Upon his first day's journey all was
new; the very anemones kept him company; but now he made the
discovery that lonely roads are long.
When he had suggested food or rest Morano had fallen in with his
wishes; when he had suggested winning a castle in vague wars
Morano had agreed with him. Now he had dismissed Morano and had
driven him away at the rapier's point. There was no one now either
to cook his food or to believe in the schemes his ambition made.
There was no one now to speak of the wars as the natural end of
the journey. Alone in the rain the wars seemed far away and
castles hard to come by. The unromantic rain in which no dreams
thrive fell on and on.
The village of Lowlight was some way behind him, as he went with
mournful thoughts through the drizzling rain, when he caught the
smell of bacon. He looked for a house but the plain was bare
except for small bushes. He looked up wind, which was blowing from
the west, whence came the unmistakable smell of bacon: and there
was a small fire smoking greyly against a bush; and the fat figure
crouching beside it, although the face was averted, was clearly
none but Morano. And when Rodriguez saw that he was tenderly
holding the infamous frying-pan, the very weapon that had done the
accursed deed, then he almost felt righteous anger; but that
frying-pan held other memories too, and Rodriguez felt less fury
than what he thought he felt. As for killing Morano, Rodriguez
believed, or thought he believed, that he was too far from the
road for it to be possible to overtake him to mete out his just
punishment.
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