ntertained Gabriel with the account of all the attempts at robbery
which had happened during the century. In the Cathedral was enough
wealth to tempt a saint, Madrid was near, and he much feared the
"swell" thieves. But thieves would have to be clever and fortunate
to get the better of them. Silver Stick, the bell-ringer, and the
sacristan made their nightly inspection before locking up, Mariano
then taking the keys away with him to the belfry. No one could
think of breaking the locks and bolts, for they were of antique and
extremely strong work; besides, they two were there inside to give the
alarm on hearing the slightest noise. Formerly, by the help of the
dog, the watching had been more complete, for the animal was so alert
that no passer-by could approach the doors for an instant without his
barking. After its death the Senor Obrero spoke month after month of
getting another, but he had never fulfilled his promise. But all the
same, without the dog, they two were there and that meant something,
eh! He with his old pistol which had never been fired, and Gabriel
with his carbine, which was still standing in the corner where his
predecessor had left it. He plumed himself upon the fear he and his
companion would excite, but, called back to reality by Luna's smile,
he added:

"At any rate, in case of emergency we can reckon on the bell that
summons the canons; the rope hangs down in the choir, and we have
only to ring it. And just imagine what would happen if it rang in
the silence of the night! All Toledo would be on foot, knowing that
something serious was taking place in the Cathedral. With this and
those cursed markers that will not let one sleep, one might say that
even the king was not so well guarded at night as this church."

In the morning when the watch was ended, Gabriel would return to his
house, perished with cold, longing to stretch himself in bed. He would
find Sagrario in the kitchen, warming the milk he was to drink before
turning in. His gentle companion still called him "uncle" in the
presence of the household, and only used the loving "thou" when they
were alone. When he was in bed she would bring the steaming milk,
making him drink it with maternal caresses, smoothing the pillows;
after which she would carefully close the windows and doors so that no
ray of light should disturb him.

"Those nights in the Cathedral!" said she complainingly. "You are
killing yourself, Gabriel. It is not fit for you