We departed. The little episode was over. But it would be ever associated in our mind with Lerida, enshrouding the town in a peculiarly sacred atmosphere.
CHAPTER XXII.
A SAD HISTORY.
Broad plains of Aragon—Wonderful tones—Approaching Zaragoza—Celestial vision—Distance lends enchantment—Commonplace people—The ancient modernised—Disillusion followed by delight—Almost a small Paris—Cafés and their merits—Not socially attractive—Friendly equality—Mixture of classes—Inheritance of the past—Interesting streets—Arcades and gables—Lively scenes—People in costume—Picture of Old Spain—Ancient palaces—One especially romantic—The world well lost—Fair Lucia—Where love might reign for ever—Paradise not for this world—Doomed—The last dawn—Inconsolable—Seeking death—Found on the battlefield—A day vision—Few rivals—In the new cathedral—Startling episode—Asking alms—Young and fair—Uncomfortable moment—Terrible story—Fatal chains—"And after?"—How minister to a mind diseased?—Sunshine clouded—Burden of life—Any way of escape?—Suggestions of past centuries—The mighty fallen.
THE sun was still high in the heavens when our train steamed out of the station towards Zaragoza and the ancient kingdom of Aragon. Much of the journey lay through broad plains that had no specially redeeming feature about them. Even fertility seemed denied, for they were often destitute of trees and vegetation. Yet were they sometimes covered with a lovely heather possessing a wonderful tone and beauty of its own.
Most to be remembered in the journey was the sunset. Towards evening as we approached Zaragoza, the sun dipped across the vast plains and went down in a blood-red ball. Immediately the sky was flushed with the most gorgeous colours, which melted into an after-glow that remained far into the night.
In the midst of this splendid effect of sky we saw across the plains the wonderful towers and turrets and domes of Zaragoza rising like a celestial vision. As we neared, we thought it a dream-city: not perched on a gigantic rock like Segovia, but on a gentle height of some 500 feet above the sea-level.
The approach to the town is very striking. There is an abundant promise of good things, not, we are bound to confess, eventually carried out. Apparently, it is of all cities the most picturesque, with its splendid river running rapidly through the plain, spanned by its world-famed bridge, above which rise the beautiful, refined, eastern-looking outlines; but once inside the town the charm in part disappears. It is to be worshipped at a distance.
Our first impression told us this, as we rumbled through the streets in the old omnibus and marked their modern aspect, the busy, common-place bearing of the people.
We had expected a great deal of Zaragoza; hoped to find a city of great antiquity, with nothing but gabled houses and ancient outlines worthy the fair capital of the fair kingdom of Aragon. These we found the exception. Its antiquity is undoubted, but too much of the town has been modernised and rebuilt. Still, the exceptions are so striking that when one's first disillusion is over, it is followed by something very like delight and amazement.
The hotel was a large rambling building which might have existed for centuries; and as comfortable as most of the Spanish provincial inns. A perfect maze of passages; and when the hotel guide piloted us to a far-off room to see a collection of antiquities of very modest merit we felt it might have taken hours to get back alone to our starting point.