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The Admiral returned all salutations with dignity and courtesy. Then, with the two lads, he entered the Church of St. George, which was already dark. Before the altar burned the undying sanctuary lamp. An old priest was leaving the altar, followed by a small fisher-boy not much bigger than the little Fernando and wearing a white surplice over a scarlet cassock. When they were gone the Admiral and Diego and Don Felipe were in the church alone.

The Admiral knelt, as did the two youths, the Admiral kneeling so long that Diego and Don Felipe began to look with yearning toward the open door of the church, through which the cheerful sounds of evening floated. The voice of the night watchman calling the hour was heard as he marched up and down the street carrying a lantern on a pole. Sounds of music and dancing rang from the courtyard of a little tavern near by, where a pack-train of mules had just arrived and the muleteers were making merry. The two youths were not often allowed out of the monastery at that hour, and they longed with the longing of boyhood to see the life and the gaiety of the town. A half-hour passed, and Diego and Felipe had remained admirably quiet; but now the limit of boyish endurance was reached. Don Felipe began to cough, and Diego knocked over a footstool which made a fearful clatter in the stillness of the darkened church. The Admiral rose and walked out, followed by Diego and Don Felipe. Never had the little seaport looked gayer or more picturesque. From many balconies and casements came the sounds of singing, and a handsome cavalier in a velvet mantle was coming down the street strumming his guitar and rehearsing the song he intended to sing under the window of his lady-love.