"No, my friend. Thank you very much. I cherish a hope of getting through the lines to-night to Pampeluna. I came indeed to offer my poor services as escort to these ladies who will surely be safer at Pampeluna."
"Then you think that they will besiege Torre Garda," asked Sarrion, innocently. "One never knows, my friend--one never knows. It seems to me that the firing is nearer this afternoon."
Sarrion laughed.
"You are always hearing guns."
Mon turned and looked at him and there was a suggestion of melancholy in his smile.
"Ah! Ramon," he said. "You and I have heard them all our lives."
And there was perhaps a second meaning in his words, known only to Sarrion, whose face softened for an instant.
"Let us have some coffee," he said, turning to Cousin Peligros. "Will you see to it, Peligros--in the library?"
So Peligros walked across the broad terrace with the mincing steps taught in the thirties, leaving Mon hatless with a bowed head according to the etiquette of those leisurely days. He was all things, to all men.
"By the way ..." said Sarrion, and followed her without completing his sentence.