In front of it were twelve pines planted in a row at irregular intervals.

The shadow of each tree in succession fell upon a low stone cross set on the ground before the door at each successive hour of the twelve; a fantasy of some holy man long dead.
The chapel door stood open and just within it a priest in his short white surplice awaited their arrival.

Juanita recognised the sunburnt old cura of Torre Garda.
But he only had time to bow rather formally to her; for a bishop was behind.
"I have only lighted one candle," he said to Marcos.

"If we make an illumination they can see it from Pampeluna." The bishop followed the old priest into the sacristy where the one candle gave a flickering light.

There they could be heard whispering together.
Sarrion, Marcos and Juanita stood near the door.