nd alone. The priest asked, hardly moving his lips: "What do
you trust to?"

I had the time to meditate my reply. "Tell Carlos I think of escape by
sea."

He made a little sign of assent, turned off towards the staircase, and
went back to the sick room.

"The folly of it," I thought. How could I think of it? Escape where? I
dared not even show myself outside the Casa. My safety within depended
on old Cesar more than on anybody else. He had the key of the gate, and
the gate was practically the only thing between me and a miserable death
at the hands of the first ruffian I met outside. And with the thought I
seemed to stifle in that _patio_ open to the sky.

That gate seemed to cut off the breath of life from me. I was there, as
if in a trap. Should I--I asked myself--try to enlighten Don Balthasar?
Why not? He would understand me. I would tell him that in his own town,
as he always called Rio Medio, there lurked assassination for his guest.
That would move him if anything could.

He was then walking with O'Brien after dinner, as he had walked with me
on the day of my arrival. Only Seraphina had not appeared, and we three
men had sat out the silent meal alone.

They stopped as I approached, and Don Balthasar listened to me
benignantly. "Ah, yes, yes! Times have changed." But there was no reason
for alarm. There were some undesirable persons. Had they not arrived
lately? He turned to O'Brien, who stood by, in readiness to resume
the walk, and answered, "Yes, quite lately. Very undesirable," in a
matter-of-fact tone. The excellent Don Patricio would take measures
to have them removed, the old man soothed me. But it was not really
dangerous for any one to go out. Again he addressed O'Brien, who only
smiled gently, as much as to say, "What an absurdity!" I must not
forget, continued the old man, the veneration for the very name of Riego
that still, thank Heaven, survived in these godless and revolutionary
times in the Riegos' own town. He straightened his back a little,
looking at me with dignity, and then glanced at the other, who inclined
his head affirmatively. The utter and complete hopelessness of the
position appalled me for a moment. The old man had not put foot outside
his door for years, not even to go to church. Father Antonio said
Mass for him every day in the little chapel next the dining room.
When O'Brien--for his own purposes, and the better to conceal his own
connection with the Rio Medio piracies--had