and the faint and terrible odor of a long besieged place.

I came at eve into Santa Fe, found at last an inn of the
poorer sort, ate scant supper and went to bed. Dawn came
with a great ringing of church bells.

Out of the inn, in the throbbing street, I began my search
for Don Enrique de Cerda. One told me one thing and one
another, but at last I got true direction. At noon I found
him in a goodly room where he made recovery from wounds.
Now he walked and now he sat, his arm in a sling and a
bandage like a turban around his head. A page took him
the word I gave. "Juan Lepe. From the hermitage in the
oak wood." It sufficed. When I entered he gazed, then
coming to me, put his unbound hand over mine. "Why,"
he asked, " `Juan Lepe'?"

I glanced toward the page and he dismissed him, whereupon
I explained the circumstances.

We sat by the window, and again rose for us the hermitage
in the oak wood at foot of a mountain, and the small
tower that slew in ugly fashion. Again we were young
men, together in strange dangers, learning there each other's
mettle. He had not at all forgotten.

He offered to go to Seville, as soon as Granada should
fall, and find and fight Don Pedro. I shook my head. I
could have done that had I seen it as the way.