ushes and soap. It is possible
that one could allay the pangs of hunger with soap; but under no
imaginable circumstances with hair-brushes.

It was a tower in the distance, but it seemed to grow neither nearer nor
larger; the wind blew without pity, and miserably Aguador tramped on. I
no longer felt very hungry, but dreadfully bored. In that waste of
greenery the only living things beside myself were a troop of swallows
that had accompanied me for miles. They flew close to the ground, in
front of me, circling round; and the wind was so high that they could
scarcely advance against it.

I remembered the skinner's question, why I rode through the country when
I could go by train. I thought of the _Cheshire Cheese_ in Fleet Street,
where persons more fortunate than I had that day eaten hearty luncheons.
I imagined to myself a well-grilled steak with boiled potatoes, and a
pint of old ale, Stilton! The smoke rose to my nostrils.

But at last, the Saints be praised! I found a real bridle-path, signs of
civilisation, ploughed fields; and I came in sight of Marchena perched
on a hill-top, surrounded by its walls. When I arrived the sun was
setting finely behind the town.

XXXI

[Sidenote: Two Villages]

Marchena was all white, and on the cold windy evening I spent there,
deserted of inhabitants. Quite rarely a man sidled past wrapped to the
eyes in his cloak, or a woman with a black shawl over her head. I saw in
the town nothing characteristic but the wicker-work frame in front of
each window, so that people within could not possibly be seen; it was
evidently a Moorish survival. At night men came into the eating-room of
the inn, ate their dinner silently, and muffling themselves, quickly
went out; the cold seemed to have killed all life in them. I slept in a
little windowless cellar, on a straw bed which was somewhat verminous.

But next morning, as I looked back, the view of Marchena was charming.
It stood on the crest of a green hill, surrounded by old battlements,
and the sun shone down upon it. The wind had fallen, and in the early
hour the air was pleasant and balmy. There was no road whatever, not
even a bridle-track this time, and I made straight for Seville. I
proposed to rest my horse and lunch at Mairena. On one side was a great
plain of young corn stretching to the horizon, and on the other, with
the same mantle of green, little hills, round which I slowly wound. The
sun gave all manner of varied tin