Still the poor man lingered, standing before him with the air of one who had something to say which he did not exactly know how to bring out.
"You may tell your lord that I am going," said Juan, rising wearily, and with a look that certainly told of exhaustion.
"If it please your noble Excellency--" and the lay brother stopped and hesitated.
"Well?"
"Let his Excellency pardon me. Could his worship have the misfortune to be related, very distantly no doubt, to one of the heretics who--"
"Don Carlos Alvarez was my brother," said Juan proudly.
The poor lay brother drew nearer to him, and lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper. "Señor and your Excellency, he was here in prison for a long time. It was thought that my lord the prior had a kindness for him, and wished him better used than they use the criminals in the Santa Casa. It happened that the prisoner whose cell he shared died the day before his--removal. So that the cell was empty, and it fell to my lot to cleanse it. Whilst I was doing it I found this; I think it belonged to him."
He drew from beneath his serge gown a little book, and handed it to Juan, who seized it as a starving man might seize a piece of bread. Hastily taking out his purse, he flung it in exchange to the lay brother; and then, just as the matin bells began to ring, he buckled on his sword and went forth.
XLVIII.
San Isodro Once More.