and men be camped upon the foughten field then is the time for cooking; for many a man that fights the wars, if he hath not his food, were well content to let the enemy live, but feed him and at once he becometh proud at heart and cannot a-bear the sight of the enemy walking among his tents but must needs slay him outright.  Aye, master, the cooking for the wars; and when the wars are over you who are learned shall study strategy.”

And Rodriguez perceived that there was wisdom in the world that was not taught in the College of San Josephus, near to his father’s valleys, where he had learned in his youth the ways of books.

“Morano,” he said, “let us now leave mine host to entertain la Garda.”

And at the mention of the guard hurry came on Morano, he closed his lips upon his store of wisdom, and together they left the Inn of the Dragon and Knight.  And when Rodriguez saw shut behind him that dark door of oak that he had so persistently entered, and through which he had come again to the light of the sun by many precautions and some luck, he felt gratitude to Morano.  For had it not been for Morano’s sinister hints, and above all his remark that mine host would have driven him thence because he liked him, the evil look of the sombre chamber alone might not have been enough to persuade him to the precautions that cut short the dreadful business of that inn.  And with his gratitude was a feeling not unlike remorse, for he felt that he had deprived this poor man of a part of his regular wages, which would have been his own gold ring and the setting that held the sapphire, had all gone well with the business.  So he slipped the ring from his finger and gave it to Morano, sapphire and all.

Morano’s expressions of gratitude were in keeping with that flowery period in Spain, and might appear ridiculous were I to expose them to the eyes of an age in which one in Morano’s place on such an occasion would have merely said, “Damned good of you old nut, not half,” and let the matter drop.

I merely record therefore that Morano was grateful and so expressed himself; while Rodriguez, in addition to the pleasant glow in the mind that comes from a generous action, had another feeling that gives all of us pleasure, or comfort at least (until it grows monotonous), a feeling of increased safety; for while he had the ring upon his finger and Morano went unpaid the thought could not help occurring, even to a generous mind, that one of these windy nights Morano might come for his wages.

“Master,” said Morano looking at the sapphire now on his own little finger near the top joint, the only stone amongst his row of rings, “you must surely have great wealth.”

“Yes,” said Rodriguez slapping the scabbard that held his Castilian blade.  And when he saw that Morano’s eyes were staring at the little emeralds that were dotted along the velvet of the scabbard he explained that it was the sword that was his wealth: