'"
The two women shuddered and crossed themselves.
"And what says Pereo of the fulfillment of his prophecy?" asked
Faquita, hugging herself in her shawl with a certain titillating
shrug of fascinating horror.
"It is even possible he understands it not. Thou knowest how dazed
and dumb he ever is after these visions--that he comes from them as
one from the grave, remembering nothing. He has lain like a log
all the morning."
"Ay; but this news should awaken him, if aught can. He loved not
this sneaking Doctor. Let us seek him; mayhap, Sanchez may be
there. Come! The mistress lacks us not just now; the guests are
provided for. Come!"
She led the way to the eastern angle of the casa communicating by a
low corridor with the corral and stables. This was the old "gate-
keep" or quarters of the mayordomo, who, among his functions, was
supposed to exercise a supervision over the exits and entrances of
the house. A large steward's room or office, beyond it a room of
general assembly, half guard-room, half servants' hall, and Pereo's
sleeping-room, constituted his domain. A few peons were gathered
in the hall near the open door of the apartment where Pereo lay.
Stretched on a low pallet, his face yellow as wax, a light burning
under a crucifix near his head, and a spray of blessed palm,
popularly supposed to avert the attempts of evil spirits to gain
possession of his suspended faculties, Pereo looked not unlike a
corpse. Two muffled and shawled domestics, who sat by his side,
might have been mourners, but for their voluble and incessant
chattering.
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