?But the eyes, the eyes are Andalusian, and the torrents of black hair piled and puffed under those blessed black mantillas!? murmured Patsy, as they passed, smelling sweet of heliotrope and rice powder. The taller had a rosary of gold and pearls in her left hand, a fan in the right; the pearls slipped through her fingers, her lips moved; she was evidently ?telling her beads.? As they passed the statue of Santa Teresa, both knelt and crossed themselves with extraordinary reverence.

?Remember what Don Jaime said,? ???? Patsy reminded us; ?that the common people of Spain take their religion very easily; everybody did when he was young, till the Queen Mother made it fashionable to be devote, when she came to Spain, bringing back the Jesuits and all the rest of them{54} in her train. As a boy, the Don never remembers having seen a monk or a nun.?

In spite of her ?indifference,? the Sibyl had held stanchly to her proposal that we should visit the convent where she had learned to sew and to embroider. Mass was just over, the priest had left the altar, the sacristan was snuffing out the candles. We had a glimpse of black veiled figures passing slowly behind the altar from one unseen chamber to another; they were followed by slighter, more lightly moving figures in white that flitted ethereally where the others walked solidly. Two by two they passed behind the altar with a noiseless step. When the last one had vanished, the priest and the sacristan disappeared into the sacristy, and we were left alone, with San Antonio and the other saints.