Happily The Portal Was In The Keeping Of One Of Those Authorized Beggars
Who Guard The Gates Of Heaven Everywhere In That Kind Country, And He
Welcomed Us So Eagerly From The Wet That I Could Not Do Less Than Give
Him A Big Dog At Once.
In a moment of confusion I turned about, and
taking him for another beggar, I gave him another big
Dog; and when we
came out of the church he had put off his cap and arranged so complete a
disguise with the red handkerchief bravely tied round his head, that my
innocence was again abused, and once more a big dog passed between us.
But if the merit of the church might only be partially attributed to
him, he was worth the whole three. The merit of the church was
incalculable, for it was meant to be the sepulcher of the Catholic
Kings, who were eventually more fitly buried in the cathedral at
Granada, in the heart of their great conquest; and it is a most
beautiful church, of a mingled Saracenic plateresque Gothic, as the
guide-books remind me, and extravagantly baroque as I myself found it. I
personally recall also a sense of chill obscurity and of an airy gallery
wandering far aloof in the upper gloom, which remains overhead with me
still, and the yet fainter sense of the balconies crowning like capitals
the two pillars fronting the high altar. I am now sorry for our haste,
but one has not so much time for enjoying such churches in their
presence as for regretting them in their absence.
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