On begging him to show us the way into the town, he led us up a very narrow alley at the end of his cottage, saying that he would likewise conduct us to the _posada_. The alley led directly to what appeared to be the market-place, at a corner house of which our guide stopped and knocked. After a long pause an upper window was opened, and a female voice demanded who we were. The old man replied, that two travellers had arrived who were in need of lodgings. “I cannot be disturbed at this time of night,” said the woman; “they will be wanting supper, and there is nothing in the house; they must go elsewhere.” She was going to shut the window, but I cried that we wanted no supper, but merely a resting-place for ourselves and horses—that we had come that day from Astorga, and were dying with fatigue. “Who is that speaking?” cried the woman. “Surely that is the voice of Gil, the German clockmaker from Pontevedra. Welcome, old companion; you are come at the right time, for my own is out of order. I am sorry I have kept you waiting, but I will admit you in a moment.” The window was slammed to, presently a light shone through the crevices of the door, a key turned in the lock, and we were admitted. CHAPTER XXV. Villafranca—The Pass—Gallegan Simplicity—The Frontier Guard—The Horse-shoe—Gallegan Peculiarities—A Word on Language—The Courier—Wretched Cabins—Host and Guests—Andalusians. “Ave Maria,” said the woman; “whom have we here? This is not Gil the clockmaker.” “Whether it be Gil or Juan,” said I, “we are in need of your hospitality, and can pay for it.” Our first care was to stable the horses, who were much exhausted. We then went in search of some accommodation for ourselves. The house was large and commodious, and, having tasted a little water, I stretched myself on the floor of one of the rooms on some mattresses which the woman produced, and in less than a minute was sound asleep. The sun was shining bright when I awoke. I walked forth into the market-place, which was crowded with people. I looked up, and could see the peaks of tall black mountains peeping over the tops of the houses. The town lay in a deep hollow, and appeared to be surrounded by hills on almost every side. “_Quel pays barbare_!” said Antonio, who now joined me; “the farther we go, my master, the wilder everything looks. I am half afraid to venture into Galicia; they tell me that to get to it we must clamber up those hills: the horses will founder.” Leaving the marketplace, I ascended the wall of the town, and endeavoured to discover the gate by which we should have entered the preceding night; but I was not more successful in the bright sunshine than in the darkness. The town in the direction of Astorga appeared to be hermetically sealed.