Sanchica would have followed; but to her surprise
she beheld an opening in the earth, within the barbican, leading
down beneath the foundations of the tower. She entered for a little
distance, and was encouraged to proceed by finding steps rudely hewn
in the rock, and a vaulted passage here and there lit up by a silver
lamp, which, while it gave light, diffused likewise a grateful
fragrance. Venturing on, she came at last to a great hall, wrought out
of the heart of the mountain, magnificently furnished in the Moorish
style, and lighted up by silver and crystal lamps. Here, on an
ottoman, sat an old man in Moorish dress, with a long white beard,
nodding and dozing, with a staff in his hand, which seemed ever to
be slipping from his grasp; while at a little distance sat a beautiful
lady, in ancient Spanish dress, with a coronet all sparkling with
diamonds, and her hair entwined with pearls, who was softly playing on
a silver lyre. The little Sanchica now recollected a story she had
heard among the old people of the Alhambra, concerning a Gothic
princess confined in the centre of the mountain by an old Arabian
magician, whom she kept bound up in magic sleep by the power of music.
The lady paused with surprise at seeing a mortal in that enchanted
hall. "Is it the eve of the blessed St. John?" said she.
"It is," replied Sanchica.
"Then for one night the magic charm is suspended.
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