"Now, not another word on this subject, and give your music lesson," said the abbess, opening an instruction book, and handing it to the young man.
The painter seated himself at a table between the two ladies, and began to explain to them as well as he could the mysteries of black, of white, of crotchets, and of minims.
When, some minutes afterwards, the portress entered, her serpent-like look gliding from under her half closed eyelids, perceived three persons apparently very seriously occupied in estimating the value of notes, and the difference between the key of F and the key of G.
"My holy mother," hypocritically said the portress, "a horseman, saying that he is sent by the governor of the town, asks the favour of an interview with you."
"Very good, my sister. When you have reconducted this gentleman, you will introduce this caballero to me. Beg him to wait a few minutes."
The painter rose, bowed respectfully to the ladies, and followed the portress. The door of the room closed behind him.
Without uttering a word, the portress guided him through the corridors that he had already traversed, as far as the gate of the convent, before which several horsemen, enveloped in long mantles, had stopped, to the general astonishment of the neighbours, who could scarcely believe their eyes, and who had come out to their doors, the better to see them.
The painter, thanks to his looking like an old man, his little dry cough, and his trembling walk, passed in the midst of them without attracting their attention, and went away in the direction of the river.
The portress made a sign to one of the horsemen, that she was ready to conduct him to the superior.
Just at that moment, the painter, who had gone some little distance, turned to give a last look at the convent.