Before us the crumbling walls and turrets of the
Gothic kings ran down from the bluff to the water-side, its terrace
overlooking the baths where, for his woe, Don Roderick saw Count
Julian's daughter under the same inflammatory circumstances as those in
which, from a Judaean housetop, Don David beheld Captain Uriah's wife.
There is a great deal of human nature abroad in the world in all ages.
Little Francisca kept on chattering. "That is St. Martin's bridge. A
girl jumped into the water last year. She was not a lady. She was in
service. She was tired of living because she was in love. They found her
three weeks afterwards; but, Santisima Maria! she was good for nothing
then."
Our little maid was too young to have sympathy for kings or servant
girls who die for love. She was a pretty picture as she sat there, her
blue eyes and Madonna face turned to the rosy west, singing in her sweet
child's voice her fierce little song of sedition and war: -
"Arriba los valientes!
Abajo tirania!
Pronto llegara el dia
De la Restauracion.
Carlistas a caballo!
Soldados en Campana!
Viva el Rey de Espana,
Don Carlos de Borbon!"
I cannot enumerate the churches of Toledo, - you find them in every
street and by-way.
