he dustily red roofs lay
beneath in the sunshine, spire and roof-garden, pigeon-house and terrace
walk. Parts of the white palace of La Granja also were to be seen, but
indistinctly, since it lay amid a pleasant distraction of greenery, and
the woods waved and the falling waters glimmered about it like the
landscape of a dream.

From the _Colegiata_ came the tolling of a bell, slow and irregular. All
else was silent. Presently, with her little flock before her, La Giralda
found herself skirting the high-paled ironwork which confines the
palace. She pursued her way towards the town, taking care, however, to
look sharply about her so that she might miss nothing.

The palace grounds seemed utterly deserted. The fountains slept; "Fame"
drove no longer her waters fifty yards into the air; the Frogs rested
from their ungrateful labours open-mouthed and gasping for breath. Not
even a gardener was to be seen scratching weeds on a path, or in the
dimmest distance passing at random across one of the deep-shaded
avenues. An unholy quiet seemed to have settled upon the place, the
marvel of Castile, the most elevated of earthly palaces, broken only by
the sombre tolling of the chapel bell, which would cease for five
minutes without apparent reason, and then, equally without cause, begin
all over again its lugubrious chime.

Down the zigzags towards the town went La Giralda, the goats taking
advantage of the wider paths to stray further afield, and needing more
frequently the touch of the wand, which the old woman had taken from the
donkey's load in order to induce them to proceed.

As the gipsy passed along, a small shrill voice called upon her to stop,
and from a side walk, concealed by roses and oleander bushes, late
flowering because of the great elevation, a richly-dressed little girl
came running. She ran at the top of her speed towards the gilt railings
which towered high above her head. Her age appeared to be about that of
the little girl whom La Giralda had buried among the pottery shards in
that other meaner garden up on the mountain side.

"Stop," she cried imperiously, "I bid you stop! I am the Queen, and you
must obey me. I have not seen any one for five days except stupid old
Susana, who will be after me in a moment. Stop, I tell you! I want to
see your goats milked. I love milk, and they will not give me enough,
pretending that there is none within the palace. As if a Queen of Spain
could not have all the milk she