Up and up we mounted, Fernando and the Boy walking lightly in advance, we others lagging a little behind, until we felt like birds seeking some mountain aerie; till looking down we saw nothing but a steeply shelving forest of tree tops, or looking up caught a glimpse of mist-obscured crags.
The path wound about along narrow ledges and up crazy, almost obliterated steps, until with the suddenness of a surprise the track branched off to a ledge on the right, and we saw, set in the face of the solid rock, a little wicket gate.
It was so long since the gate had been opened that it necessitated a strong effort on the part of Fernando's broad shoulders before it would consent to open.
Within, the unexpected awaited us. Set in the wall of the cave facing the door was an old bas-relief carving that had evidently marked the place of the altar before which the saint had been wont to worship. The passing of the centuries has gradually blurred the outlines of the carving: still we could see the form of the Virgin and Child, and the worshipping figure of an angel. Behind the group was a background of palms.
The wall still held a faint trace of fresco, and from the side hung the socket—in the shape of a bird—for an antique lamp.
There was something so attractive, and even homely, in the cave, that we required no great effort of imagination to fancy Lull choosing it as his hermitage, and escaping thither when he yearned for a space to be free from the society of the thirteen monks who so soon had tired of their task.
That raised ledge might have served for a couch; this stone seemed the right height for a seat; a small window hewn in the side admitted sufficient light did the recluse wish to study. In the wall was a natural basin, which to this day, except when long-continued drought has dried up all the watercourses, holds a supply of fresh water.
It seemed to us that Lull had chosen an ideal place of seclusion in the rock-dwelling set far up in the pure air, where no sound save the twitter of bird or the far-off murmur of the sea could break the solemnity of his thoughts.
Everything about the cave bespoke its antiquity. The trees that fronted the entrance were hoary with age and fringed with lichen. And on the hill-side above, amidst moss-grown trees and blooming heath, a tall cross had been erected in memory of the recluse whose haven it once had been.