"What are you doing in Oporto?"
"Looking for work," said Antonio. "I only arrived this morning. Perhaps I shall have better luck to-morrow. In Gaia the wine-merchants do not want hands."
"That's all stuff and nonsense!" snorted the man from Lisbon. "They want a man badly at the cellars of Castro and de Mattos."
Antonio explained that he had approached the Senhores Castro and de Mattos and had been turned out.
"Meet me outside their offices at nine to-morrow morning," said the stranger, "and they'll let you in."
III
Not only the next morning, but also on hundreds of mornings following, Castro's and de Mattos' doors opened to Antonio. Somewhat straitened financially, Senhor Castro, the only surviving partner, was coquetting with a rich English wine-merchant who wished to acquire a direct interest in an Oporto wine-lodge of repute. The negotiations demanded an exact stock-taking, and to this end Antonio was engaged for three months at a wage of four milreis a week.
The hours were long and the work was heavy. Two porters were at his disposal; but Antonio had often to put his own shoulder to the shifting of a cask. As for the brain-work it was harder than the manual. Following Portuguese custom the Castro wines had been reckoned by weight; and it was the young monk's duty to work out difficult sums in weights and measures, transmuting the awkward Portuguese almudes into equally awkward English tuns and hogsheads.
On the last day of July, more than four weeks before anybody expected the work to be finished, Antonio placed a neatly-written summary in his employer's hands. Senhor Castro was delighted. Not only was he able to resume his negotiations a month earlier than he had hoped, but his losses during the siege proved to be less than he had feared. Recalling the strenuous Antonio to his private room he renewed his engagement, and entrusted him with important duties far up the Douro, where the Castro vineyards lay.