It was a perfect night, a witching scene. Everywhere intense quiet reigned, absolute stillness and repose. The world might have been a sleeping paradise, knowing nothing of human suffering. But we had learned that day by sad experience that the time for sorrow and sighing to flee away lay still in the far-off future.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE CANON'S HOSPITALITY.
El Pilar by day—In the old cathedral—The canon reproachful—Equal to the occasion—No pressure needed—Un diner maigre—Dream of forty years—True to time—Juanita—Fruits of long service—Exploring Juanita's domains—House of magic—"Surely not a fast-day"—Artistic dreams—Who can legislate after death?—Canon's abstinence—Juanita withdraws—Our opportunity—Canon earnest and sympathetic—Eugenie de Colmar—Canon's surprise—An old friend—Truth stranger than fiction—"You will forget the old priest"—Ingratitude not one of our sins—A rivederci—Canon's letter—End of Eugenie's story—En route for Tarragona—Landlord turns up at Lerida—Missing keys—Skeletons floated out to Panama—Domestic drama—Dragon again to the front—Tarragona—Matchless coast scene—Civilised inn—Military element—Haunted house—Mystery unsolved—Distinct elements—Roman and other remains—Dream of the past—Green pastures and sunny vineyards.
IT was the next day. We had again been standing on the farther bank of the river watching the flowing waters. They were dark and deep, a mighty stream that swept through the seven arches of the wonderful bridge reflecting its outlines. We had contemplated for the twentieth time the marvellous effect of the domes and towers of El Pilar rising like an eastern vision against the clear sky, had asked ourselves over and over again where we should find a fairer and a more striking view, and found the question difficult to answer. We had strolled over that same bridge back into the town, where the charm of outline and ancient atmosphere so strangely disappeared; had passed the fine old Exchange, crossed the square with its plashing fountain and ever-changing group of chattering women filling their artistic pitchers.
Finally we had found ourselves within the cathedral, also, for the twentieth time, lost in this architectural splendour; this wonder of a bygone age, where all the fret of every-day life had no room for existence.
As we looked, we noticed a portly figure hurriedly crossing the aisles in our direction. At the first moment he did not see us. An expression of intense amiability and benevolence "was upon the large round face, that would otherwise have been so ugly, and by its aid was made so beautiful. He raised his eyes and came down upon us as an eagle to its prey.
"You are here!" he cried. "I have been wondering all the morning why I did not come across you, in what ancient nook you had buried yourselves. I was now on my way to your hotel to ask whether you had departed to other fields, and to find out why you did not come to me last night. To-night I shall make sure of you. You shall dine with me—I will take no refusal. For once the old priest's frugal fare must suffice you. It shall be a fast-day. Abstinence from flesh-meat occasionally is good, even for travellers. Tell me you will come. Do not pain me by refusing, or make me guilty of pressing you too much. Juanita, my old housekeeper, tells me she is quite equal to preparing you un diner maigre."
Pressure was not needed; we were too glad to accept the good priest's invitation. He was given to hospitality in the best sense of the word, and we readily promised to dine with him. For us, the diner maigre had no terrors.
"That is good," he replied, in his rich round voice. "I shall expect you at seven o'clock, though we shall not dine until eight. So you are still lost in amazement at this architectural dream. The oftener you see it, the more beautiful it becomes. With few interruptions I have looked upon it daily for forty years, and every morning its charm seems new and strange to me. Well, since I have seen you I shall not go to your hotel. I have sundry visits to pay to poor sick folk. Until the infirmities of old age become too strong for me I will not give them up. And before that happens I trust a merciful Creator will remove me to scenes where there is neither age nor infirmity nor sick poor in need of consolation."
He hurried away, leaving us to the marvellous interior. We were glad to go to the old canon's, and felt it would be our opportunity for laying before him that interesting but unhappy case.