in the Alhambra. The turbulent multitude continued roaming and
shouting and howling about the city during the day and a part of the
night. Hunger and a wintry tempest tamed their frenzy; and when morning
came the enthusiast who had led them on had disappeared. Whether he had
been disposed of by the emissaries of the King or by the leading men of
the city is not known; his disappearance remains a mystery.

The Moorish King now issued from the Alhambra, attended by his principal
nobles, and harangued the populace. He set forth the necessity of
complying with the capitulation, from the famine that reigned in the
city, the futility of defence, and from the hostages having already been
delivered into the hands of the besiegers. The volatile population agreed
to adhere to the capitulation, and there was even a faint shout of "Long
live Boabdil the unfortunate!" and they all returned to their homes in
perfect tranquillity.

Boabdil immediately sent missives to King Ferdinand, apprising him of
these events, and of his fears lest further delay should produce new
tumults. He proposed, therefore, to surrender the city on the following
day. The Castilian sovereigns assented, with great satisfaction; and
preparations were made in city and camp for this great event, that was to
seal the fate of Granada.

It was a night of doleful lamentings within the walls of the Alhambra;
for the household of Boabdil were preparing to take a last farewell of
that delightful abode. All the royal treasures and the most precious
effects of the Alhambra were hastily packed upon mules; the beautiful
apartments were despoiled, with tears and wailings, by their own
inhabitants. Before the dawn of day a mournful cavalcade moved obscurely
out of a postern gate of the Alhambra and departed through one of the
most retired quarters of the city. It was composed of the family of the
unfortunate Boabdil, which he sent off thus privately that they might not
be exposed to the eyes of scoffers or the exultation of the enemy. The
city was yet buried in sleep as they passed through its silent streets.
The guards at the gate shed tears as they opened it for their departure.
They paused not, but proceeded along the banks of the Xenel on the road
that leads to the Alpujarras, until they arrived at a hamlet at some
distance from the city, where they halted and waited until they should be
joined by King Boabdil.

The sun had scarcely begun to shed his beams upon the su