er since he turned from the field of the false Don Alvidar:
the balcony held him with invisible threads, such as those with which
Earth draws in the birds at evening. And there was Serafina in her
balcony.

When Rodriguez saw Serafina sitting there in the twilight, just as he
had often dreamed, he looked no more but lowered his head to the
withered rose that he carried now in his hand, the rose that he had
found by that very balcony under another moon. And, gazing still at the
rose, he rode on under the balcony, and passed it, until his hoof-beats
were heard no more in Lowlight and he and his horse were one dim shape
between the night and the twilight. And still he held on.

He knew not yet, but only guessed, who had thrown that rose from the
balcony on the night when he slept on the dust: he knew not who it was
that he fought on the same night, and dared not guess what that unknown
hidalgo might be to Serafina. He had no claim to more from that house,
which once gave him so cold a welcome, than thus to ride by it in
silence. And he knew as he rode that the cloak and the plume that he
wore scarce seemed the same as those that had floated by when more than
a month ago he had ridden past that balcony; and the withered rose that
he carried added one more note of autumn. And yet he hoped.

And so he rode into twilight and was hid from the sight of the village,
a worn, pathetic figure, trusting vaguely to vague powers of good
fortune that govern all men, but that favour youth.

And, sure enough, it was not yet wholly moonlight when cantering hooves
came down the road behind him. It was once more that young hidalgo. And
as soon as he drew rein beside Rodriguez both reached out merry hands
as though their former meeting had been some errand of joy. And as
Rodriguez looked him in the eyes, while the two men leaned over
clasping hands, in light still clear though faded, he could not doubt
Serafina was his sister.

"Senor," said his old enemy, "will you tarry with us, in our house a
few days, if your journey is not urgent?"

Rodriguez gasped for joy; for the messenger from Lowlight, the
certainty that here was no rival, the summons to the house of his
dreams' pilgrimage, came all together: his hand still clasped the
stranger's. Yet he answered with the due ceremony that that age and
land demanded: then they turned and rode together towards Lowlight. And
first the young men told each other their names; and the stranger told