOh, how lucky you are! I would give anything,â said Maria, âfor a whole season of ballet in New York. Some day I can do it again, perhaps.â
Mrs. Barclay said, âLetâs hope you can visit Francie in New York soon, and have your fill of theater.â
âIt is my dream,â said Maria.
Francie had been biding her time all afternoon, waiting to make a request of Ruy. Now the time seemed to have come. âSpeaking of dreams, arenât you ever going to introduce me to Fontoura, or are you going to keep putting me off?â she demanded. She said in explanation to Aunt Lolly, âThatâs Ruyâs friend with the art classes, you know. Ruy seems to think Iâll snub him, or do something else perfectly terrible. Heâs afraid to take me to the school. Arenât you, Ruy?â
Ruy said carefully, âI donât think youâll snub him. It is rather the other way round. Fontoura is a serious man, who wishes his pupils to be serious as well.â
âYou mean Iâm not serious!â
âI did not say that,â said Ruy. âOnly, forgive me, it doesnât sound like the sort of pupil Fontoura is interested inâa rich American girl on a visit to Estoril.â At sight of Francieâs hurt face he added hurriedly, âThat is because he doesnât know you. I will explain to him.â He looked into her eyes and repeated emphatically, âI will explain to him, Francesca. I know you are serious.â
âThere!â Mariaâs voice dispersed Francieâs embarrassment. âIt is settled, if Ruy says he will do that. Fontoura will take his word for it.â
The solemnity of the discussion rather depressed Francie. Of
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