"Have you decided on a spot where to stop?" said the painter to his companion.
"Yes," answered the latter, "I am going to the portals of the Plaza Mayor."
"But to which? All the square is furnished with portals."
"To those which front the cathedral. An apartment has been retained for me at the house No. 3."
"Good, I see that close-by."
The caravan was then threading an apparently inextricable labyrinth at streets, but in about a quarter of an hour it came out upon the Plaza Mayor.
"Here we are arrived," said the painter. "Permit me now to take leave of you."
"Not before you have consented to accept from me the hospitality I have received from you."
"Why not let me go?"
"Who knows; perhaps I may still want your assistance?"