man mountains decked themselves out
like gods with colours they took from the sunset; then darkened, all
those peaks, in brooding conclave and disappeared in the night. And the
hushed night heard the tiny rap of Morano's hands on the door of the
house that had the glowing window.

THE NINTH CHRONICLE

HOW HE WON A CASTLE IN SPAIN

The woman that came to the door had on her face a look that pleased
Morano.

"Are you soldiers?" she said. And her scared look portended war.

"My master is a traveller looking for the wars," said Morano. "Are the
wars near?"

"Oh, no, not near," said the woman; "not near."

And something in the anxious way she said "not near" pleased Morano
also.

"We shall find those wars, master," he said.

And then they both questioned her. It seemed the wars were but twenty
miles away. "But they will move northward," she said. "Surely they will
move farther off?"

Before the next night was passed Rodriguez' dream might come true!

And then the man came to the door anxious at hearing strange voices;
and Morano questioned him too, but he understood never a word. He was a
French farmer that had married a Spanish girl, out of the wonderful
land beyond the mountains: but whether he understood her or not he
never understood Spanish. But both Rodriguez and the farmer's wife knew
the two languages, and he had no difficulty in asking for lodging for
the night; and she looked wistfully at him going to the wars, for in
those days wars were small and not every man went. The night went by
with dreams that were all on the verge of waking, which passed like
ghosts along the edge of night almost touched by the light of day. It
was Rodriguez whom these dreams visited. The farmer and his wife
wondered awhile and then slept; Morano slept with all his wonted
lethargy; but Rodriguez with his long quest now on the eve of
fulfilment slept a tumultuous sleep. Sometimes his dreams raced over
the Pyrenees, running south as far as Lowlight; and sometimes they
rushed forward and clung like bats to the towers of the great castle
that he should win in the war. And always he lay so near the edge of
sleep that he never distinguished quite between thought and dream.

Dawn came and he put by all the dreams but the one that guided him
always, and went and woke Morano. They ate hurriedly and left the
house, and again the farmer's wife looked curiously at Rodriguez, as
though there were something strange in a man that