It took her two days to arrive at his house, and all that time she had nothing but wild fruits and berries to live on. Of course she did not tell the cousin who she was, but merely asked if he would give hospitality to a traveller for a short time, which the kind old man was glad to do. Here Catalina rested after the fatigues she had undergone, but life in the town house was far more dull than life in the convent, and the girl had not run away for _that_! So in a few days she was again missing, and a handful of dollars also. Not very many, but just enough to take her on her way. * * * * * We meet Catalina next in the famous city of Valladolid, where King Philip III. was holding his court. Here she found things much more to her taste, and like what she had pictured. Men were walking through the streets in huge felt hats, with flowing cloaks over their fine clothes. Coaches drawn by mules jolted along and inside she caught a glimpse of ringleted heads and small bodies lost under hooped petticoats. There were soldiers, too, in abundance and bands playing music--the first Catalina had ever heard outside the convent chapel. It so delighted her that she stopped to listen, and at that moment some idle men began to laugh at her clumsy garments, and even threw stones at her. This was more than any Spanish girl could bear, even if she _had_ been brought up in a convent. _She_ could--and did--throw stones too, with a better aim than theirs, and very soon blood from cut heads was streaming on the roads. But the Spanish police who hurried to the spot on hearing the cries of the wounded men, did not stop to inquire into the rights of the quarrel, and would have straightway flung Catalina into prison, had not a young officer who had been watching the fight from his windows hastened to interfere, and insisted that the stranger should be released. 'You are a brave boy,' he said, 'and if you like to be my page, I will gladly take you into my house.' Catalina was grateful for the offer and remained there for three months, feeling very proud of herself in her page's dress of dark-blue velvet. She would have stayed with the young don for much longer, had she not been frightened out of her wits one night at dusk by the appearance, in the dark little ante-room where she sat, of her own father. He did not know her, of course; how should he? But all the same, he had come to tell of her escape to Catalina's master, who was in a sort of way lord of the convent. Waiting in the ante-room, the girl heard all their conversation, and in dread lest she should fall into the hands of the Church and be sent back to St. Sebastian she resolved to run off before there was any risk of her being traced.