do not hear, and one day will turn into a sonorous wood, and
that solitary voice that spreads in the desert like seed will
sprout into a gigantic cedar that will sing with a hundred thousand
tongues an eternal hosanna to the Lord of life and death."

_XVII: Toledo_

"Lyaeus, you've found it."

"Her, you mean."

"No, the essence, the gesture."

"I carry no butterfly net."

The sun blazed in a halo of heat about their heads. Both sides of the
straight road olive trees contorted gouty trunks as they walked past.
On a bank beside a quietly grazing donkey a man was asleep wrapped in a
brown blanket. Occasionally a little grey bird twittered encouragingly
from the telegraph wires. When the wind came there was a chill of
winter and wisps of cloud drifted across the sun and a shiver of silver
ran along the olive groves.

"Tel," cried Lyaeus after a pause, "maybe I have found it. Maybe you
are right. You should have been with me last night."

"What happened last night?" As a wave of bitter envy swept over him
Telemachus saw for a moment the face of his mother Penelope, brows
contracted with warning, white hand raised in admonition. For a
fleeting second the memory of his quest brushed through the back of his
mind. But Lyaeus was talking.

"Nothing much happened. There were a few things.... O this is
wonderful." He waved a clenched fist about his head. "The finest
people, Tel! You never saw such people, Tel. They gave me a tambourine.
Here it is; wait a minute." He placed the bag he carried on his
shoulder on top of a milestone and untied its mouth. When he pulled the
tambourine out it was full of figs. "Look, pocket these. I taught her
to write her name on the back; see, 'Pilar,' She didn't know how to
write."

Telemachus involuntarily cleared his throat.

"It was the finest dive ... Part house, part cave. We all roared in and
there was the funniest little girl ... Lot of other people, fat women,
but my eyes were in a highly selective state. She was very skinny with
enormous black eyes, doe's eyes, timid as a dog's. She had a fat pink
puppy in her lap."

"But I meant something in line, movement, eternal, not that."

"There are very few gestures," said Lyaeus.

They walked along in silence.

"I am tired," said Lyaeus; "at least let's stop in here. I see a bush
over the door."

"Why stop? We are nearly there."

"Why go on?"

"We want to get to Toledo, don't we?"

"Why?"

"Because w