“God great and omnipotent!
“A place consecrated by the piety of the Austrian dynasty to the mortal remains of the Catholic kings, who are looking for that day of their desire, under the great altar sacred to the Redeemer of the human race. Charles V., the most illustrious of the Cæsars, desired this for the last resting-place of himself and his lineage; Philip II., the most prudent of kings, planned it; Philip III., a monarch of sincere piety, made a beginning of the work; Philip IV., great in his clemency, constancy, and devotion, enlarged, adorned, and brought it to completion in the year of our Lord 1654.”
The guide entered: I followed him and found myself surrounded by sepulchres, or rather in a sepulchre, as dark and cold as a grotto in a mountain-side. It is a little octagonal chamber built entirely of marble, with a small altar on the side opposite the door, and in the remaining space from floor to ceiling, one above the other, tombs adorned with bronze ornaments and bas-reliefs; the ceiling is under the great altar in the church. To the right of the altar are the tombs of Charles V., Philip II., Philip III., Philip IV., Louis I., the three Don Carlos, and Ferdinand VII.; on the left, the empresses and queens. The guide placed his torch near the tomb of Maria Louisa of Savoy, the spouse of Charles III., and said to me with an air of mystery, “Read.” The marble is ruled in different directions; with a little study I was able to distinguish five letters; they form the name Luisa, written by the queen herself with the point of her scissors.
Suddenly the guide extinguished his torch and we were left in the dark; the blood froze in my veins. “Light it!” I cried. The guide laughed a long, ghostly laugh, which seemed to me like a death-rattle, and replied, “Look!” I looked: a faint ray of light, entering through a chink near the ceiling, stole along the wall almost to the pavement, shedding light
