so huge andluminous that they gleamed like lamps of fire. Then I caught the soundof a woman crying--not with heartrending sobs that would tear to atomsthe grief that had caused that outburst of emotion--but slowly,regularly, resistlessly, as though sorrow had touched the centre of herbeing and her tears flowed with every single throb of her heart.
Afterwards a scene formed itself in front of me, but whether it was apiece of clever stage realism or the free use of a panorama and acinematograph I could never discover. All at once the light grew softand rosy like that of early summer dawn, and I saw, apparently,stretched in front of me a sandy waste of country, across which the oldmonk, who had just been speaking to me was walking, footsore and bowedwith age and weariness. Then came a shrill blast on a horn, and beforeone could utter even a sound a horde of savages in their war paint sweptacross the landscape and seized the old man and demanded something fromhim which he refused to yield. In a flash they caught him up amongstthem, and there I saw inflicted on him such hideous atrocity and torturethat I found myself reeling backward sick with the smell of burningflesh and faint with the sight of that flow of human blood.
Fortunately, the scene at length faded--everything went completelyblack--and out of a silence, so still that it could be felt almost,there arose the shrill whistle of an Arctic blast that pierced methrough and through with cold. Sharper and sharper grew the frost aboutme. Eventually I became conscious of something that bit and stung whichwas falling on my hands, my face, my shoulders with ever-increasingswiftness, till, stretching out my fingers, I seemed to be in the centreof a bitter and searching snowstorm, above which the moon appeared torise and to exhibit in front of me a man clad in the uniform of aCanadian letter-carrier. Almost as soon as he became visible I couldsee that the man was well-nigh spent and broken with the cold, but, ashe toiled on and on in front of me I saw him sink deeper and deeper intothe drift, until at length, absolutely exhausted, he threw up his armsand fell face downwards in the snow. Oh! how I toiled to reach him asthe snow fell faster and faster, rapidly blocking his form out of sight.Somehow something seemed to force me perpetually to take a wrongdirection--I became conscious of inhaling something uncommonly likechloroform--and I, too, fell.
When I next opened my eyes the scene had changed. Instead of snowcladplain and a wind that howled and whistled and cut through me likea newly-sharpened knife, I seemed to find myself in abrilliantly-furnished throne-room hung with rich tapestries andcandelabra of gold, whilst dotted about the floor were pieces of gildedfurniture of the days of Louis Seize. At the far end of thismagnificent apartment were folding doors, and as, all sick and dizzy,like a man newly recovered from a surgical operation, I arose from thelounge on which in some miraculous fashion I had become stretched I sawthese flung wide open. A stately march broke from an organ in a hiddengallery above, and there entered a procession of pages, who, taking nonotice of my presence, ranged themselves, in their picturesque costumesof a bygone court period, on all sides of the room.
The music now became more jubilant as other figures loomed up in thedoorway--figures of courtiers, jesters, ecclesiastics--until at lengththe apartment was almost filled with people, all conversing eagerly inthat melodious Spanish tongue which I recognised but could not follow,although my knowledge of Latin was really profound enough to qualify mefor a priest. Suddenly, however, the music stopped--all sounds ofconversation ceased as if by magic--and all present appeared to take uptheir allotted positions. The next moment there entered twoecclesiastics in scarlet cassocks and cottas, carrying their birettas intheir hands, whilst close behind there came a thin, white-facedcardinal, clad in the purple of the Roman Church, with the traditionalskull cap at the back of his head.
Very low bent the assemblage at his approach to the throne, and nosooner was he seated than the smell of incense, cast on braziers full ofburning charcoal in the corners of the room, arose, in clouds of smokethat had a most stimulating, instead of an oppressive, feeling upon me.I felt so bright, so strong so elastic that I could run, jump, anything,and I could barely contain myself as supplicant after supplicant enteredthe throne-room, and besought, in Spanish, some favour from thecardinal, who, I gathered, from the constant repetition of the phrase,could be no less a dignitary than the Cardinal-Archbishop of Toledo.Priests came--country cures, apparently newly arrived from remotemountain districts; pale-faced, humble-looking mother superiors, whoseclothes and bearing bore eloquent evidence of their faithfulness totheir vows of poverty and obedience; interspersed with which would nowand then figure some crafty, oily scrivener; or, again, a fat, well-cladmerchant, who seemed to bring the very trafficking of his shop into hislanguage, his gestures, and attitude.
To my surprise, the last comers of all proved to be no less a personagethan the very Prior of the Order of St Bruno, clad in the Benedictinegarb he affected, accompanied by Jose Casteno and two or three of thebrethren. Apparently they had to pay some dues, for a table, crossedlike a draught-board, and a pair of balances were brought in and fixedup before the cardinal, and from stout leather bags carried by thebrethren were poured diamonds and rubies and emeralds that must havebeen worth thousands of pounds. Yet, large as their value looked, theCardinal-Archbishop did not seem satisfied. He rose impatiently fromhis seat on the throne, his thin, ascetic, shrunken figure toweringwrathfully over Mr Cooper-Nassington, who this time looked a prey toacute nervousness, and, shaking a warning finger at the pile of jewels,His Eminence spoke, in the quick, fiery Spanish tongue, some words thatseemed to cause the St Bruno-ites to cower and shiver as though theywere being severely whipped.
A moment later they were hurried out of the audience chamber, and as thecrowd of courtiers and ecclesiastics, who had drawn nearer to the throneduring the altercation, settled themselves once again in theiraccustomed places I saw the Cardinal beckon to one of his chamberlains,to whom he whispered for a few seconds, looking the while, for the firsttime, in my direction.
The man bowed very low at the close of his instructions, and, taking uphis wand of office, he marched with measured and dignified step in mydirection, the crowd stopping suddenly their whispers and watching hismovements with obvious interest. No sooner did he draw level with methan he spoke:
"His Eminence desires that you should approach him, Mr Hugh Glynn," hesaid in excellent English, although his tone was decidedly that of aSpaniard. "He has some offer to make to you which he believes it iswell for you to consider. Pray follow me." And he turned about and ledme right to the steps of the throne itself.
By this time the effect of the incense had very largely passed from me.In a way I was under the influence of the drugs in the sense that I wasconscious of a high degree of exaltation and moral fervour, but the lustfor action had gone and left in its place a consciousness ofextraordinary importance and power.
Very low I bent before the bowed figure in front of me, and after thecustomary salutation: "Pax vobiscum," to which I found myself answeringquite mechanically: "Et cum spiritu tuo," the cardinal addressed me, inrather laboured accents, in my own tongue.
"I have had you brought here, Mr Glynn," he said slowly and with greatcare, "in a rather curious fashion, it is true, but none the lesseffective, although I won't stop now to explain it, for two special andmomentous reasons. The first relates to the Order of St Bruno, fromwhich I had you rescued in the moment of your initiation, for a causethat will quickly appear to all obvious enough. You have seen foryourself how the Prior and his brethren have come before me. They are,as a body, in my debt to an extent that would appal you, and yet,although I am probably one of the most lenient lenders in the world, youhave seen for yourself how they attempt to evade payment by presents ofcostly jewels and of precious stones. Knowing this, I ask you, was itwise of you to want to link yourself with them? Remember, once you jointhem you become liable _ipso facto_ for as much money as they happen toowe and cannot afford to pay for themselves. As a man who has beentrained as a lawyer--nay, as one who intends shortly to incur all thesacred obligations of matrim
ony--is it wise of you to rush blindfoldinto this zone of debt and difficulty you can have no certain knowledgeof, no appreciation? Take time to consider it while I put before youthe second reason why you have been bidden here to this audiencechamber.
"As a matter of fact," he went on with increasing earnestness, "youstand at present in the most important city of Spain--Toledo--whichpossesses one of the most valuable collections of ancient historicalmanuscripts that have remained untranscribed since centuries andcenturies before the days of the ill-fated Armada. In the minds of therulers, however, the time has come for these documents to be disinterredfrom the chests in which they have lain from time immemorial, to bedeciphered, and to be given to the world at the discretion of the headcurator. Now, that place of head curator is vacant, and, although it isdecided that only a Spaniard can fill it, I can easily get you lettersof naturalisation, for I am empowered to
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