persuaded him to go to
Jamaica officially, he had been rowed in state to the ship waiting
outside. For many years now it had been impossible to enlighten him as
to the true condition of affairs. He listened to people's talk as though
it had been children's prattle. I have related how he received Carlos'
denunciations. If one insisted, he would draw himself up in displeasure.
But in his decay he had preserved a great dignity, a grave firmness that
intimidated me a little.

I did not, of course, insist that evening, and, after giving me
my dismissal in a gesture of blessing, he resumed his engrossing
conversation with O'Brien. It related to the services commemorating his
wife's death, those services that, once every twelve months, draped in
black all the churches in Havana. A hundred masses, no less, had to
be said that day; a distribution of alms had to be made. O'Brien was
charged with all the arrangements, and I caught, as they crept past me
up and down the _patio_, snatches of phrases relating to this mournful
function, when all the capital was invited to pray for the soul of the
illustrious lady. The priest of the church of San Antonio had said this
and that; the grand vicar of the diocese had made difficulties about
something; however, by the archbishop's special grace, no less than
three altars would be draped in the cathedral.

I saw Don Balthasar smile with an ineffable satisfaction; he thanked
O'Brien for his zeal, and seemed to lean more familiarly on his arm. His
voice trembled with eagerness. "And now, my excellent Don Patricio, as
to the number of candles...."

I stood for a while as if rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by my
insignificance. O'Brien never once looked my way. Then, hanging my head,
I went slowly up the white staircase towards my room.

Cesar, going his rounds along the gallery, shuffled his silk-clad shanks
smartly between two young negroes balancing lanthorns suspended on
the shafts of their halberds. That little group had a mediaeval and
outlandish aspect. Cesar carried a bunch of keys in one hand, his staff
of office in the other. He stood aside, in his maroon velvet and gold
lace, holding the three-cornered hat under his arm, bowing his gray,
woolly head--the most venerable and deferential of majordomos. His
attendants, backing against the wall, grounded their halberds heavily at
my approach.

He stepped out to intercept me, and, with great discretion, "Senor, a
word," he said in his