Go up--let us go up." And taking hold of the vagabond affectionately, they passed out of the cloister through the beggars, who had followed the interview with curious eyes, without, however, being able to hear a single word.

They crossed the street and entered the staircase of the tower.

The steps were of red brick, worn and broken; the whitewashed walls were covered on all sides with grotesque drawings and various inscriptions, scrawled by those who had ascended the tower, attracted by the fame of the big bell.
Gabriel went up slowly, gasping, and stopping at every step.
"I am ill, Esteban, very ill; these bellows let out the wind in every part." Then, as though repenting his forgetfulness, he suddenly asked: "And Pepa, your wife?
I hope she is all right." The brows of the Cathedral servant contracted, and his eyes became bright as though full of tears.
"She died," he said with laconic sadness.
Gabriel stopped suddenly, clinging to the handrail, struck with surprise; then, after a short silence, he went on, wishing to console his brother.
"But, Sagrario, my niece, she must have grown a beauty.

The last time I saw her she looked like a queen, with her crown of auburn hair and her smiling face, with its golden bloom, like a ripe apricot.

Did she marry the cadet, or is she still with you ?" The "Wooden Staff" appeared even more sad, and he looked grimly at his brother.
"She also died," he said drily.
"Sagrario also dead!" exclaimed Gabriel astounded.
"She is dead to me, which is the same thing.