It was already dusk when we stopped to change our three hardy mules at a wayside fonda: and the lights of Palma were sparkling through the December darkness when we drew up at the city gate for the consumero's inspection.
During our days of absence the gay little city seemed to have decided that winter had come. The soldiers had donned their heavy coats, and men were going about muffled in great cloaks: but leaves were still thick on the plane-trees in the Borne, and to us the air seemed still soft and pleasant.
A few minutes later we were entering the Casa Tranquila with that feeling of absolute contentment that return to one's own home alone can afford.
X
ANDRAITX
A happy fortune more than good guiding led us to Andraitx. The Boy, painting at the port of Palma had seen the diligence, stuffed within with country folks and top-heavy without with their bundles, start with a gay jingle of bells for that little-known town, and was seized with a desire to visit it.
Somewhat precipitately we engaged our seats in the following day's coach, and then proceeded to make inquiries about the place. Nobody, it seemed, had a good word to say of it, perhaps because no one went there. Baedeker scorned even to mention its name. There was only an inferior fonda, one informant said. There was no fonda at all, amended another.
The diligence left Palma at two o'clock, and the fee for the 30 kilometros—over 20 miles—was two pesetas. Taking only a light suit-case, we locked the doors of the Casa Tranquila that glorious December afternoon, and walking down, reached in good time the little back-street café whence the coach started.