a silent gesture in which we were
included, and rapidly and silently, like the shadow he was, glided away
and was soon lost to sight.

We stood looking at the cathedral, all its wonderful outlines showing up
clearly in the pale pure moonlight. Silence and solitude now reigned
within and without. Then we turned away, and Quasimodo accompanied us as
far as the bottom of the steps. There he bade us farewell and we never
met him again.

The incident passed almost as a dream. We sometimes ask ourselves
whether Quasimodo was really flesh and blood, or an angel that for a
short time had visited the earth in the form of man. But he was no
spirit. We watched his quaint shape as he went down the narrow street,
flashing his light. Towards the end he looked back and turned the lamp
full upon us, as though by way of final benediction. Another turn and he
had passed out of sight.

The street had not the glimmer of a light or the ghost of a sound. Our
own broad thoroughfare was in darkness. The Roman tower seemed wrapped
in the silence and mystery of the centuries. From the end of the road we
looked over the cliff at the sea sleeping in all its expanse, bathed in
moonlight. In the harbour one caught the outlines of the vessels, and
from one of them came the bark of a dog baying at the moon. It was one
of those perfect nights, still, clear and calm, only to be found in
these latitudes.

The cathedral clock had long struck two, when we finally turned towards
the hotel. What if the night-porter failed us, as he had failed in
Lerida? But he was more cunning. He was not there, indeed, but he had
left the door ajar, and the gas slightly turned on at the foot of the
staircase.

We made all fast and sought our rooms. With open windows, even from here
we could hear the faint plash and beating of the ripples upon the
shore--the slight ebb-and-flow movement of this tideless sea. Our dreams
that night were haunted by Quasimodo. We had left the world for realms
where no limit was, and divine harmonies for ever filled the air. Some
hours later this harmony suddenly resolved itself into a bugle call, and
we woke to a new day.

CHAPTER XXVI.

IN THE DAYS OF THE ROMANS.

Charms of Tarragona--Roman traces--Cyclopean remains--Augustus
closes Temple of Janus--Great past--House of Pontius Pilate--Views
from ramparts--Feluccas with white sails set--Life a paradise--City
walls--Cathedral outlines--Lively market-place--Re