Jayme de Marchena stayed by the lonely sea because that
seemed the safest place to stay. At hand was the small
port of Palos that might not know what was breeding in
Seville, and going thither at nightfall I found lodging and
supper in a still corner where all night I heard the Tinto
flowing by.

I had wandered to Palos because of the Franciscan convent
of Santa Maria de la Rabida and my very distant kins-
man, Fray Juan Perez. The day after the gray day by the
shore I walked half a league of sandy road and came to
convent gate. The porter let me in, and I waited in a little
court with doves about me and a swinging bell above until
the brother whom he had called returned and took me to
Prior's room. At first Fray Juan Perez was stiff and cold,
but by littles this changed and he became a good man, large-
minded and with a sense for kindred. Clearly he thought
that I should not have had a Jewish grandmother, nor have
lived with her from my third to my tenth birthday, and most
clearly that I should not have written that which I had
written. But his God was an energetic, enterprising, kindly
Prince, rather bold himself and tolerant of heathen. Fray
Juan Perez even intimated a doubt if God wanted
the Inquisition. "But that's going rather far!" he said
hastily and sat drumming the table and pursing his lips.
Presently he brought out, "But you know I can't do anything!"

I did know it. What could he do? I suppose I had
had a half-hope of something. I knew not what. Without