nd garlands of
flowers in the barbarous manner of Italian art fifty years ago. There
was a low marble mantelpiece, and on it stood six brass candlesticks at
precisely even distances, one from another, the six candles being all
lighted. But there was a lamp on the table. Veronica smiled.

"You must forgive me if I have not known what to do," said Don Teodoro,
humbly, but smiling also. "I have seen something of civilization in my
wanderings, but I never attempted to arrange a house before. This is a
very large house, if one calls such a place a house at all."

"I suppose there are thirty or forty rooms?"

"There are three hundred and sixty-five altogether," answered the
priest, his smile broadening. "They are all named in the inventory.
There is a legend about the place to the effect that there is a three
hundred and sixty-sixth, which no one can find. Of course the inventory
includes every roofed space between walls, from the dungeon at the top
of the keep to the dark room under the trap-door in the last hall on
this lower story. But you will be surprised, to-morrow, if you go over
the place. It is much bigger than seems possible, because you can never
really see it from outside unless you go down into the plain."

"And where do you think that other room is?" asked Veronica, who was
young enough to take interest in the mystery.

"Heaven knows! Perhaps it does not exist at all. But as I was saying, my
dear princess, I found it hard to arrange an apartment for you, not
knowing how you might choose to select your quarters. So I had the
tapestries cleaned and hung up, and the chairs dusted and the tables
polished, and some lights got ready on this floor, and your bedroom is
the last."

"The one with the trap-door?" asked Veronica. "That is very amusing!"

"I had the dark room below well cleaned, and the trap has been screwed
down," said Don Teodoro. "I thought that there might be rats there.
Elettra has the room before yours. But you are tired, and you must be
hungry. It is my fault for not leaving you at once."

"But you will dine with me? To-night and every night, Don Teodoro--that
is understood."

Half an hour later, they sat down to table in the light of the lamp and
the six candles, in the room from which Veronica had looked out upon the
valley. But they were both too tired to talk, though they made faint
attempts at conversation, and as soon as the meal was over, the old
priest begged leave to go home.

"Do