to desert their caves. Ferdinand and Isabel had granted the house
to a rich Moorish noble who had fore-sworn his religion to help them in
their wars, and who became the first Duque de Carmona, owner of many
estates and many palaces.

My landlord had not been misinformed. The fine entrance, with its
fifteenth century Spanish coat of arms over the Moorish portal, was kept
by two civil guards. I walked up, and with the air of a tourist, inquired
how soon the palace would be open to visitors. The men could not tell me.
Was the Duke ill? They believed so. And as I could get nothing further
from them I walked away.

Above, on the hill, clustered the red towers of the Alhambra. I fancied
that in those towers there must be windows which overlooked the _patio_ of
Boabdil's old palace, and I resolved to prove this presently, but I was
not yet ready to leave the Albaicin.

I had brought down my Kodak as an excuse for lingering, and now I began,
within sight of Carmona's doors, to take leisurely snapshots. When I had
been thus engaged for nearly half an hour, I saw a young woman, evidently
a servant, leaving the palace with a small bundle under her arm; and
without appearing to notice her, I strolled in the direction she was
taking. Once beyond eyeshot of the civil guards, I spoke to the girl,
taking off my hat politely.

"You are from the Duke of Carmona's?" I said. "I am an acquaintance of
his, and intended to call, but I hear he is seeing no one."

"That is true, senor," replied the girl, a handsome creature of the gypsy
type, with bold eyes which took in every detail of my features and
clothing. "His Grace arrived very fatigued and is obliged to lie in bed;
which is inconvenient, as there are foreign guests who must be so
constantly entertained by Her Grace the Duchess, that she has no time to
nurse her son."

"I trust he has a clever doctor," said I.

"Oh, a very clever one," the girl answered eagerly. "Not an ordinary
physician, but a wonderful person. My brother knows him well, and goes
into the Sierra to find herbs and flowers for his medicines and balsams."

Evidently the girl was proud of the acquaintance, and I humoured her.

"Such remedies are good in cases of fever and malaria," I said.

"And for many other things," she persisted. "His Grace has contracted some
poisoning of the hand. I do not know how; but he is better already, and
will no doubt soon be well. If the senor would care to send a line of
sympath