The student,
having nothing to do, suffered himself to be carried away by the
holiday-seeking throng until he found himself in the narrow valley
of the Darro, below the lofty hill and ruddy towers of the Alhambra.
The dry bed of the river, the rocks which border it, the terraced
gardens which overhang it were alive with variegated groups, dancing
under the vines and fig-trees to the sound of the guitar and
castanets.
The student remained for some time in doleful dumps, leaning against
one of the huge misshapen stone pomegranates which adorn the ends of
the little bridge over the Darro. He cast a wistful glance upon the
merry scene, where every cavalier had his dame, or, to speak more
appropriately, every Jack his Jill; sighed at his own solitary
state, a victim to the black eye of the most unapproachable of
damsels, and repined at his ragged garb, which seemed to shut the gate
of hope against him.
By degrees his attention was attracted to a neighbor equally
solitary with himself This was a tall soldier, of a stern aspect and
grizzled beard, who seemed posted as a sentry at the opposite
pomegranate. His face was bronzed by time; he was arrayed in ancient
Spanish armor, with buckler and lance, and stood immovable as a
statue. What surprised the student was, that though thus strangely
equipped, he was totally unnoticed by the passing throng, albeit
that many almost brushed against him.
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