seven o'clock
He went up to the horse , patted it , measured the length of the stirrup-leather , and then turned to Fitz . `` I will go to Lloseta , '' he said . `` It is only natural after forty years . I will be with you by seven o'clock to-night at D'Erraha . '' Fitz did not offer to accompany him , and Cipriani de Lloseta rode that strange ride alone ; unknown , an outcast in his own land , he rode through the most fertile valley in the world , of which every tree was dear to him ; and no man knew his thoughts . The labourers in the fields , men and women , brown , sunburnt , half Moorish , wholly simple and natural , paused in their toil and looked wonderingly at the lonely horseman ; the patient mules walking their ceaseless round at the Moorish wells blinked lazily at him ; the eagles of Lloseta swept slowly round in a great circle far above the old castle , as they had swept in his childhood , and he looked up at them with his strange patient smile . He pushed the great olive-wood gate open and passed into the terraced garden , all overgrown , neglected , mournful .