Sometimes Tia Antonia has a little levee of
humble friends and dependents, the inhabitants of the adjacent hamlet,
or the wives of the invalid soldiers. These look up to her with
great deference, as the custodian of the palace, and pay their court
to her by bringing the news of the place, or the rumors that may
have straggled up from Granada. In listening to these evening
gossipings I have picked up many curious facts, illustrative of the
manners of the people and the peculiarities of the neighborhood.
These are simple details of simple pleasures; it is the nature of
the place alone that gives them interest and importance. I tread
haunted ground, and am surrounded by romantic associations. From
earliest boyhood, when, on the banks of the Hudson, I first pored over
the pages of old Gines Perez de Hytas's apocryphal but chivalresque
history of the civil wars of Granada, and the feuds of its gallant
cavaliers, the Zegries and Abencerrages, that city has ever been a
subject of my waking dreams, and often have I trod in fancy the
romantic halls of the Alhambra. Behold for once a day-dream
realized; yet I can scarce credit my senses, or believe that I do
indeed inhabit the palace of Boabdil, and look down from its balconies
upon chivalric Granada. As I loiter through these Oriental chambers,
and hear the murmur of fountains and the song of the nightingale; as I
inhale the odor of the rose, and feel the influence of the balmy
climate, I am almost tempted to fancy myself in the paradise of
Mahomet, and that the plump little Dolores is one of the bright-eyed
houris, destined to administer to the happiness of true believers.
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