I took my leave and went to the square. The nobleman's house was large, and old, built of solid stone. Its windows and balconies were ornamented in the Renaissance style and its door of Plateresque sculpture had the coat of arms of a noble family. Above this an heraldic helmet, magnificent with plumes and waving ornaments, filled the space beneath the balcony, its visor open like a toothless mouth. Dark-green lichen covered the rough worn carving. On the topmost story the house had a gallery of arches blocked with planks, bricks and straw. One of the balconies of the first story was covered with pots and broken jars filled with earth, in which grew red and pale geraniums that fell like a splotch of blood over the grey front of the house.
I was considering that deserted square when I heard the bells ring out from the towers, and presently a dozen persons appeared in the porch of the church. Among them came a tall stout old man accompanied by a graceful woman dressed in black. Her hair was grey. The man, of herculean build, walked uncertainly, with drooping head. They passed close to me, and I heard the man ask: "It is a fine day?"—"Yes, beautiful."
The question surprised me and I looked with curiosity at the elderly man and as he raised his head saw that his face was pitted with the smallpox and that he was stone-blind.
The woman looked at me attentively. She was extraordinarily attractive. I saw them cross the square and walk and down a moment in the sun. Not wishing to seem to
