tness. The
Cavaliers again broke off their discourse, but for this time they were
not contented with looking up: Both started involuntarily from their
seats, and turned themselves towards the Speaker.

The voice came from a female, the delicacy and elegance of whose figure
inspired the Youths with the most lively curiosity to view the face to
which it belonged. This satisfaction was denied them. Her features were
hidden by a thick veil; But struggling through the crowd had deranged
it sufficiently to discover a neck which for symmetry and beauty might
have vied with the Medicean Venus. It was of the most dazzling
whiteness, and received additional charms from being shaded by the
tresses of her long fair hair, which descended in ringlets to her
waist. Her figure was rather below than above the middle size: It was
light and airy as that of an Hamadryad. Her bosom was carefully veiled.
Her dress was white; it was fastened by a blue sash, and just permitted
to peep out from under it a little foot of the most delicate
proportions. A chaplet of large grains hung upon her arm, and her face
was covered with a veil of thick black gauze. Such was the female, to
whom the youngest of the Cavaliers now offered his seat, while the
other thought it necessary to pay the same attention to her companion.

The old Lady with many expressions of gratitude, but without much
difficulty, accepted the offer, and seated herself: The young one
followed her example, but made no other compliment than a simple and
graceful reverence. Don Lorenzo (such was the Cavalier’s name, whose
seat She had accepted) placed himself near her; But first He whispered
a few words in his Friend’s ear, who immediately took the hint, and
endeavoured to draw off the old Woman’s attention from her lovely
charge.

“You are doubtless lately arrived at Madrid,” said Lorenzo to his fair
Neighbour; “It is impossible that such charms should have long remained
unobserved; and had not this been your first public appearance, the
envy of the Women and adoration of the Men would have rendered you
already sufficiently remarkable.”

He paused, in expectation of an answer. As his speech did not
absolutely require one, the Lady did not open her lips: After a few
moments He resumed his discourse:

“Am I wrong in supposing you to be a Stranger to Madrid?”

The Lady hesitated; and at last, in so low a voice as to be scarcely
intelligible, She made shift to answer,—“No, Segnor.”

“Do you intend making a stay of any length?”

“Yes, Segnor.”

“I should esteem myself fortunate, were it in my power to contribute to
making your abode agreeable. I am well known at Madrid, and my Family
has some interest at Court. If I can be of any service, you cannot
honour or oblige me more than by permitting me to be of use to
you.”—“Surely,” said He to himself, “She cannot answer that by a
monosyllable; now She must say something to me.”

Lorenzo was deceived, for the Lady answered only by a bow.

By this time He had discovered that his Neighbour was not very
conversible; But whether her silence proceeded from pride, discretion,
timidity, or idiotism, He was still unable to decide.

After a pause of some minutes—“It is certainly from your being a
Stranger,” said He, “and as yet unacquainted with our customs, that you
continue to wear your veil. Permit me to remove it.”

At the same time He advanced his hand towards the Gauze: The Lady
raised hers to prevent him.

“I never unveil in public, Segnor.”

“And where is the harm, I pray you?” interrupted her Companion somewhat
sharply; “Do not you see that the other Ladies have all laid their
veils aside, to do honour no doubt to the holy place in which we are? I
have taken off mine already; and surely if I expose my features to
general observation, you have no cause to put yourself in such a
wonderful alarm! Blessed Maria! Here is a fuss and a bustle about a
chit’s face! Come, come, Child! Uncover it; I warrant you that nobody
will run away with it from you—”

“Dear aunt