[The Velvet Glove by Henry Seton Merriman]@TWC D-Link bookThe Velvet Glove CHAPTER VI 8/15
Yet he was so clearly a man in authority that a casual observer could scarcely have failed to perceive that these devout pilgrims, from Italy, from France, from far-off Poland, and Saragossa close at hand in Catalonia, had come to meet him and were subordinate to him. It was probably no small task to command such men as Evasio Mon--and the other four seemed no less pliable behind their gentle smile. When the dessert had been placed on the table and one or two had reflectively eaten a baked almond, more from habit than desire, the little wizened man looked round the table with the manner of a rather absent-minded host. "It is eight o'clock," he said in French.
"The monastery gate closes at half-past.
We have no time to discuss our business at this table.
Shall we go within the monastery gates? There is a seat by the wall, near the fountain, in the courtyard--" He rose as he spoke, and it became at once apparent that this was a great man.
For all stood aside as he passed out, and one opened the door as to a prince; of which amenities he took no heed. The monastery is built against the sheer side of the mountain, perched on a cornice, like a huge eagle's nest.
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