opening in the dark, vaulted ceiling over the worktable, dangled a long knotted cord.
“That is the rope of the campana de la Vela!” said Encarnacion.
“Is it true that it is you who ring the bell of the Vela?”
“Yes, once every half hour, from eight o’clock in the evening till four in the morning, we ring the bell in the watch-tower.”
“You sit up all night to do it? Isn’t it dreadfully cold?”
“Yes, it is often very cold. In winter we have a fire.” Encarnacion drew aside the chintz curtains that hid the lower part of the table, and showed a copper brazier covered with a wire netting that stood underneath.
“We kindle the charcoal, put our feet close to the brazier on this wooden shelf, and wrap ourselves up in heavy shawls and hoods. We manage very well, we are so used to it.”
“What do you do with yourselves through the long winter nights? How do you pass the time?”
“There is always plenty of work; we take in sewing. Sometimes one of us reads aloud to the other.”