The festival was celebrated upon a large vacant lot on Pasion street.
Leandro and Manuel entered as the band from the Orphan Asylum was
playing a _habanera_. The lot, aglare with arc-lights, was
bedecked with ribbons, gauze and artificial flowers that radiated from
a pole in the centre to the boundaries of the enclosure. Before the
entrance door there was a tiny wooden booth adorned with red and
yellow percale and a number of Spanish flags; this was the raffle
stand.
Leandro and Manuel took a seat in a corner and waited. The
proof-reader and his family did not arrive until after ten; Milagros
looked very pretty that night; she had on a light costume with blue
figuring, a kerchief of black crape and white slippers. She wore her
gown somewhat decollete, as far as the smooth, round beginnings of her
throat.
At this moment the band from the Orphan Asylum blared forth the
schottisch called _Los Cocineros_ (The Cooks). Leandro, stirred
by the strains, invited Milagros out for a dance, but the maiden made
a slight gesture of annoyance.
"You might soil my new costume," she murmured, and put her kerchief
around her waist.
"If you dance with another fellow he'll soil it, too," replied Leandro
in all humility.
Milagros did not heed his words; she danced with her skirt gathered in
one hand, answering him in peevish monosyllables.
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