We rose early. With that glorious sun shining, who could waste moments in sleep? Presently we heard a sort of alarmed shout from H. C., and on going into the sitting-room, and asking how he had slept, found him pale, agitated, and confronted by the Dragon.
She looked if anything more terrible than last night. Her cavernous mouth was wide open, but no sound came forth, though her capacious jaws moved up and down and her eyes rolled in a fine frenzy. Her sleeves were tucked up above the elbow, revealing a muscular arm that would not have disgraced a prize-fighter. She was evidently primed for another field day at the wash-tub. When we went in she was smiling sweetly upon H. C.
"What does it all mean?" we asked. "Surely you have not been offering to elope with the Dragon?"
"I simply want my boots," said H. C. unromantically. "I rang away at the bell just as we knocked at the door last night, and with the same result. The place must be bewitched. Then I opened the door and clapped my hands, and the Dragon suddenly sprang out upon me from a dark cupboard close by, right into my very arms. I nearly had a fit of convulsions. And now when I ask for my boots all she does is to mouth and shake her head. What's to be done? Is it a plot to keep us here? Have we fallen into the hands of the Philistines?"
Being in a more advanced stage of toilet than H. C., we marched forth in search of the landlord on what we hoped would not prove a bootless errand. He was in his counting-house counting out his money—and arranging his dinners. On making anxious inquiries we discovered that in Lerida boot-cleaning was considered one of the fine arts. There was a Boot-cleaner in Ordinary to the town, who took the inns in turn and was paid according to his work. People had to wait his pleasure. That morning he had not yet arrived; we had risen early.
Fortunately he appeared at the moment: an old, grey-bearded man with a fine presence, who looked almost past boot-cleaning or any other occupation. We found him quite above his humble employment. He was a Frenchman by birth, but had lived in Spain for nearly seventy years—was now verging on ninety, and his old wife, he told us, was eighty-seven, and two years ago had gone blind. He had not forgotten his native language, which he still spoke very purely. In his last days he was supporting himself and his old wife by cleaning boots. It was the custom of the town. The hotels would do anything for you but clean boots. As far as he was concerned he just managed to keep the wolf from the door, and that after all was all they wanted.
He went off to his task, and returning to H. C. we found a change had come over the spirit of his dream. He sat hilarious and comforted before an empty tray of rolls and coffee, our own share as well as his having disappeared, whilst the Dragon had departed to adorn other realms.
In due time the old man arrived with his boots, was duly paid for his work, and we presently found ourselves under the blue skies of Lerida.
CHAPTER XX.
THE STORY OF A LIFE.
Lerida by daylight—Second city in Catalonia—Past history—Days of the Goths—And Moors—Becomes a bishopric—Troublous times—Brave people—Striking cathedral—Splendid outlines—Desecration—The new cathedral—Senseless tyranny—One of the most interesting of towns—Crowded market-place—Picturesque arcades and ancient gateways—Wine-pressers—Good offer refused—Another revelation—Wonderful streets—Amongst the immortals—Our Boot-cleaner in Ordinary again—Thereby hangs a tale—His story—Blind wife—Modest request—Nerissa—Charming room—Little queen in the arm-chair—Faultless picture—Renouncements but no regrets—"All a new world"—Time to pass out of life—Back to the quiet streets—H. C. contemplative—Proposes emigration to Salt Lake City—Lerida glorified by its idyll.