What I Say Is That It Was Nearly Always
Raining, And I Could Not Be Stire.
What I say, above all, is that I am
not a Frenchman of the high Romantic moment and that what I chiefly
noticed was how beautiful the mantilla was whether worn by old or young,
how fit, how gentle, how winning.
I suppose that the women we saw
walking in it were never of the highest class; who would be driving
except when we saw them going to church. But they were often of the
latest fashion, with their feet hobbled by the narrow skirts, of which
they lost the last poignant effect by not having wide or high or slouch
or swashbuckler hats on; they were not top-heavy. What seems certain is
that the Spanish women are short and slight or short and fat. I find it
recorded that when a young English couple came into the Royal Armory the
girl looked impossibly tall and fair.
The women of the lower classes are commonly handsome and carry
themselves finely; their heads are bare, even of mantillas, and their
skirts are ample. When it did not rain they added to the gaiety of the
streets, and when it did to their gloom. Wet or dry the streets were
always thronged; nobody, apparently, stayed indoors who could go out,
and after two days' housing, even with a fire to air and warm our rooms,
we did not wonder at the universal preference. As I have said, the noise
that we heard in the streets was mainly the clatter of shoes and hoofs,
but now and then there were street cries besides those I have noted.
There was in particular a half-grown boy in our street who had a flat
basket decorated with oysters at his feet, and for long hours of the day
and dark he cried them incessantly.
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