Three or four decently clad women in black came forward into the vaulted passage, and smiled and nodded awkwardly.
They were the people Don Teodoro had engaged for her service.

She had a word for each and patted them on the shoulder, and they led the way, two and two, carrying a light between them, for it was very dark within, though there was still broad daylight without.
Then, all at once, she scarcely knew how, Veronica was standing upon a little balcony.

Behind her, the walls of the embrasure were fully fifteen feet thick.

Before her, under the glow of the sunset on the one hand, and the first pale moonlight on the other, lay a great valley, deep and long and broadening fan-like from below her to the far distance, where the evening mists were beginning to gather the white light of the moon, while the great mountains of the southeast were still red with the last blood of the dying day--a view of matchless peace and surpassing beauty, such as she had never yet seen.

Just then, she looked down, and there, at her feet, were the brown roofs of Muro.