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"We can hide," said Rodriguez, and he looked round over the plain, very full of flowers, but empty and bare under the blue sky of any place in which a man might hide to escape from pursuers on horse back. He perceived then that he had no plan. "Master," said Morano, "there is no hiding like disguises."
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.
But then in that scented garden among the dim lights of late evening the ghost of that rose introduced their spirits one to the other, so that the listening flowers heard Rodriguez telling the story of his heart, and, bending over the shell-bordered path, heard Serafina's answer; and all they seemed to do was but to watch the evening, with leaves uplifted in the hope of rain.
While these things were happening in Camboja and Cochinchina, orders had arrived from Espana from his Majesty to conclude an agreement that Captain Estevan Rodriguez de Figueroa had made with Gomez Perez Dasmarinas, under which the former was to pacify and settle the island of Mindanao at his own expense, and receive the governorship of the island for two lives and other rewards.
And then the Sun began to fill the whole sky in front of them. And in another minute, if minutes had any meaning, they were heading for a boundless region of flame that, left and right, was everywhere, and now towered above them, and went below them into a flaming abyss. And now Morano spoke to Rodriguez.
When Rodriguez heard these chance words his dreams came nearer till they almost touched the edges of reality. It was the last day of Perez' rowing. He rowed well although they neared the cradle of the Segre and he struggled against them in his youth. Grey peaks began to peer that had nursed that river. Grey faces of stone began to look over green hills. They were the Pyrenees.
They passed a pool where water-lilies lay in languid beauty for hundreds of summers, but as yet no flower peeped into the water, for the pond was all hallowed newly. A clump of trees stood right ahead of their way; they passed round it; and Castle Rodriguez came all at once into view. Serafina gasped joyously.
"Does he surrender his castle, master?" asked Morano. "Yes, indeed," said Rodriguez. They looked at each other: all at last was well. The battle was rolling away from them and was now well within the enemy's tents. History says of that day that the good men won.
"For whom do you seek, señor?" he said to Rodriguez, who had halted before him with his horse's nose inside the doorway sniffing. "I look," he said, "for him who is not Fernandez." "I am he," said the man by the fire. Rodriguez questioned no further but dismounted, and bade Morano lead the horses in.
When Rodriguez entered the wood he found his oak, but it was not such an oak as he cared to rest beneath during the heat of the day, nor would you have done so, my reader, even though you have been to the wars and seen many a pretty mess; for four of la Garda were by it and were arranging to hang a man from the best of the branches. "La Garda again," said Rodriguez nearly aloud.
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