We stood looking at the cathedral, all its wonderful outlines showing up clearly in the pale pure moonlight. Silence and solitude now reigned within and without. Then we turned away, and Quasimodo accompanied us as far as the bottom of the steps. There he bade us farewell and we never met him again.
The incident passed almost as a dream. We sometimes ask ourselves whether Quasimodo was really flesh and blood, or an angel that for a short time had visited the earth in the form of man. But he was no spirit. We watched his quaint shape as he went down the narrow street, flashing his light. Towards the end he looked back and turned the lamp full upon us, as though by way of final benediction. Another turn and he had passed out of sight.
The street had not the glimmer of a light or the ghost of a sound. Our own broad thoroughfare was in darkness. The Roman tower seemed wrapped in the silence and mystery of the centuries. From the end of the road we looked over the cliff at the sea sleeping in all its expanse, bathed in moonlight. In the harbour one caught the outlines of the vessels, and from one of them came the bark of a dog baying at the moon. It was one of those perfect nights, still, clear and calm, only to be found in these latitudes.
The cathedral clock had long struck two, when we finally turned towards the hotel. What if the night-porter failed us, as he had failed in Lerida? But he was more cunning. He was not there, indeed, but he had left the door ajar, and the gas slightly turned on at the foot of the staircase.
We made all fast and sought our rooms. With open windows, even from here we could hear the faint plash and beating of the ripples upon the shore—the slight ebb-and-flow movement of this tideless sea. Our dreams that night were haunted by Quasimodo. We had left the world for realms where no limit was, and divine harmonies for ever filled the air. Some hours later this harmony suddenly resolved itself into a bugle call, and we woke to a new day.
CHAPTER XXVI.
IN THE DAYS OF THE ROMANS.
Charms of Tarragona—Roman traces—Cyclopean remains—Augustus closes Temple of Janus—Great past—House of Pontius Pilate—Views from ramparts—Feluccas with white sails set—Life a paradise—City walls—Cathedral outlines—Lively market-place—Remarkable exterior—Dream-world—West doorways—Internal effect—In the cloisters—Proud sacristan—Man of taste and learning—Delighted with our enthusiasm—Great concession—Appealing to the soul—Señor Ancora—Human or angelic?—In the cloister garden—Sacristan's domestic troubles—Silent ecclesiastic—Sad history—Church of San Pablo—Challenge invited—Future genius—Rare picture—Roman aqueduct—A modern Cæsar—Reminiscences—Rich country—Where the best wines are made—Aqueduct—El puente del diablo—Giddy heights—Lonely valley—H. C. sentimental—Rosalie and fair Costello—Romantic situation—Quarrelsome Reus—Masters of the world—Our driver turns umpire—Battle averted—Men of Reus—Whatever is, is wrong—Driver's philosophy—Dream of the centuries.
ONLY the broad daylight could discover all the charms of Tarragona: the beauty of its situation, the extent of its ancient remains. The very perfect walls, fine in tone, bore distinct Roman traces. Below them, on a level with the shore, were other traces of a Roman amphitheatre. There were also Cyclopean remains, dating from prehistoric times. Tarragona was a great Roman station when the brothers Publius and Cneidos Scipio occupied it. Augustus raised it to the dignity of a capital: and twenty-six years B.C., after his Cantabrian campaign, he here issued his decree closing the Temple of Janus—open until then for seven hundred years.
Tarragona was already a large and flourishing city with over a million of inhabitants. It was rich and highly favoured, and its chief people considered themselves lords of the world. Many temples were erected, one of them to the honour of Augustus, making him a god whilst still living. There are fragments in the cloister museum said to have belonged to this temple, which was repaired by Adrian.
On our upward way near the Roman tower we passed the still wonderful house of Pontius Pilate, who was claimed by the Tarragonese as a fellow-townsman. It is said to have been also the palace of Augustus, and the lower portion bears traces of an existence before the Romans. To-day it is a prison, and as some of its walls are twenty feet thick the prisoners have small chances of escape. Few spots in Spain are more interesting, or so completely carry you back to the early centuries. On its south wall is an entrance to a short passage leading to the Cyclopean doorway, communicating by a subterranean passage with the comparatively modern Puerta del Rosario. To the east of this gateway we soon reach the ramparts, just above a ruined fort, and near the modern battery of San Fernando. From these ramparts you have the finest view of Tarragona and its surroundings.