CHAPTER XXVII 



CuENCA, May I. 



We set off at twelve in the banqueta at the top of the 

 diligence. After a tedious day of barren, uninteresting 

 country, a still more tedious night came on. We luckily 

 had it to ourselves, and tossing up for choice of places, 

 disposed ourselves, Harry under foot, below the leather 

 apron, and I along the seat. 



The relative advantages were nearly balanced. He had 

 more shelter from the wind ; I had a hard leather seat 

 instead of a bare foot-board to lie upon. It grew colder and 

 colder. The wind whistled and howled in the cabriolet- 

 head, whose leather curtains, as a matter of course, would 

 not meet by full two feet. 



I did something temporary with my silk pocket-hand- 

 kerchief, tying it at the corners to stop the gap. It sagged 

 in like a bellying sail, and the cold air blew in through it 

 as if it was a sieve, and only let the most rarified and 

 piercing particles pass. Harry, in a melancholy sleepy 

 voice from below, said that it acted as a wind-sail, and 

 turned the draught down below decks. 



We were in our Madrid dresses, and had not brought 

 our capas (mine, indeed, was in the neighbourhood of Jaen, 

 but I might have brought my plaid). I can't think how 

 we could have been so stupid ; but at our outset there was 



