She knew, but cared not to know, just when the two old men would
begin their talk. She knew who owned every dog that stretched
itself in the dust until chilly winds blew in the dusk and they
rose up dissatisfied. She knew the affairs of that street like an
old, old lesson taught drearily, and her thoughts went far away to
vales of an imagination where they met with many another maiden
fancy, and they all danced there together through the long
twilight in Spring. And then her mother would come and warn her
that the evening grew cold, and Serafina would turn from the
mystery of evening into the house and the candle-light. This was
so evening after evening all through spring and summer for two
long years of her youth. And then, this evening, just as the two
old neighbours began to discuss whether or not the subjugation of
the entire world by Spain would be for its benefit, just as one of
the dogs in the road was rising slowly to shake itself, neighbours
and dogs all raised their heads to look, and there was Rodriguez
riding down the street and Morano coming behind him. When Serafina
saw this she brought her eyes back from dreams, for she dreamed
not so deeply but that the cloak and plume of Rodriguez found some
place upon the boundaries of her day-dream. When she saw the way
he sat his horse and how he carried his head she let her eyes
flash for a little moment along the street from her balcony.
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