confined to these dead towns. In the main street the
shops open; a boy hangs up the dresses, the sandals, the caps, on the
facade, reaching them up with a stick. Droves of mules are seen in front
of the grain-shops; some charcoal-burners go by, selling charcoal; and
peasant women lead, by their halters, little burros loaded with jars and
pans.

One hears all the hawksters' cries, all the clatter characteristic of
that town. The milk-vendor, the honey-vendor, the chestnut-vendor, each
has his own traditional theme. The candlestick-maker produces a sonorous
peal from two copper candlesticks, the scissors-grinder whistles on his
flute....

Then, at midday, hawksters and peasants disappear, the sun shines
hotter, and the afternoon is tiresome and enervating.

FROM THE MIRADERO

Castro Duro is situated on a hill of red earth.

One goes up to the town by a dusty highway, with the remains of little
trees which one Europeanizing mayor planted, and which all died; or else
by zigzag paths, up which saddle-animals and beasts of burden usually
go.

From the plain Castro Duro stands out in silhouette against the sky,
between two high, many-sided edifices, one of a honey yellow, old and
respectable, the church; the other white, overgrown, modern, the prison.

These two pillars of society are conspicuous from all sides, from
whatsoever point on the plain one looks at Castro Duro.

The town was an old important city, and has, from afar, a seigniorial
air; from nearby, on the contrary, it presents that aspect of caked dust
which all the Castilian cities in ruin have; it is wide, spread out,
formed for the most part of lanes and little squares, with low crooked
houses that have blackish, warped roofs.

From the promenade beside the church, which is called the Miradero, one
can see the great valley that surrounds Castro, a plain without an end,
flat and empty. At the foot of the hill that supports the city, a broad
river, which formerly kissed the old walls, marks a huge S with a sand
border.

The water of the river covers the beach in winter, and leaves it half
uncovered in summer. At intervals on the river banks grow little groves
of poplar, which are mirrored on the tranquil surface of the water. A
very long bridge of more than twenty arches crosses from one shore to
the other.

The hill that serves as pedestal for the historic city has very
different aspects; from one side it is seen terraced into steps, formed
of