Our Route Lay Between The Coast And An Immense Range Of
Mountains, Which Rose Up Like Huge Ramparts At About A League's
Distance From The Sea.
The ground over which we passed was
tolerably level, and seemingly well cultivated.
There was no lack
of vines and trees, whilst at short intervals rose the cortijos of
the proprietors, - square stone buildings surrounded with an outer
wall. Llanes is an old town, formerly of considerable strength.
In its neighbourhood is the convent of San Cilorio, one of the
largest monastic edifices in all Spain. It is now deserted, and
stands lone and desolate upon one of the peninsulas of the
Cantabrian shore. Leaving Llanes, we soon entered one of the most
dreary and barren regions imaginable, a region of rock and stone,
where neither grass nor trees were to be seen. Night overtook us
in these places. We wandered on, however, until we reached a small
village, termed Santo Colombo. Here we passed the night, in the
house of a carabineer of the revenue, a tall athletic figure who
met us at the gate armed with a gun. He was a Castilian, and with
all that ceremonious formality and grave politeness for which his
countrymen were at one time so celebrated. He chid his wife for
conversing with her handmaid about the concerns of the house before
us. "Barbara," said he, "this is not conversation calculated to
interest the strange cavaliers; hold your peace, or go aside with
the muchacha." In the morning he refused any remuneration for his
hospitality. "I am a caballero," said he, "even as yourselves. It
is not my custom to admit people into my house for the sake of
lucre. I received you because you were benighted and the posada
distant."
Rising early in the morning, we pursued our way through a country
equally stony and dreary as that which we had entered upon the
preceding day. In about four hours we reached San Vincente, a
large dilapidated town, chiefly inhabited by miserable fishermen.
It retains, however, many remarkable relics of former magnificence:
the bridge, which bestrides the broad and deep firth, on which
stands the town, has no less than thirty-two arches, and is built
of grey granite. It is very ancient, and in some part in so
ruinous a condition as to be dangerous.
Leaving San Vincente behind us, we travelled for some leagues on
the sea-shore, crossing occasionally a narrow inlet or firth. The
country at last began to improve, and in the neighbourhood of
Santillana was both beautiful and fertile. About a league before
we reached the country of Gil Blas, we passed through an extensive
wood, in which were rocks and precipices; it was exactly such a
place as that in which the cave of Rolando was situated, as
described in the novel. This wood has an evil name, and our guide
informed us that robberies were occasionally committed in it. No
adventure, however, befell us, and we reached Santillana at about
six in the evening.
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