He stood with humbly-folded hands and a meek face while the two men lifted Don Francisco de Mogente on to a long narrow blanket, the cloak of Navarre and Aragon, which one of them had brought with him.
They bore him slowly away, and the friar lingered behind.

The moon shone down brightly into the narrow street and showed a great patch of blood amid the cobblestones.

In Saragossa, as in many Spanish cities, certain old men are employed by the municipal authorities to sweep the dust of the streets into little heaps.

These heaps remain at the side of the streets until the dogs and the children and the four winds disperse the dust again.

It is a survival of the middle ages, interesting enough in its bearing upon the evolution of the modern municipal authority and the transmission of intellectual gifts.
The friar looked round him, and had not far to look.