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
