He entertained Gabriel with the account of all the attempts at robbery which had happened during the century.  In the Cathedral was enough wealth to tempt a saint, Madrid was near, and he much feared the “swell” thieves.  But thieves would have to be clever and fortunate to get the better of them.  Silver Stick, the bell-ringer, and the sacristan made their nightly inspection before locking up, Mariano then taking the keys away with him to the belfry.  No one could think of breaking the locks and bolts, for they were of antique and extremely strong work; besides, they two were there inside to give the alarm on hearing the slightest noise.  Formerly, by the help of the dog, the watching had been more complete, for the animal was so alert that no passer-by could approach the doors for an instant without his barking.  After its death the Senor Obrero spoke month after month of getting another, but he had never fulfilled his promise.  But all the same, without the dog, they two were there and that meant something, eh!  He with his old pistol which had never been fired, and Gabriel with his carbine, which was still standing in the corner where his predecessor had left it.  He plumed himself upon the fear he and his companion would excite, but, called back to reality by Luna’s smile, he added: 

“At any rate, in case of emergency we can reckon on the bell that summons the canons; the rope hangs down in the choir, and we have only to ring it.  And just imagine what would happen if it rang in the silence of the night!  All Toledo would be on foot, knowing that something serious was taking place in the Cathedral.  With this and those cursed markers that will not let one sleep, one might say that even the king was not so well guarded at night as this church.”

In the morning when the watch was ended, Gabriel would return to his house, perished with cold, longing to stretch himself in bed.  He would find Sagrario in the kitchen, warming the milk he was to drink before turning in.  His gentle companion still called him “uncle” in the presence of the household, and only used the loving “thou” when they were alone.  When he was in bed she would bring the steaming milk, making him drink it with maternal caresses, smoothing the pillows; after which she would carefully close the windows and doors so that no ray of light should disturb him.

“Those nights in the Cathedral!” said she complainingly.  “You are killing yourself, Gabriel.  It is not fit for you.  My father says the same.  As it is certain there is nothing beyond death, and that we shall not see one another, do try and prolong your life by being careful.  Now that we know each other, and are so happy, it would be so sad to lose you!”

Gabriel reassured her.  This would not go on beyond the summer; after that they would give him something better.  She must not be so sad; such a little thing did not kill one.  He would cough just as much living in the Claverias as passing the night in the Cathedral.