dawn, and dazzled our eyes with the glamour of romance. For the
sleeping city was Granada, and the red towers and gardens on the
castled hill were the towers and gardens of the Alhambra. The
adventure was over. And under one of
those roofs, dove-grey in the dawn, I hoped that
Monica was sleeping. XXXVI WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS
In spite of dykes and dams,
said Dick, we had arrived at a place to visit which had once seemed
to him as wonderful as finding the key of
the rainbow.
Yet here we were; and Granada--after we had entered at last by
crossing still another river--came out from under its spell of
enchantment when we saw it at close quarters. Only that wonderful
hill above was magical still, as magical to the eye as when Ibraham
the astrologer decreed its
gardens. More than half the miradored Moorish houses ha