orgeous trailing robe of
gold-embroidered velvet, her under gown of satin scintillating with
diamonds, her blazing crown of jewels, the sparkling rings on her delicate
fingers, her necklaces, her bracelets, were such as the Mother of Christ
never dreamed of in her simple life; and half the watchers knew grinding
poverty, which a few of her gems might relieve.

That thought, I knew, would leap to many minds; but they would be the
minds of foreigners; and I, being Spanish, understood. I saw what this
procession of emblems meant to these people, rich and poor alike. They
were being reminded, in the realistic and dramatic way which appealed best
to their imaginations, of all Christ had suffered for them, of all the
mother-woman had endured. The gems, which to alien minds were incongruous,
crystallized their tears, their love, their gratitude; and Our Lady's
jewels were the jewels of the poor--rich possessions which could not be
taken from them, joys for ever, objects of their highest pride.

Bending in gentle grief, the fair face bowed, the graceful figure passed
in fragrance of lilies, perfumed wax, and incense sending blue clouds from
silver censors swung by white-robed boys. With her, as she moved, went
music--our Lady's own music, sad and beautiful as moonlight on a lonely
grave, cool as peace after hot pain.

Now the box in the tribune I had watched so long was filled with
strangers. Pilar had been right. Carmona had given his place to friends.
But with that soft, haunting music in my ears, sweet as remembered days of
joy, I could not fear anything. Somehow I was at peace, with good thoughts
in my mind and hope in my heart.

Brotherhoods in black, brotherhoods in purple, and _paso_ after _paso_
went by; Christus bending under the weight of the cross, Christus praying
among sleeping disciples in Gethsemane, Our Lady of the Rosary, Our Lady
of Tears, flaming rivers of light, suns rising out of purple clouds.

Night folded over the great square, with its crowd of people. No one had
gone away. Electric lights burst out and made the scene like the
auditorium of some vast theatre; but the stage and auditorium were one.
Then the full moon, yellow as honey, looked over the thronged roof-gardens
of tall houses opposite the tribune, and sailed high in heaven.

It was past nine o'clock when Colonel O'Donnel touched me on the shoulder.

"We saw you long ago," he said. "You are so tall. Shall we go home to
dinner? But on Thur