The painting represented a tall man, crowned and wearing Eastern
armour, with a small slave in short jacket and baggy white breeches
holding a white charger in readiness; all three figures awkwardly
drawn and without knowledge of anatomy. For background my scouring
had brought to light a group of buildings, and among them just such a
church as this, with just such a belfry. Of architecture and its
different styles I knew nothing; but, comparing the church before me
with what I could recollect of the painting, I recognized every
detail, from the cupola, high-set upon open arches, to the round,
windowless apse in which the building ended.
My father, meanwhile, had taken a lantern and explored the interior.
"I know this place," he announced quietly, as he reappeared, after
two or three minutes, in the ruinous doorway; "it is called Paomia.
We can bivouac in peace, and I doubt if by searching we could find a
better spot."
We ate our supper of cold bacon and ship-bread, both slightly damaged
by sea-water--but the wine solaced us, being excellent--and stretched
ourselves to sleep under the ilex boughs, my father undertaking to
stand sentry till daybreak.
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