“He couldn’t.”
From the door, and through a corridor, they came out upon a broad, tiled terrace with an iron railing.
“Let’s go up higher,” said Remedios.
They climbed a winding staircase inside a tower until they came out upon a small azotea, whence they could command a view of nearly the entire city.
The wind was blowing strongly. From that height, they could see Cordova, a great pile of grey roofs and white walls, between which they could make out the alleys, which looked like crooked lines inundated with light. Sierra Morena appeared in the background like a dark wave, and its round peaks were outlined in a gentle undulation against the sky, which was cloudless. The gardens stood out very white against the skirts of the mountain, and upon a sharp-pointed hill at the foot of the dark mountain wall, stood a rocky castle.
Toward Cordova la Vieja, pastures glistened, a luminous green; in the country, the sown ground stretched out until it was lost in the distance, interrupted here and there by some brown little hill covered with olive trees.
“I’m going to fetch the telescope,” announced Remedios suddenly.
“Don’t fall,” warned her sister.
“Ca!”
Rafaela and Quentin were left alone.