Cats and mice fled together to the far-away corners.

The terrified birds sped like arrows through the skylights of the roof.
The poor notary!...

He had never returned empty-handed when called outside of the city by the confidence of the rich farmers, incapable of believing in any other legal science than his.

That was the time when the antique dealers had not yet discovered rich Valencia, where the common people dressed in silks for centuries, and furniture, clothing and pottery seemed always to be impregnated with the light of steady sunshine and with the blue of an always clear atmosphere.
Don Esteban, who believed himself obliged to be an antiquarian by virtue of his membership in various local societies, was continually filling up his house with mementoes of the past picked up in the villages, or that his clients freely gave him.

He was not able to find wall space enough for the pictures, nor room in his salons for the furniture.