As the night fell the colours from the windows above became obscured, and in the darkness of the naves all the lights from the various lamps began to shine like wavering stars; all the outlines of the church were lost, and Gabriel fancied himself once more sleeping at night on the open ground.  It was only when he went the rounds with his lantern in his hand that the outlines of the Cathedral rose out of the shadow ever vaster and more mysterious.  The pillars seemed to start out to meet him, rising suddenly up to the roof with the flashes of light from the lantern, the squares in the tiled floor seemed to dance with every swing of the light, and every now and then Gabriel could feel on his head the flutter of passing wings.  To the screams of the bats were added the hooting of other frightened birds, who in their flight knocked against the pilasters; they were the owls who came down attracted by the oil in the lamps, and who nearly extinguished them with the sweep of their wings.

Every half-hour the silence was disturbed by the sound of rusty wheels and springs, and then a bell with a silvery tone struck; these were the gilded giants of the Puerta del Reloj, marking the passing of time with their hammers.

Gabriel’s companion complained greatly of the innovations introduced by the cardinal for the annoyance of poor folks.  In former times he and his old comrade, once they were locked up, could sleep as they pleased without fear of being reproved by the Chapter.  But His Eminence, who was always endeavouring to find some means of annoying his neighbour, had placed in different parts of the Cathedral certain little clocks brought from abroad, and now they had to go every half-hour, open them and record their visit.  The following day they were examined by Silver Stick, and if any carelessness was discovered he imposed a fine.

“An invention of the demon not to allow us to sleep, comrade.  But all the same we might manage a nap if we help one another.  While one sleeps a bit the other must undertake to check these cursed machines.  No carelessness, eh, fresh man?  The pay is short and hunger great, and we cannot afford fines.”

Gabriel, always good-natured, was the one who made most rounds, looking scrupulously after the markers, while his companion, the Senor Fidel, rested quietly, praising his generosity.  They had given him a good companion; he liked him much better than the old one, with his imperious manners of an old guard, always squabbling as to whose turn it was to get up and make the round.

The poor man coughed as much as Gabriel; his catarrhs disturbed the silence, echoing through the naves till it seemed like several monstrous dogs barking.