At these words "opened! the door, by which the servant came out, and entered a closet hung in black, where a lady in sable weeds, was kneeling before a silver crucifix and two lighted tapers. On my entrance she beckoned me, not to disturb her in her devotion.
Having continued her pious exercise about ten minutes longer, she rose, wiped off some tears from her large and soft-beaming blue eyes and inviting me to follow her into a drawing room:
—"Who are you, Sennor?" asked she, "what service can I render you?"
—"A straying wanderer Madonna," replied I, "that craves the protection of your hospitable roof for a night."
My dress, which was rather disordered and looked shabby owing to the dust of the roads and a shower in which it had got wet, made her survey me with particular attention.
—"Pardon me, Sennor;" resumed she, "I am at a loss in what manner to entertain you. May I make bold to ask your name?"
