Robert Lisle did not appear that day and the next was the one set for the expedition to Celorio where Our Lady of Carmen would be triumphantly borne forth in procession. The village, which one passed through from the railway station, was not large, but was charmingly situated. The space around the church was full of people coming and going. On one side stretched blue reaches of sea; on the other arose the Cantabrian mountains. Behind the church stood the monastery around which a fair garden blossomed within high stone walls. Coming from the bright sunlight without, the church looked singularly dark and gloomy as one entered under the gallery for men, so that the two or three steps leading to the body of the church were only dimly discerned, but as one became accustomed to the dimness the very obscurity became a charm, and one could see the age-stained timbers, the quaintly carved capitols of the columns which supported the gallery, the grotesque vases in the chancel, which were now filled with flowers and were in the form of devils. They might well be of pagan origin, but none could tell how old they might be. The gleaming candle points at the altar gave the only light, and this was the more effective because of the dimness beyond, in which knelt upon the stone floor shadowy figures in black. Don Juan’s party found a place on one of the few benches near the entrance, and presently through the low-arched doorway came a white-robed woman on her knees. She was followed by another, then after an interval, by two together. Following these came a mother and her two sons on their bare knees. Others appeared from time to time all making their way slowly down the stone steps and up the body of the church to the altar where the white robes were deposited at the feet of the Virgin. Then mass was said and the Lady of Carmen, preceded by the dancing village maids, was carried forth to the music of the ancient _danza prima_. Following her came the _ramas_ borne by the worthiest young men of this and neighboring villages, then all who wished, carried tall candles and joined in the procession which passed around the church, to the noise of rocket bombs frequently sent off from the tower. “What are they going to do now?” asked Patty as she watched the villagers circle around the huge pyramids of loaves, decorated with flowers. “The girls will sing the song of the _rama_. It is rather a monotonous chant, and one gets deadly tired of it when it is kept up as long as it is liable to be, but it will probably interest you for a while,” Don Juan told her. “And what becomes of the _ramas_?” “The loaves are sold or given to the poor. Sometimes one person buys all and sells the bread for very little.” “It is a sort of harvest home, isn’t it?” “Yes, though here they make a religious ceremony of everything. They end up with a dance, however, and what begins a _romeria_ ends a _fiesta_.”