And when he faltered through sorrow, or memory weakening, Morano
always, watching with glittering eyes, would touch his arm,
sitting beside him, and ask some question, and the captive would
answer the question and so talk sadly on.
He told of the upper terraces, where heliotrope and aloe and
oleander took sunlight far above their native earth: and though
but rare winds carried the butterflies there, such as came to
those fragrant terraces lingered for ever.
And after a while he spoke on carelessly, and Morano's questions
ended, and none of the men in the firelight said a word; but he
spoke on uninterrupted, holding them as by a spell, with his eyes
fixed far away on black crags of the Pyrenees, telling of his
great towers: almost it might have seemed he was speaking of
mountains. And when the fire was only a deep red glow and white
ash showed all round it, and he ceased speaking, having told of a
castle marvellous even amongst the towers of Spain: all sitting
round the embers felt sad with his sadness, for his sad voice
drifted into their very spirits as white mists enter houses, and
all were glad when Rodriguez said to him that one of his ten tall
towers the captive should keep and should live in it for ever. And
the sad man thanked him sadly and showed no joy.
When the tale of the castle and those great towers was done, the
wind that blew from the snow touched all the hearers; they had
seemed to be away by the bank of the Ebro in the heat and light of
Spain, and now the vast night stripped them and the peaks seemed
to close round on them.
Pages:
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224