Now the box in the tribune I had watched so long was filled with strangers. Pilar had been right. Carmona had given his place to friends. But with that soft, haunting music in my ears, sweet as remembered days of joy, I could not fear anything. Somehow I was at peace, with good thoughts in my mind and hope in my heart.
Brotherhoods in black, brotherhoods in purple, and paso after paso went by; Christus bending under the weight of the cross, Christus praying among sleeping disciples in Gethsemane, Our Lady of the Rosary, Our Lady of Tears, flaming rivers of light, suns rising out of purple clouds.
Night folded over the great square, with its crowd of people. No one had gone away. Electric lights burst out and made the scene like the auditorium of some vast theatre; but the stage and auditorium were one. Then the full moon, yellow as honey, looked over the thronged roof-gardens of tall houses opposite the tribune, and sailed high in heaven.
It was past nine o'clock when Colonel O'Donnel touched me on the shoulder.
“We saw you long ago,” he said. “You are so tall. Shall we go home to dinner? But on Thursday you will have another chance.”
Thursday! and there were three days in between. I wished that he could have left me in my dream of peace as long as it might last.