It was a rural resort of the Moorish
kings of Granada, and has in modern times been granted to the Duke
of Wellington.
Our worthy squire made a half melancholy face as he drew forth,
for the last time, the contents of his alforjas, lamenting that our
expedition was drawing to a close, for, with such cavaliers, he
said, he could travel to the world's end. Our repast, however, was a
gay one; made under such delightful auspices. The day was without a
cloud. The heat of the sun was tempered by cool breezes from the
mountains. Before us extended the glorious Vega. In the distance was
romantic Granada surmounted by the ruddy towers of the Alhambra, while
far above it the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada shone like silver.
Our repast finished, we spread our cloaks and took our last siesta
al fresco, lulled by the humming of bees among the flowers and the
notes of doves among the olive-trees. When the sultry hours were
passed we resumed our journey. After a time we overtook a pursy little
man, shaped not unlike a toad and mounted on a mule. He fell into
conversation with Sancho, and finding we were strangers, undertook
to guide us to a good posada. He was an escribano (notary), he said,
and knew the city as thoroughly as his own pocket. "Ah Dios,
senores! what a city you are going to see. Such streets! such squares!
such palaces! and then the women- ah Santa Maria purisima- what
women!" "But the posada you talk of," said I; "are you sure it is a
good one?"
"Good! Santa Maria! the best in Granada.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52