"The student held up his tattered cloak in reply.

"'I understand thee. If thou hast faith and courage, follow me, and
thy fortune is made.'

"'Softly, comrade, to follow thee would require small courage in
one who has nothing to lose but life and an old guitar, neither of
much value; but my faith is of a different matter, and not to be
put in temptation. If it be any criminal act by which I am to mend
my fortune, think not my ragged cloak will make me undertake it.'

"The soldier turned on him a look of high displeasure. 'My sword,'
said he, 'has never been drawn but in the cause of the faith and
the throne. I am a _Cristiano viejo_; trust in me and fear no
evil.'

"The student followed him wondering. He observed that no one heeded
their conversation, and that the soldier made his way through the
various groups of idlers unnoticed, as if invisible.

"Crossing the bridge, the soldier led the way by a narrow and steep
path past a Moorish mill and aqueduct, and up the ravine which
separates the domains of the Generalife from those of the Alhambra.
The last ray of the sun shone upon the red battlements of the
latter, which beetled far above; and the convent-bells were
proclaiming the festival of the ensuing day. The ravine was
overshadowed by fig-trees, vines, and myrtles, and the outer towers
and walls of the fortress. It was dark and lonely, and the
twilight-loving bats began to flit about. At length the soldier
halted at a remote and ruined tower apparently intended to guard a
Moorish aqueduct. He struck the foundation with the butt-end of his
spear. A rumbling sound was heard, and the solid stones yawned
apart, leaving an opening as wide as a door.

"'Enter in the name of the Holy Trinity', said the soldier, 'and
fear nothing.' The student's heart quaked, but he made the sign of
the cross, muttered his Ave Maria, and followed his mysterious
guide into a deep vault cut out of the solid rock under the tower,
and covered with Arabic inscriptions. The soldier pointed to a
stone seat hewn along one side of the vault. 'Behold,' said he, 'my
couch for three hundred years.' The bewildered student tried to
force a joke. 'By the blessed St. Anthony,' said he, 'but you must
have slept soundly, considering the hardness of your couch.'