The hotel was at hand. We four alone possessed the street and awoke the silent echoes. Always excepting the ubiquitous old watchmen, who seemed to spend half their time in gazing at the great doorway, flashing weird lights and shadows with their lanterns. These they now turned upon us, but recognising the ecclesiastical figure, quickly lowered their lights, turned the spears of their staffs to the ground, and gave a military salute.
"As a member of the Church Militant such a greeting is perhaps not out of place," he laughed. "No general on this earth ever fought more valiantly than I to gain battles--but the weapons are wide as the issues. They fight for an earthly, I for a heavenly kingdom."
He spoke a few words to the watchmen; bade them be strong and of good courage; and we fancied--we were not quite certain--that he glided a small token of good-will into their hands.
Then we crossed the road, entered the courtyard, and passed up the broad marble staircase.
It was the hour for ghosts and shadows and unearthly sounds. Again we thought of the rich and rare crowd that had passed up and down in sacques and swords in the centuries gone by; every one of whom had long been a ghost and shadow in its turn. Again we saw clearly as in a vision that last happy pair who had separated--he to find death on the battlefield, she to rejoin him in the Land o' the Leal. Distinctly we heard the rustle of the gown, the fervency of their last embrace, the sighs that came in quick succession. So easily imagination runs away with us.
We were awakened to realities by José, who, heavy-eyed and dreamy, was politely wishing us good-night, hardly wakeful enough to reach his room.
"I will follow his example," said H. C. "The air of Gerona conduces to slumber. I verily believe you never sleep. To-morrow I shall hear that the good father's confessions terminated with the breakfast hour. Ah! I shall miss the black coffee--but I have a flask of my own, though its contents have nothing to do with the centuries."
Then Delormais turned to us, his eyes full of kindly solicitude.
"Are you equal to a vigil? Is it not too bad, after your hard day's work--pleasure is often labour--to ask you to give an old man an hour or two from your well-earned slumbers? Do you not also find the air of Gerona conducive to sleep? I warn you that at the first sign of drooping eyelid I dismiss the assembly."