cathedral bells, now announced that the procession had left the palace,
and was approaching. Soon after, the sumptuous cavalcade came in sight,
slowly moving forwards. A magnificent banner was borne at the head of
the procession, displaying the cross of Santiago, patron of Spain,
gorgeously embroidered thereon, and followed by the knights of that
noble military order, in their grand ceremonial costumes. After them,
came those of the order of Calatrava, with their brave and renowned
maestre at their head. A long train of noblemen and knights, all
martially equipped, and mounted on beautiful steeds, succeeded, bearing
amongst them the spoils taken in the late conflicts. Isabella herself at
last appeared, seated on a superb milk-white charger, with the ease and
elegance of a perfect equestrian. She was immediately attended by the
Count de Tendilla, governor of the city, and the Archbishop of Toledo
and that of Granada, who were to officiate at the cathedral. The
splendor of the cavalcade was diversified by ranks of friars and monks
of various orders, who moved in regular order, mingling the sounds of
solemn anthems to the notes of clarions and other warlike instruments.
Then the incense rose to the sky, flinging around a grateful odour,
whilst the din and confusion of the overwhelming throng that closed the
march, evinced the interest which the scene excited in the minds of the
people.

Theodora gazed after the procession until it gradually diminished in the
distance, and the clamorous noise was gradually subdued into a tranquil
and pleasing murmur. The pageant moved forward to the cathedral, where a
grand _Te Deum_ was sung, and a thousand voices united in heartfelt
gratitude to that awful power which had been so propitious to the
Christian people.

Theodora now retired from the casement, and abandoned herself to her
former thoughts. The sumptuous display she had just witnessed forcibly
recalled her mind to the subject of its constant meditations. Alas!
amongst the host of gallant knights that composed the scene, the best
and bravest was not there; and the image of her murdered lover, arrayed
in terror, rose sadly before the imagination of Theodora. Her
attendants, ignorant of the nature of her sorrows, but in the true
spirit of female compassion, endeavoured to divert her thoughts to more
pleasing channels. The mind may be better weaned from scenes of past
distress, by interesting the curiosity, than by a consolation