balustraded lookout post. We could hear the rattle of the surf creaming
away twelve hundred feet below, and could look down almost sheer into
the many-hued blue water; and behind there were mountains rising
steeply up into the clouds. The view was incomparable.

Then we went down again, winding along a narrow path that was edged
with flowering heath, and gained a jutting crag which seemed almost to
overhang the water; and going on farther amongst the wind-brushed
pines, we came to another spot which we had previously viewed from
above. It was a little round stone oratory perched on the crest of a
jutting pinnacle, and linked to the main rock by a narrow causeway
which rested on a slender arch. It was lit by a lantern in the roof,
and over the altar was the marble effigy of a man of years.

I do not know why it was, but as we stood on the balcony outside that
tiny chapel, leaning over the rail, and listening to the murmur of the
woods beside and of the waters beneath us, I almost felt impelled to
there and then show my companion that little wooden case I carried in
my breast-pocket, and tell her of the vast and wonderful secret it
contained. In fact, I believe it was the very greatness of the impulse
which made me resist it. I am the last man to be called superstitious,
but it seemed to me then that old Lully's shade was hovering near his
birthplace, and was busying itself in my direction. I did not like the
guidance, and so resisted it; and directly afterwards we strolled back
across the bridge, and on through the woods again.

I cannot, I will not tell in detail how the next few days passed. The
little idyl concerns no one but myself--and one other--and there is no
reason to desecrate them by bawling its delicate folds abroad. Suffice
it to say that we went on through Deya to Soller, and then taking
mules, climbed the mountain passes to the convent of Nuestra Senora de
Lluch.

"You can stay here if you choose," observed my companion, as our mules
drank out of the fountain basin in the courtyard. "Inside the big
doorway yonder is written up '_Silencio_' and '_Vir prudens
tacebit_,' but the monks are not overstrict, and, like the Archduke
at Miramar, they offer free hospitality to all wayfarers. If you have
never stayed in a convent of this kind before, the experience will
amuse you."

"And you?"

"Oh, I shall go on to Pollensa, and you can join me there, if you
choose, to-morrow."

"But why not remain here?"