When Mass was over we met on the mirador outside, and though by force of nationality, religion, language, and training we ought to have been poles asunder, from almost the first moment of our acquaintance we recognised a congenial spirit in Don Pepe, as the young choristers, who clustered round, affectionately called the padre.
Under his care we re-entered the Cathedral, which, despite, or perhaps because of belonging to no known school of architecture, is very beautiful, the interior with its canopied Virgin having an inspiring sense of light. Then, accompanied by the sacristan, a grave man with a charming smile, we saw some of the treasures of the church, climbed the tower to see the comprehensive view from the top, and visited the adjacent castle, which is now used as a military barracks.
While within the fortifications we were introduced to an especially interesting specimen of the cunning traps prepared by the Romans for their unwary invaders. From one portion of the castle, which is perched high within the strong fortifications, we were guided through a long, dark, shelving passage, down, down, down, until on passing through a massive door we entered an alley, lit from above, that ended abruptly in a four-feet-high portal deep set in the great city wall, and from without partly secured by a bastion.
The ingenious plan of the ancient defenders had evidently been to leave unguarded the inconspicuous door, and when the besiegers, discovering it and imagining themselves in luck, had crept through the secret door into the alley, to shower missiles on them from the circular opening overhead. It was a shrewd device, but one hardly calculated to endear the Romans to their enemies.
Leaving the heights, we walked down towards the church of Santo Domingo, an antique building with curious red-tiled domes. The priceless treasure of this old Dominican convent is an image of Christ which for ages has been the object of great devotion. Until the last century ships on leaving or entering the harbour of Iviza were in the custom of saluting it with their flag and a shot from their cannon.
As we neared the church we saw approaching from a side street a peasant family of such attractively quaint appearance that we paused and, affecting to be admiring the prospect, waited for them to pass. They were all attired in the gala dress of the island. The sun-tanned farmer father wore a suit of old-gold embossed velvet and a purple scarf was wound about his waist. The mother wore the immoderately wide skirt gathered into a plain high-waisted bodice, the short green silk apron, the little shoulder shawl with its prettily flowered border and long fringe, and the gay embroidered head-wrap that make up the distinctive Ivizan costume. From the tip of her pigtail a brightly coloured ribbon hung down to the hem of her spreading skirts. The eldest child, a girl of eight or nine, was a diminutive facsimile of her mother. The elder boy wore a man's suit in miniature of very light blue, and a wide-brimmed yellow hat. The group tapered off with a wee boy in a quaintly cut long frock and a white Carlist cap, and a baby in bunching petticoats and a muslin cap with wings. The father, who smiled pleasantly when he saw us notice the children, carried with evident care a liqueur bottle. Moving decorously, as though bound on some important mission, they preceded us into the church.
We had paused to examine a fine old painting, and when we reached the special chapel that contained the celebrated image we found the little family already kneeling before the altar, even the youngest apparently impressed by the solemnity of the occasion.
After a few moments the father, rising from his knees and still holding the bottle, approached the padre to crave a private word with him, and they quitted the chapel together, leaving the mother and children still on their knees.
A great silver lamp, suspended from the roof, burned in front of the Cristo, and all around the walls were votive offerings—models of hearts, of legs, of arms, even of heads, and little silver figures, some in peasant dress, one in a smart frockcoat. Oddest, perhaps, of all was a pair of silver trousers.