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CHAPTER III.
A VISIT TO A HACIENDA

One day in October, when the sun was shining in golden beauty, the señora said to her husband:

"I should like to go to the hacienda to-morrow, and take the children with me, for la niña has never seen the picking, and Fernando did not go last year or the year before."

"It will give me pleasure to escort you," said the Señor de Guzman, in the courtly manner which Spanish gentlemen use toward their wives. "At what hour will it please you to start?"

"As early as you can," she answered. "So that we may arrive there in plenty of time to see the picking before luncheon, and after a siesta, drive back in the pleasant part of the afternoon."

"We shall start at nine, then," said her husband, "and should arrive there by ten or a little after."

When Fernando returned from school and heard that he was to accompany his mother next day, he was nearly beside himself with joy.

"Juanita," he cried, "you have no idea how delightful it is at the fruit farm! I have not been there for two years, but I remember it well. All the oranges one can eat, and such raisins! You will much enjoy it, I am sure."

He was up bright and early next day, and impatient to start long before his mother was ready, and even his father was waiting before the señora made her appearance. She was a large woman, and very slow and graceful in her movements. No one had ever seen her hurried, and every one expected to wait for her, so that it was nearly half-past nine when they started. The coachman whipped up the horses, and away they went skimming over the rough stones. Fernando sat with Diego and Manuel on the front seat of the carriage, while Dolores sat beside the señora, holding Juanita on her lap. The señor rode upon his high-stepping Andalusian horse beside the carriage, and pointed out places of interest to the children as they drove along.

A gay young officer passed by them, young and slim, riding a handsome horse, and some soldiers were manœuvring on the Plaza. One poor fellow, once a gay soldier, but now with an empty sleeve, dressed in a faded army blouse and wearing a merit medal, was begging in the street, and the señor stopped to give him a piece of silver, for Spaniards are always generous and pitiful, and cannot resist a beggar. "He had served in Cuba," said the señor to his wife, and she sighed as she thought of the many lost to Spain and their dear ones in that useless war.

Fruit-venders passed along the street, and donkeys so laden with fruit and flowers that almost nothing could be seen of them but their slim little legs and their great waving ears. Water-carriers were there, carrying huge jars which looked like those used by the old Moors; and a travelling merchant, in gray garments, but with brightly dressed mules. It was not so bright a party that they passed later, for a peasant funeral passed by on its way to the cemetery. Four young men carried the bier, upon which was the body of a child, covered all but its face, which lay exposed to the sun.

"Take off your hat, son," said the señora. "Always do so to a passing funeral, for maybe yours will be the last salute the dead will receive on earth."

No sooner was the funeral passed than there came a straw and charcoal merchant, crying, "Paja! Carbon! Cabrito!" So many people in Granada have no way to warm themselves except by the brazero, in which charcoal is burnt, that there is great need for the charcoal man, and he drives a brisk trade.

Next they saw a priest on a sick call, for he bore the Blessed Sacrament. A crowd of ragged urchins stopped in their play to kneel as he passed, and Fernando and his father raised their hats.

By this time, the carriage had reached the outskirts of the city, and the road wound along the banks of the Darro, a rushing stream which gushes out of a deep mountain gorge, and passes through the town. Its banks are lined with quaint old houses, leaning far over the river, and Fernando saw women there, washing their linen in the water, and spreading their clothes on the stones to dry.

Outside of the town their way lay along the beautiful Vega, which stretches beyond Granada, in green and fertile loveliness, to the far-away hills. Crossed by two rivers, the Darro and Genil, the plain is dotted with whitewashed villas, nestling like birds in the soft green of the olive and orange trees. Sloping gradually to the mountains above, the Vega is green as emerald, and truly a fair sight beneath the turquoise sky, and the mother-of-pearl of the snowy mountains.

Fernando's father owned large estates upon the hillsides, and raised oranges and grapes. The last were used for raisins, the grapes from which the finest wine is made, the Amontillado, for which Spain is so famous, not reaching their greatest perfection in this part of the land.

In an hour they reached the farm and drove down the long lane which led to the house. The Hacienda of Santa Eulalia was a large, low building, with a broad porch and a tangle of vines and roses climbing over it. Huge trees spread their arms over the roof, and from the balcony one could see groves of cypress-trees, pines, oaks, and poplars, beyond the fruit-trees, and, above all, the rose-coloured peaks of the Sierras. Upon the slope of the hill, as it fell away toward Granada, were the grape-vines, with huge clusters of grapes, purple, white, and red, weighing down the vines. There were, too, terraces where the raisins dried; and nearer the house were the drying-sheds, where an army of packers pressed the raisins under boards, and carefully sorted them before packing. The vineyards were beautiful, but even more so were the orange groves, and one who has seen a grove in full fruit never forgets the beautiful sight. The trees are deep green in colour, and full of leaves, many of them bearing at the same time flowers and green and ripe fruit.

The children were wild with delight, and ran about eager to see the picking and sorting of the fine fruit, for the oranges of Santa Eulalia were famous for size and quality. The trees grew rather low to the ground, and were covered with fruit which the pickers were gathering. Ladders were put up to the lower branches, and each picker carried a basket swung to his neck by a cord. He carefully picked the oranges, one at a time, and dropped them in his basket, and so expert were many of them that it seemed as if they had scarcely mounted the ladder before the basket was full. Many young girls were employed as pickers, and they were particularly skilful, vying with the men in their swiftness. Very gay were their voices, and merry jest and song enlivened the work, until it seemed as if it were not work but play. Fernando and Juanita hopped about like little rabbits, eating the fruit which rolled to the ground, for often the golden globes fell from the trees, as they were shaken by the picking.

When the baskets were filled, the oranges were carried to the sheds and left overnight to harden the skins a little, when each orange was wrapped in soft tissue-paper. For this are employed young boys and girls, and very expert they grow in the wrapping of the oranges, each one being properly wrapped with but a twist of the hand. The next thing is the packing, and the oranges are stored away in wooden boxes, and are ready to be shipped to market.

The children ate so many oranges that they scarcely wanted any of the luncheon prepared for them at the hacienda. There was an omelet with green peppers, a delicious salad, some fowl, and tiny round potato balls, all sprinkled over with chopped parsley, with a huge dish of oranges and grapes for dessert.

The señora insisted upon a little siesta after luncheon, but Fernando's eyes were so wide open that he could not close them as he swung to and fro in the great hammock between two orange-trees in front of the house. He was delighted when his father sat down beside him, in one of the big easy chairs, and said:

"You look to me like a boy who would like to hear a story."

"Indeed I would; please tell me one," said Fernando.

"Have you ever heard about the judges of Pedro the Cruel?"

"No, papa," said Fernando, all interest.

"A long time ago, there ruled over Andalusia a king named Pedro, and he was so disliked by his subjects, and did so many wicked things, that he was called Pedro the Cruel. He lived in the city of Sevilla, and though he was cruel, and often heartless, still he had a strong sense of justice, which would not allow the common people to be badly treated. He found out one day that four of his judges had been cheating the people and taking bribes, and he determined to teach them a lesson. He went to his favourite gardens, those of the Alcazar, and sent for the judges to come to him there. It is a wonderful place even to-day, and then it must have been very beautiful. Huge banana-trees waved their rough green leaves above the tangled beauty of the flower-beds, where jasmine and violets and roses grew in profusion. In the midst was a fountain, and Don Pedro knelt beside it, smiling wickedly as he placed upon the perfumed waters, five oranges cut in halves, and placed flat-side down. The reflection was so perfect that any one would be deceived, and think they were whole oranges floating upon the water.

"'How many oranges are there here?' asked the king, smiling genially, and the judges replied:

"'Ten, may it please your Gracious Majesty.'

"'Nay, but it does not please my Gracious Majesty to have four fools for judges,' he said. 'Liars! Can you not see that there are but five?' and he raised two of the halves and held them together. 'Know, oh, unjust judges,' he said, sternly, 'that the king's servants must see more than the surface of things if they are to conduct that portion of the realm which it is their business to attend to, and since you cannot tell a half from a whole, perchance that is the reason of the tales I hear of your ill-dealings with the property of some of my subjects!'

"He ordered them to be beheaded and their places filled with better men, and the poor people whom they had defrauded had their property restored to them. There are many other stories of King Pedro which are not pleasant to tell, and it is good to remember that he sometimes did kind things."

"Thank you," said Fernando. "What is the Alcazar where the gardens were?"

"It is a very remarkable place, and when you go to Sevilla you will see it. At first, hundreds of years ago, when the Romans were in Spain, it was the house of Cæsar; afterward the Moors turned it into a fortress, and it is a perfect example of Moorish work. Don Pedro rebuilt it, and spent a great deal of money upon it, making it the most beautiful palace in all Spain. All manner of things happened there, among them the murder of Don Pedro's half-brother, Don Fadrique, who he was afraid would lay claim to the throne.

"But here come your mother and Juanita, and I think your rest time is about over. Go and play, and tell Manuel we return at four o'clock, so you must be on time."

So Fernando spent a delightful afternoon in the orange grove, and drove home through the cool twilight, passing the paseo just as the band was playing the Marche Real, the national song, which he hummed until he went to bed.

CHAPTER IV.
AT THE ALHAMBRA

"Mi madre," cried Fernando, rushing into the house one day in October, "to-day is the feast-day of the head master, and we have a holiday. May I have permission to go to the hill to see Antonio?"

"Not by yourself, my son," replied his mother, and Fernando said, hastily, "Oh, no, madre mia, Manuel says that he will take me if you will permit me, and, if Juanita's nurse could be spared, we could take the niña, as she has never been there, and that would give her pleasure."

"Let me see," his mother paused a moment, "the day is fine. This morning I am busy, but after luncheon I will drive thither with the little one, and leave you for an hour while I go on to the villa of the Señora Sanchez; but you must be a good boy, and mind Manuel."

"Yes, mother, and you will see Antonio, whom I like best of all the boys at school," said Fernando, and he hastened away to make ready for the great treat. A drive with his mother in school hours was a pleasure seldom indulged in, and a visit to the great hill which crowns Granada was treat enough, but to take Juanita, – these were things so pleasant that he said to himself, "I think my guardian angel must have whispered in my mother's ear to give me all this pleasure."

It was about two o'clock as they drove through the narrow streets of the city up the steep and hilly way which led to the outskirts of the town.

"You are going to see the nicest boy in Granada, and the most wonderful castle in Spain, niña," said Fernando to Juanita, and the two children chattered merrily as the carriage went slowly up the hill.

"Here is a riddle I heard at school, niña, see if you can guess it, —

 
"'Guarded in a prison strait,
Ivory gaolers round her wait,
Venomous snake of sanguine hue,
Mother of all the lies that brew!'"
 

"I do not know," said his little sister, wonderingly. She thought all that Fernando said and did was perfection. "What is it, Nando?"

"Why, the tongue, of course," he said, pleased to have given a riddle which she could not guess; and his mother said:

"That is a very good riddle, and I hope you will remember it, for it is the tongue which makes much mischief in this world. Remember that 'a stone and a word flung do not return.'"

"There is Mazo following us," said Juanita, and her mother said, laughingly, "Really, Fernando, I don't see why you like that dog so much! He is uglier than Picio."²

"He isn't handsome, but you have told me that handsome is as handsome does!" said her son, and his mother laughed again.

"Oh, what is that?" cried Juanita, as the carriage made a turn, and some splendid great towers came into view.

"That is the Alhambra," said Fernando. "It is the most wonderful castle in Spain. Manuel said it was begun in 1238, in the reign of the Moorish king, Ibn-l-Ahmar, and it was years and years in building. He says the Moors used to have the castle and the city of Granada, and I read in my history of how the Catholic king, Ferdinand, came here to conquer it. He fought and fought, but the Moors wouldn't give it up. I think they were a brave people, if they were beaten, don't you?"

"Yes, my son, they were very brave, but they did such cruel things to the captives they took, that it is not surprising that the Spaniards wanted to conquer them," said his mother.

"They captured Christian girls, and forced them to become their wives, though what they wanted with them I cannot see, for they already had many wives, and I should think one was enough for any man. Where shall we find your friend, Fernando? If you wish I will leave you with him for an hour, and continue my drive."

"Oh, thank you, mother, I knew you would let me stay!" cried Fernando; and Juanita said, "Please leave me, too, mother, that I may see Antonio and the great palace."

"Antonio lives within the palace, mamma," said Fernando. "He was born there, and he and his sister, Pepita, have never been away. He is to go to the English school at Gibraltar, but not until he is bigger. May we ask some one where he is?"

"Certainly. He must be a nice boy to have lived always in such a place, and to have you so devoted to him. There is a guard; ask him where the apartments of the boy's father are," she said to Manuel, who sat upon the box with the coachman. Further inquiry, however, was not necessary, for, as the carriage made its way up the broad drive shaded with magnificent elm-trees, which the Duke of Wellington planted, a boy came bounding toward them.

"There he is," cried Fernando. "Antonio, come here, we have come to see you."

The carriage stopped, and Fernando hopped out as lightly as a squirrel, giving Antonio a good hug, for Spanish boys are never ashamed of showing that they like their friends. Antonio's cap was off in a trice and he smiled and bowed as Fernando presented him to his mother and little sister. Antonio was a handsome boy, with eyes as dark and blue as the sapphire of the Spanish skies, and fair hair tossed back from an open brow. All Spaniards are not dark, and, in Andalusia, the province in which Granada lies, there are many blonds.

"I will leave Fernando and Juanita with you for a visit," said the señora, graciously. "Will you bring them here in an hour?"

"Si, señora," said Antonio. "But if you would so honour us, the señora, my mother has prepared a little luncheon in the Garden of Lindaraya at four o'clock, and she would be most happy if you would partake of it with us."

"Thank you, then I shall allow the children to remain with you until that time and I shall myself prolong my visit with my friends at the villa," she replied. "When I return I shall do myself the pleasure of meeting your mother."

So she drove off, and the children tripped happily away, followed closely by Manuel and Dolores, for Spanish little ones of good family are never allowed to go about alone. However, one must relax a little sometimes, and the two attendants saw a pleasant hour before them as they sat idly about while the children played in the wonderful gardens of the palace. Pepita, Antonio's sister, was but a year older than Juanita, and the two little girls were quite happy together, and the boys did not consider themselves too big to play with them. They played hide and seek through the marble halls, and tag and chaser about the flower beds. The little girls played house and made mud pies, although Dolores objected to this and told Juanita that she would be as dirty as the "caseada de Burguillos"³ if she were not more careful. Juanita thought Pepita was wonderful because she had been born in a palace, and her father was custodian of the wonderful place, but it was Antonio who claimed her greatest admiration. He was even more marvellous than Fernando, she almost thought, because he was bigger, and his eyes had such a kind and merry look, and he always carried her over the rough places in his strong young arms, and lifted her over the walls as they strolled through the gardens.

She had never seen such gardens as these of the Alhambra. They were full of the most beautiful flowers, and there was the most delicious scent in the air.

Antonio told her it was from the wallflowers, which grew here in great profusion, and were twice as large as they were in other places. But besides them there were great trees of purple heliotrope, the blooms as large around as Juanita's big hat; and geranium-trees, taller than a man, with orange-trees in bloom, late though it was, and with the ripe fruit upon their branches also.

Then the children had a charming luncheon on the grass, for Antonio's mother set forth for them all manner of good things, – a dainty salad with some cold meat, thick chocolate in tiny cups, and cakes in the daintiest of shapes. What a merry picnic it was beneath the shade of the great orange-tree which Antonio told them had been there for over a hundred years, and from which the great American, Washington Irving, had picked fruit when he lived at the Alhambra! Then when the party was over, and his mother had not come, Fernando said: