the church vibrated under the blows of
certain acolytes engaged in removing the dust from the famous carved
stalls in the choir; it seemed as though the Cathedral had awoke
with its nerves irritated, and that the slightest touch produced
complaints.

The men's footsteps resounded with a tremendous echo, as though the
tombs of all the kings, archbishops and warriors hidden under the
tiled floor were being disturbed.

The cold inside the church was even more intense than that outside;
this, together with the damp of its soil traversed by underground
water drains, and the leakage of subterranean and hidden tanks
that stained the pavement, made the poor canons in the choir cough
horribly, "shortening their lives," as they complainingly said.

The morning light began to spread through the naves, bringing out of
the darkness the spotless whiteness of the Toledan Cathedral, the
purity of its stone making it the lightest and most beautiful of
temples. One could now see all the elegant and daring beauty of the
eighty-eight pillars soaring audaciously into space, white as frozen
snow, and the delicate ribs interlacing to carry the vaulting. In the
upper storey the sun shone through the large stained-glass windows,
making them look like fairy gardens.

Gabriel seated himself on the base of one of the pilasters between two
columns; but he was soon obliged to rise and move on, the dampness
of the stone, and the vault-like cold throughout the whole building
penetrated to his very bones.

He strolled through the naves, attracting the attention of the
devotees, who stopped in their prayers to watch him. A stranger at
that early hour, which belonged specially to the familiars of the
Cathedral, excited their curiosity.

The bell-ringer passed him several times, following him with uneasy
glance, as though this unknown man, of poverty-stricken aspect, who
wandered aimlessly about at an hour when the treasures of the church
were, as a rule, not so strictly watched, inspired him with little
confidence.

Another man met him near the high altar. Luna recognised him also: it
was Eusebio, the sacristan of the chapel of the Sagrario, "Azul de la
Virgen,"[1] as he was called by the Cathedral staff, on account of the
celestial colour of the cloak he wore on festival days.

[Footnote 1: Virgin's blue.]

Six years had passed since Gabriel had last seen him, but he had not
forgotten his greasy carcase, his surly face with its narrow, wrin