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Don Alderon did not care whether they tarried or hurried; he loved his journey through this leafy land; the cool night-breeze slipping round the tree-trunks was new to him, and new was the comradeship of the abundant stars; the quest itself was a joy to him; with his fancy he built Rodriguez' mysterious castle no less magnificently than did Don Alvidar.
"He is my enemy but dwells in awe of me, and so durst never molest me except by minor wonders." "How know you that he is a magician?" said Rodriguez. "By those wonders," answered his captive. "He afflicts small dogs and my poultry. And he wears a thin, high hat: his beard is also extraordinary." "Long?" said Morano. "Green," answered Don Alvidar.
"It seemed a rose tree," said Don Alvidar. "A captive lady chained to the wall perhaps, changed by magic," suggested Morano. "Perhaps," said Don Alvidar. "A strange house for a magician," said Rodriguez, for it sounded like any small farmhouse in Spain. "He much affects mortal ways," replied Don Alvidar.
And when she asked him of his castle again, whether on rock or river or in leafy lands, he began to describe how its ten towers stood, being builded of a rock that was slightly pink, and how they glowed across a hundred fields, especially at evening; and suddenly he ceased, perceiving all in a moment he was speaking unwittingly in the words of Don Alvidar and describing to Dona Mirana that rose-pink castle on Ebro.
"Is he very near the castle?" said Rodriguez and Morano together. "Too near," said Don Alvidar. "Is his house wonderful?" Rodriguez asked. "It is a common house," was the answer. "A mean, long house of one story. The walls are white and it is well thatched. The windows are painted green; there are two doors in it and by one of them grows a rose tree." "A rose tree?" exclaimed Rodriguez.
From some way off he saw that balcony that had drawn him back from the other side of the far Pyrenees. Sometimes he knew that it drew him and mostly he knew it not; yet always that curved balcony brought him nearer, ever since he turned from the field of the false Don Alvidar: the balcony held him with invisible threads, such as those with which Earth draws in the birds at evening.
And Rodriguez ended his tale and silence fell, broken only by Morano saying across the fire, "It is true," and the captive's thoughtful eyes gazed into the darkness. And then he also spoke. "Señor," he said, "near to my rose-pink castle which looks into the Ebro dwells a magician also." "Is it so?" said Rodriguez. "Indeed so, señor," said Don Alvidar.
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