Alas! Bloodshed, ruin, and desolation! A great battle was about to be
fought.



CHAPTER XVI

NIGHT

Orbajosa slept. The melancholy street-lamps were shedding their last
gleams at street-corners and in by-ways, like tired eyes struggling in
vain against sleep. By their dim light, wrapped in their cloaks, glided
past like shadows, vagabonds, watchmen, and gamblers. Only the hoarse
shout of the drunkard or the song of the serenader broke the peaceful
silence of the historic city. Suddenly the "Ave Maria Purisima" of some
drunken watchman would be heard, like a moan uttered in its sleep by the
town.

In Dona Perfecta's house also silence reigned, unbroken but for a
conversation which was taking place between Don Cayetano and Pepe Rey,
in the library of the former. The savant was seated comfortably in
the arm-chair beside his study table, which was covered with papers
of various kinds containing notes, annotations, and references, all
arranged in the most perfect order. Rey's eyes were fixed on the heap of
papers, but his thoughts were doubtless far away from this accumulated
learning.

"Perfecta," said the antiquary, "although she is an excellent woman, has
the defect of allowing herself to be shocked by any little act of folly.
In these provincial towns, my dear friend, the slightest slip is dearly