The beautiful lady plucked a branch of myrtle and
wreathed it round the head of the child. "Let this be a memento", said
she, "of what I have revealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth.
My hour is come; I must return to the enchanted hall; follow me not,
lest evil befall thee- farewell. Remember what I have said, and have
masses performed for my deliverance." So saying, the lady entered a
dark passage leading beneath the Tower of Comares, and was no longer
seen.
The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the cottages below
the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, and a pale streak of light
began to appear above the eastern mountains. A slight wind arose,
there was a sound like the rustling of dry leaves through the courts
and corridors, and door after door shut to with a jarring sound.
Sanchica returned to the scenes she had so lately beheld thronged
with the shadowy multitude, but Boabdil and his phantom court were
gone. The moon shone into empty halls and galleries stripped of
their transient splendor, stained and dilapidated by time, and hung
with cobwebs. The bat flitted about in the uncertain light, and the
frog croaked from the fish-pond.
Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote staircase that led
up to the humble apartment occupied by her family. The door as usual
was open, for Lope Sanchez was too poor to need bolt or bar; she crept
quietly to her pallet, and, putting the myrtle wreath beneath her
pillow, soon fell asleep.
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