There was another silence. But Antonio was unperturbed. Not only long years before, as a youth in Portugal, but also during his journey with young Crowberry, he had assisted at bourgeois and rich-peasant functions equally tiresome. Near Blaye, on the Gironde, and again at a _tertulia_ in Valladolid, he had seen the men herding stupidly at one side of the room while the women clung together at the other. A look through the window told him that the rain had ceased; so he resolved to stay ten minutes more, for decency's sake, and then to go home. "Down in the valley we are less gay than this," he said to Donna Perpetua, without intending to be ironical. "My man José and I are the only human beings within two miles." Donna Perpetua threw a glance at her husband, as if to remind him of some pre-arrangement. "If the Senhor is lonely," said the lavrador, "he must come to our _serões_. On Thursdays, at the full moon. That means next Thursday, about seven o'clock. He will do us a great honor." "He will indeed," added Donna Perpetua. "And if he plays the mandolin let him bring it with him." Antonio knew that at the serões, or soirees, of Portuguese farm-folk there was much lore to be learned which one might search for vainly in libraries. Besides, it would hardly be neighborly to refuse an invitation so heartily given and so kindly meant. "All the honor," he said, "is on the other side. I will very gladly come." Only at that moment did he discern the position. Donna Perpetua's glance at Margarida lasted not much longer than a flash of lightning; but, like a flash of lightning, it revealed the truth to Antonio. The furtive looks of Margarida's brothers, both at their sister and at one another, confirmed the revelation; and the evident relief and satisfaction of Senhor Jorge established it beyond a doubt. Not without traces of hauteur in his manner and curtness in his speech Antonio thanked his hosts for their hospitality and took his leave. V The monk strode homewards with wrath in his heart. At both their encounters Jorge dos Santos Rebolla had deceived him by false pretenses. Antonio now understood that the petition for the new bridge was merely an excuse for a spying visit to his little territory; and the lavrador's solicitude for the dryness of Antonio's skin was equally undisinterested. He had been trapped into a compromising position before all the eyes in the parish, and he could hardly get out of it without giving pain to the unoffending Margarida, annoyance to himself, and an opportunity to the gossip-mongers of the village.