We were to sup and sleep at Ocaña, in order to wait for the _correo real_, so that by joining ourselves to it we might profit by its escort, for we were about to enter La Mancha, infested at that time by the bands of Palillos, Polichinelle, and other honest people with whom a meeting would prove far from agreeable. We stopped at an hotel of decent appearance, before which was a _patio_ with columns, and, over this _patio_, a superb _tendido_, of which the cloth, now double, now single, formed designs and symmetrical figures by its different shades of transparency. The name of the maker, with his address at Barcelona, was written on it by this means very legibly. Myrtles, pomegranates, and jasmines, planted in red clay pots, enlivened and perfumed this sort of inner court, in which reigned a clear, subdued kind of twilight full of mystery. The _patio_ is a delightful invention; it affords greater coolness and more space than a room; you can walk about there, read, be alone or mix with others. It is a neuter ground where people meet, and where, without undergoing the tediousness of formal visits and introductions, they end by becoming known to one another and by forming acquaintance; and when, as at Granada or at Seville, the _patio_ possesses a jet of water or a fountain, nothing can be more delightful, especially in a country where the thermometer always indicates a Senegambian heat. While waiting for our repast, we went to take a siesta: this is a habit which you are compelled to follow in Spain, for the heat from two to five o'clock is such as no Parisian can form an idea of. The pavement burns, the iron knockers on the doors grow red-hot, a shower of fire seems to be falling from the sky; the corn bursts from its spikes, the ground cracks like over-heated porcelain, the grass-hoppers make their corselets grate with more vivacity than ever, and the little air which fans your face seems to be blown forth by the brazen mouth of a large furnace; the shops are closed, and all the gold in the world would not induce a tradesman to sell you the slightest article. In the streets are to be seen dogs and Frenchmen only, according to the popular saying, which is far from flattering for us. The guides refuse to take you to the most insignificant monument, even though you offer them Havannah cigars or a ticket for a bull-fight, two most seductive things for a Spanish _cicerone_. The only thing you can do is to sleep like the rest, and you very soon make up your mind to do so; for what else can you do in the midst of a nation fast asleep! Our rooms, which were whitewashed, were scrupulously clean. The insects of which we had heard such awful descriptions did not yet make their appearance, and our sleep was troubled by no thousand-footed nightmare.