we might at least chat, drink a cup of
tea, and pay our homage to Mantovani's 'Zorzi.' Nothing could have been
more charming or more tantalising. As I toiled up towards the Del Puente
barbican I could feel the precious afternoon light dwindling. Breathless
I set the castle bell a-jangling with something like despair.

"Heavy doors opened in front of me as I passed the sallyport and the
grassgrown courtyard. At the entrance a majordomo in shabby but fairly
regal livery greeted me and conducted me through empty corridors and up
a massive staircase. The castle was indeed dismantled--apparently had
been in that condition from all time. As my superb guide halted before a
door which, exceptionally, was curtained, and knocked, my heart failed
me. I dreaded meeting this strange noblewoman, almost regretted the
nearness of the 'Zorzi,' knowing the actual colours could hardly surpass
those of my fancy. The little speeches I had been rehearsing resolved
themselves into silence again as I saw her by a tiny fire; a compelling
apparition, erect, with snowy hair waving high over burning black eyes.
To-day when I coldly analyse her fascination I recall nothing but these
simple elements. She permitted not a moment of the shyness that has
always plagued me. What our words were I do not now know, but I know
that I kissed the two hands she held out to me as she called me
Mantovani's son and her friend. Then I talked as never before or since,
told her of my struggles and ambitions, and from time to time I was mute
so that I might hear the deep contralto of the French she spoke
perfectly but with Spanish resonance. There was probably tea. Anyhow the
light went away from the deep casements unnoticed, and it was she who,
with a chiding finger, recalled me to duty and the Giorgione. 'Wretch,'
said she, 'you are here to see it not me. The light is going and your
devoirs yet unpaid.'

"As she took my arm and led me through the gallery, I had an odd
presentiment of going towards a doom. While I followed her up a winding
stair, the misgiving increased. Did venerable lemurs inhabit the Basque
mountains? Could so magnificent; an old age be of this earth? An
ancestral shudder from the Steppes came over me. It was her ruddy train
rustling round the turns ahead that aroused these atavistic
superstitions. But when we stood together on the landing all doubts fell
away; a broad ray of sunlight that struck through an open doorway showed
her spectral beaut