The silence was not again broken before Leon de Mogente came in.
He looked from one to the other with an apprehensive glance.

His pale eyes had that dulness which betokens, if not an absorption in the things to come, that which often passes for the same, an incompetence to face the present moment.
"I was about to write to you," he said, addressing himself to Sarrion.

"I am having a mass celebrated tomorrow in the Cathedral.

My father, I know...

" "I shall be there," said Sarrion, rather shortly.
"And Marcos ?" "I, also," replied Marcos.
"One must do what one can," said Leon, with a resigned sigh.
Marcos, the man of action and not of words, looked at him and said nothing.