two in the afternoon
The deputy looked toward the only balcony window that was open , though but slightly . His mother and don Andrés were still talking in the dining-room -- and of him , as usual , without a doubt ! And , lest they should call him , and suddenly deprive him of his keen enjoyment at being alone , he left the _ patio _ and went out into the street . It was only the month of March ; but at two in the afternoon the air was almost uncomfortably hot . Accustomed to the cold wind of Madrid and to the winter rains , Rafael inhaled , with a sense of voluptuous pleasure , the warm breeze that wafted the perfume of the blossoming orchards through the narrow lanes of the ancient town . Once , years before , he had been in Italy on a Catholic pilgrimage , entrusted by his mother to the care of a priest from Valencia , who would not think of returning to Spain without paying a visit to don Carlos . A memory of a Venetian _ calle _ now came back to Rafael 's mind as he traversed the streets of old Alcira -- shadowy , cramped , sunk deep as wells between rows of high houses .