“No, I won’t do any more, I won’t do any more,” sobbed Remedios, hiding her head on her sister’s shoulder, overcome with shame, and weeping like a Magdalene.
“When the tears are over, she’ll be a little lamb. Will you undertake my mission?” Rafaela asked Quentin.
“If the little box is in Cordova, you may be sure that I shall find it.”
“Good! Adiós. We are going in to get over this,” said Rafaela, smiling ironically.
Rafaela and Remedios went up to their rooms, and Quentin went out into the street.
CHAPTER XII
IN SEARCH OF A JEWEL-CASE
“IN those days,” asserted Don Gil Sabadía in a notable article in El Diario de Cordova, “La Corredera was a large, rectangular plaza surrounded by houses with heavy balconies and porticos supported by thick columns. At that time the plaza had no dirty and ugly brick market-place; nor were the houses as neglected as they are today; nor did so much hedge-mustard grow on the balconies. With a daily open-air market, a plaza used on great occasions for bull-fights and jousts, La Corredera constituted a commercial, industrial, and artistic centre for Cordova. In that spot were celebrated regal fiestas of great renown in our locality; there autos da fé were consummated; there Señor Pedro Romero and Pepe Hillo fought bulls when Charles IV visited the city; there the Tablet of the Constitution was set up in 1823 with great enthusiasm, only to be torn down and dragged about that same year; there the bodies of a few splendid youths were exposed, killed in the hills with their guns in their hands; there also the last executioners of Cordova, the two Juans—Juan García and Juan Montano—both masters of the art of hanging their fellow men, had splendid opportunities to perform the extremely important duties that had been conferred upon them. Lastly, from there, from La Corredera, sprang the rogues of Cordova, relatives of the rascals of Zocodover and Azoguejo, fathers of the scoundrels of Perchel, and of the lancers of Murcía, and remote ancestors of the Madrid golfos.”
And Don Gil, after enumerating the beauties of La Corredera, terminated his article with the following lament: “One more reason we have for thanking our much-boasted-of progress!”
Quentin had been told that nearly all of the pawn shops in Cordova were situated in La Corredera, and the morning after his conversation with Rafaela, he appeared there, resolved to leave no stone unturned until he had discovered the little box which he had been entrusted to find.
He entered La Corredera through the Arco Alto. From this spot, the plaza presented a pleasing and picturesque spectacle. It was like a harbour filled with yellow and white sails shaking in the breeze, shining with light, and filling the whole extent of the plaza. Under the dark and sombre porticos, in the tiny shops and booths, there were little piles of black objects.