right young man for the wars. He divested himself of his shoes and
doublet and the light cloak that hung from his shoulder and cast
the clothes on a chair. Over the back of the chair he slung his
girdle and the scabbard hanging therefrom and placed his plumed
hat so that none could see that his Castilian blade was not in its
resting-place. And when the sombre chamber had the appearance of
one having undressed in it before retiring Rodriguez turned his
attention to the bed, which he noticed to be of great depth and
softness. That something not unlike blood had been spilt on the
floor excited no wonder in Rodriguez; that vast chamber was
evidently, as I have said, in the fortress of some great family,
against one of whose walls the humble inn had once leaned for
protection; the great family were gone: how they were gone
Rodriguez did not know, but it excited no wonder in him to see
blood on the boards: besides, two gallants may have disagreed; or
one who loved not dumb animals might have been killing rats. Blood
did not disturb him; but what amazed him, and would have surprised
anyone who stood in that ruinous room, was that there were clean
new sheets on the bed. Had you seen the state of the furniture and
the floor, O my reader, and the vastness of the old cobwebs and
the black dust that they held, the dead spiders and huge dead
flies, and the living generation of spiders descending and
ascending through the gloom, I say that you also would have been
surprised at the sight of those nice clean sheets. Rodriguez noted
the fact and continued his preparations. He took the bolster from
underneath the pillow and laid it down the middle of the bed and
put the sheets back over it; then he stood back and looked at it,
much as a sculptor might stand back from his marble, then he
returned to it and bent it a little in the middle, and after that
he placed his mandolin on the pillow and nearly covered it with