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Sor Teresa, absorbed in prayer, never turned her head. The service went on uninterruptedly. Sarrion led the way and Mon followed. Juanita glanced at Marcos, indicated with a nod Evasio Mon's back, and made a gay little grimace, suggestive of that schemer's discomfiture. Then she followed Mon, and Marcos came noiselessly behind her.
He could see every one from this position, but he did not hear the Sarrions a few yards behind him. At this moment Juanita turned round and perceiving them gave a little start which Mon saw. He turned his head to the left; Sarrion was standing in the semi-darkness at his shoulder. Then he turned to the right and there was Marcos, motionless, with a handkerchief held to his lips.
"To to ?" began the notary once more, and then lapsed into a puzzled silence. He was at fault again. Mogente seemed to be failing. He lay quite still, looking straight in front of him. "The Count Ramon de Sarrion," he asked suddenly, "is he in Saragossa?" "No," answered the notary, after a glance into the darkened door. "No but your will your will. Try and remember what you are doing.
I will go and ask her," replied Sarrion, looking round him quite openly to make sure that there were no letters lying about on the tables of the terrace that Mon might be tempted to read in his absence. He hurried to Marcos' room. Marcos was out of bed. He was dressing, with the help of his servant and the visitor from the mountains.
"Yesterday it was an altar-vase. I tripped over the foot of that stupid St. Andrew. Have you heard from papa?" Sarrion hesitated for a moment at the sudden question. "No," he answered at length. "Oh! I wish he would come home from Cuba," said the girl, with a passing gravity. "I wonder what he will be like. Will his hair be gray? Not that I dislike gray hair you know," she added hurriedly.
She laughed in the face of force and refused absolutely." "And?" muttered Sarrion. "One may presume that subtler means were used," answered the nun. "You mean trickery," suggested Marcos.
Quite suddenly the polished sticks ceased playing loudly and dropped their tone to pianissimo, so that if Juanita were to speak she could be heard. "Hombre," she said, "do you know Marcos de Sarrion?" "I know the chapel of Our Lady of the Shadows," he answered, glancing at her through a mist of wool. "Will you give him a letter?"
Cousin Peligros made a condescending and yet decisive gesture, patting the empty air. "I have my charge. I shall fulfil it," she said determined, and not without a suggestion of coyness withal. Juanita was lying in wait for a glance from Sarrion and when she received it she made a little movement of the eyelids, telling him to take Cousin Peligros away.
"They had," said Sarrion, "so far as I recollect, a large and beautiful chapel in the patio opposite to that great door, which has probably been built up on the inside." Then he gave the peculiar knock on the door. At a gesture from Marcos he stood back so that he who opened the door would need to open it wide and almost come out into the street to see who had summoned him.
Cousin Peligros smiled in rather a pinched way, and with a gesture of her outspread hands morally wiped the besiegers out. No female Sarrion, she seemed to imply, need ever fear inconvenience from a person in uniform. "You and I, Señorita," said Mon, with his bland and easy sympathy of manner, "have no business here. We are persons of peace."
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