Carnival began the Sunday before Ash Wednesday. The chief feature was a parade of cars, or floats, competing for prizes offered by the municipality. The parade took place in the splendid avenue that, under various names, runs through the new quarter of Madrid from north to south.
Lucia, Patsy and I started from the Tower of Babel soon after three o’clock. We had not driven far, when we caught sight of Villegas in the crowd at the corner.
“I knew he was dying to come with us all the time,” murmured Patsy; “in spite of what he said.”
“Angoscia disappointed me; they are all mad;” sighed Villegas, as he climbed into the carriage.
“That is well,” said Lucia. “Thou hadst need of a holiday; thou hast not taken a day of repose this year.”
“Though the premium is offered for the best car, the best car will not get the premium, thou wilt see.” Jaime called to Villegas from his cab, following at a foot-pace, along the Castellana.
“Se sabé!” Villegas agreed. The “best car” came creaking towards us, a vast float drawn by four gray oxen with gilded horns and gold-embroidered head-dresses. Two Catalan peasants
DETAIL FROM “MOSES.” Murillo