Chapter 5

           THEGouldcarriagewasthefirsttoreturnfromtheharbourtotheemptytown.Ontheancientpavement,laidoutinpatterns,sunkintorutsandholes,theportlyIgnacio,mindfulofthespringsoftheParisian-builtlandau,hadpulleduptoawalk,andDecoudinhiscornercontemplatedmoodilytheinneraspectofthegate.Thesquatturretedsidesheldupbetweenthemamassofmasonrywithbunchesofgrassgrowingatthetop,andagrey,heavilyscrolled,armorialshieldofstoneabovetheapexofthearchwiththearmsofSpainnearlysmoothedoutasifinreadinessforsomenewdevicetypicaloftheimpendingprogress.

           TheexplosivenoiseoftherailwaytrucksseemedtoaugmentDecoud’sirritation.Hemutteredsomethingtohimself,thenbegantotalkaloudincurt,angryphrasesthrownatthesilenceofthetwowomen.Theydidnotlookathimatall;whileDonJose,withhissemi-translucent,waxycomplexion,overshadowedbythesoftgreyhat,swayedalittletothejoltsofthecarriagebythesideofMrs.Gould.

           “Thissoundputsanewedgeonaveryoldtruth.”

           DecoudspokeinFrench,perhapsbecauseofIgnacioontheboxabovehim;theoldcoachman,withhisbroadbackfillingashort,silver-braidedjacket,hadabigpairofears,whosethickrimsstoodwellawayfromhiscroppedhead.

           “Yes,thenoiseoutsidethecitywallisnew,buttheprincipleisold.