The clock at San Fernando immediately vouchsafed the information that it was nine o'clock.

There was no one astir, no one on the road before or behind him.

Across the narrow canal was a bare field.
The convent wall bounded the view on the left hand.
Sarrion rode up to the gate and rang a bell, which clanged with a sort of surreptitiousness just within.

He only rang once, and then waited, posting himself immediately opposite a little grating let into the solid wood of the door.

The window behind the grating seemed to open and shut without sound, for he heard nothing until a woman's voice asked who was there.
"It is the Count Ramon de Sarrion who must without fail speak to the Sister Superior to-night," he answered, and composed himself again in the saddle with a southern patience.