From a high part of the road they suddenly caught sight of Cabril, and the towers of the Franciscan Convent showing white in the moonlight, and the farmhouses sleeping among the gardens. Very silently, with never a dog barking behind the gates or from the top of the walls, they descended to the old Roman bridge. In front of the Calvary the hanged man fell on his knees on the flags, lifted up the livid bones of his hands, and remained a long time in prayer, now and again heaving a deep sigh. Afterwards, as they entered the narrow lane, he drank much and took comfort from a spring that ran and sang under the branches of a willow-tree. As the path was very narrow, he walked in front of the knight, his whole body bent, and his arms firmly crossed over his breast, and made not a sound. The moon was mounting high in the heavens, and Don Ruy gazed with bitterness on that full and lustrous disc which shed such indiscreet brightness all around on his secret. Ah! how the night that should have been a divine one was being spoiled! An immense moon was coming out from between the mountains to lighten up everything. A hanged man descended from the gibbet to follow him, and know all. God had so ordained it; but how sad for him to reach the sweet door, sweetly promised, with such an intruder by his side under that brilliantly clear sky! The hanged man pulled up sharply and raised his arm, from which his sleeve hung in tatters. It was the end of the lane which opened out into a wider and more beaten road: and in front of them the lengthy wall of the Lord of Lara’s _quinta_ showed white, with its belvedere and little stone balconies, the whole covered with ivy. 'Sir,’ murmured the hanged man, respectfully holding Don Ruy’s stirrup, 'the gate by which you must enter the garden is only a few paces from this belvedere. It is best you should leave your horse here, tied to a tree, if you think you can safely trust it, for in the business we are undertaking the mere sound of our footsteps is too much!’ Don Ruy dismounted silently and fastened his horse, which he knew to be faithful and sure, to the trunk of a poplar tree, and, so submissive had he become to that companion imposed by God, that, without further consideration, he followed him touching the wall beaten by the moonlight. The hanged man advanced now with leisurely caution, on bare tiptoe, watching the top of the wall, scrutinising the blackness of the hedge, and stopping to listen for noises which only he perceived--for Don Ruy had never known a night more deeply asleep and dumb. And this fear in one who should have been indifferent to human perils slowly filled the brave knight also with so deep a distrust that he took his dagger from its sheath, folded his cloak round his arm, and walked on guard, with his eyes flashing, as if he were in a place of ambushes and strife. In this manner they arrived at a low door, which the hanged man pushed, and which opened without a creak of the hinges.