"I have heard," said Lyaeus, "that the sensations of starving are very
interesting--people have visions more vivid than life."

"One needs very few sensations to lead life humbly and beautifully,"
said the man on the grey horse in a gentle tone of reproof.

Lyaeus frowned.

"Perhaps," said the man on the grey horse turning towards Telemachus
his lean face, where under scraggly eyebrows glowered eyes of soft dark
green, "it is that I have brooded too much on the injustice done in the
world--all society one great wrong. Many years ago I should have set
out to right wrong--for no one but a man, an individual alone, can
right a wrong; organization merely substitutes one wrong for
another--but now ... I am too old. You see, I go fishing instead."

"Why, it's a fishing pole," cried Lyaeus. "When I first saw it I
thought it was a lance." And he let out his roaring laugh.

"And such trout," cried the dumpling man. "The trout there are in that
little stream above Illescas! That's why we got up so early, to fish
for trout."

"I like to see the dawn," said the man on the grey horse.

"Is that Illescas?" asked Telemachus, and pointed to a dun brown tower
topped by a cap of blue slate that stood guard over a cluster of roofs
ahead of them. Telemachus had a map torn from Baedecker in his pocket
that he had been peeping at secretly.

"That, gentlemen, is Illescas," said the man on the grey horse. "And if
you will allow me to offer you a cup of coffee, I shall be most
pleased. You must excuse me, for I never take anything before midday. I
am a recluse, have been for many years and rarely stir abroad. I do not
intend to return to the world unless I can bring something with me
worth having." A wistful smile twisted a little the corners of his
mouth.

"I could guzzle a hogshead of coffee accompanied by vast processions of
toasted rolls in columns of four," shouted Lyaeus.

"We are on our way to Toledo," Telemachus broke in, not wanting to give
the impression that food was their only thought.

"You will see the paintings of Dominico Theotocopoulos, the only one
who ever depicted the soul of Castile."

"This man," said Lyaeus, with a slap at Telemachus's shoulder, "is
looking for a gesture."

"The gesture of Castile."

The man on the grey horse rode along silently for some time. The sun
had already burnt up the hoar-frost along the sides of the road; only
an occasional streak remained glistening in the shadow of a ditch. A