The Velvet Glove

ain world--runs through the city of Saragossa. It is a river, moreover, which shou

e summer, of frogs in winter-time. The lower bank is bordered by poplar trees, and here and there plots of land have been rec

ich marks the landing-place of the only ferry across the Ebro that Saragossa possesses. The ferry-boat was moored to the landing-stage. It is a high-prowed, high-sterned vessel, built on Viking li

re. Then he examined the chain that moored it. There was no padlock. In Spain to this day they bar the window h

gainst the sky. His attitude and his sigh seemed to denote along journey accomplished at last, an object attained perhaps or within reach, which is almost the sa

k this wind, without which no cart could cross the river at certain times of the year. It came roaring down the Ebro, bending the tall poplars on the lower bank, driving before it a cloud of dust on the Saragossa side. It lashed the waters of the river to a gleaming white beneath the moon. And a

ion of the eyes was not the usual expression of an old man's eyes. They had the agricultural calm, which is rarely seen in drawing-rooms. For those who deal with nature rarely feel calm in a drawing-room. They want to get out of it, and their eyes assume a hunted look. This seemed to be a m

, with, however, a strong American accent. "I have wa

atched cathedral, the domes of its second cathedral, and its many towers outlined against the sky j

to loosen the chains noiselessly. The wind was roaring so loudly that a listener twenty yards away could have heard nothing. He cast off and then hastened to the stern of the boat. The way in which he hand

en watching on the bridge half a mile farther down the river hurried into the town. A second watcher at an open window i

watchman, with lantern and spear, peeps cautiously to and fro--a startlingly mediaeval figure. It seemed also

by sentries, and by the new police, while at night the streets are given over to the care of a handful of night watchme

beneath the high wall of the Quay, and made his way through the underground passa

ooked about him. Nothing had changed since he had last stood there. Nothing had changed just here for five hundred

at the barred windows, heavily shadowed. There was an old world stillness in the air, and suddenly the bells of fifty churches tolled the hour. It was one o'clock in the morning. The traveler had traveled backwards, it would seem, into the middle ages. As he heard the church bells he gave an angry upward jerk of the

the river bank. In these narrow streets he met no one. On the Paseo there are several old inns, notably the Posada de los Reyes, used by muleteers and other gentlemen of the road, who arise and start at any hour of the twenty

and infinitely grander Cathedral of the Seo. Beyond this, by the riverside, is the palace of the archbishop. Farther on is another palace, standing likewise

's dwelling, and was already looking towards the house of the Sarrions, when a slight sound made him turn on his hee

on broke out from behind a cloud and showed a gleam of steel. Don Francisco de Mogente was down on the ground in an instant, and the th

the shadow, his dusty feet showing whitely in the moonlig

edly, and would seem to be returning from some mission of mercy, or some pious bedside to one of the many houses of religion located within a stone's throw of

d in an even and quie

nicism which even the near sight of deat

badly hur

t try to lift me, thoug

or help," sa

nded man curtly. But the fria

accompanied by two men, who had the air of indoor servants a

mission of mercy. He stood with humbly-folded hands and a meek face while the two men lifted Don Francisco de

ties, certain old men are employed by the municipal authorities to sweep the dust of the streets into little heaps. These heaps remain at the side of the streets until the dogs and the children and the

se by. He plunged his large brown hands into it, and with a few quick movement

e Calle San Gregorio, was, of course, deserted; the tall houses on either side were closely shuttered. Many of the balconies bore a branch of palm acro

r--a vast building, of which the windows increased in size as they mounted skywards. There were wrought-iron balconies, of which the window embras

-a man who had witnessed the whole incident from beginning to end. Who had, indeed, seen more than the friar or the two quiet men-servants. For he had seen a stick--probably a sword-stick, such as nearly every Spanish gentleman carries in his own country--fly from the