nicles.

Not till then did Rodriguez admit, or even know, that he had not eaten
since his noonday meal. But now he admitted this to Don Alderon's
questions; and Don Alderon led him to another chamber and there regaled
him with all the hospitality for which that time was famous. And when
Rodriguez had eaten, Don Alderon sent for wine, and the butler brought
it in an olden flagon, dark wine of a precious vintage: and soon the
two young men were drinking together and talking of the wickedness of
the Moors. And while they talked the night grew late and chilly and
still, and the hour came when moths are fewer and young men think of
bed. Then Don Alderon showed his guest to an upper room, a long room
dim with red hangings, and carvings in walnut and oak, which the one
candle he carried barely lit but only set queer shadows scampering. And
here he left Rodriguez, who was soon in bed, with the great red
hangings round him. And awhile he wondered at the huge silence of the
house all round him, with never a murmur, never an echo, never a sigh;
for he missed the passing of winds, branches waving, the stirring of
small beasts, birds of prey calling, and the hundred sounds of the
night; but soon through the silence came sleep.

He did not need to dream, for here in the home of Serafina he had come
to his dreams' end.

Another day shone on another scene; for the sunlight that went in a
narrow stream of gold and silver between the huge red curtains had sent
away the shadows that had stalked overnight through the room, and had
scattered the eeriness that had lurked on the far side of furniture,
and all the dimness was gone that the long red room had harboured. And
for a while Rodriguez did not know where he was; and for a while, when
he remembered, he could not believe it true. He dressed with care,
almost with fear, and preened his small moustachios, which at last had
grown again just when he would have despaired. Then he descended, and
found that he had slept late, though the three of that ancient house
were seated yet at the table, and Serafina all dressed in white seemed
to Rodriguez to be shining in rivalry with the morning. Ah dreams and
fancies of youth!

THE ELEVENTH CHRONICLE

HOW HE TURNED TO GARDENING AND HIS SWORD RESTED

These were the days that Rodriguez always remembered; and, side by side
with them, there lodged in his memory, and went down with them into his
latter years, the days and nights when he went