Antonio and Anitia had visited the cathedral often in the day-time, but they had never been there at night. It seemed like a strange wonderful place when they first caught sight of it beneath the starry sky, in the shadow of the Giralda—that beautiful square tower built by the Moors so many centuries ago. It seemed to them that the Santa Maria and the other bronze bells in the ancient belfry pealed more joyfully than usual.
Within the cathedral it was all more wonderful still. The twinkling lights glimmered on painted frescos and sculptured saints and penetrated the mysterious shadows of the aisles. Thousands of candles blazed on the high altar, scores of priests and acolytes went noiselessly to and fro while, now and then, the tinkle of the golden mass-bells sounded overhead.
Then the celebrated twin organs pealed forth, softly at first, then louder and still louder, answering each other and joining in chorus in the glad paean of the Adeste Fideles, the ancient Christmas hymn of the church. Sad hearts were lightened and sorrow was forgotten, for in that glad and triumphant song the poorest and the richest alike rejoiced.
The great congregation did not seem strange to the children, for they were used to seeing nuns and gypsies, matadors and noble gentlemen, kneel side by side in the vast cathedral. In all the multitude there was no happier heart than Mariquita’s. Although she followed the service devoutly, her eyes were constantly seeking those of the bronzed young soldier who knelt in the shadow of a near-by column, and the folds of her lace mantilla framed a radiant face.
When the service was over, the family party separated at the cathedral door and the children walked home with their parents and Mariquita. It seemed strange to go to bed again for the second time in one evening, but, this time, neither Antonio nor Anitia needed any story-telling to put them to sleep. The whole household was soon quiet, and when the watchman went his rounds a little later not one of them heard his cry,—
“Ave Maria purissima; las dos; y sereno.”
It was late on Christmas morning when they were awakened by the warm sunshine streaming into the uncurtained windows.
There was a slight chill in the air, but the palms and orange trees in the patio were green as summer foliage and the skies were clear and blue. The children thought it was perfect Christmas weather, for, though the distant Sierras were snow-capped, they were not used to the ice and snow in winter which is common in the northern part of their country.