ot so now."

A deluge of rain put a stop to my sight-seeing until the next morning,
when I set out with Mateo to visit the Royal Chapel. A murder had been
committed in the night, near the entrance of the Zacatin, and the
paving-stones were still red with the blood of the victim. A _funcion_ of
some sort was going on in the Chapel, and we went into the sacristy to
wait. The priests and choristers were there, changing their robes; they
saluted me good-humoredly, though there was an expression in their faces
that plainly said: "a heretic!" When the service was concluded, I went
into the chapel and examined the high altar, with its rude wood-carvings,
representing the surrender of Granada. The portraits of Ferdinand and
Isabella, Cardinal Ximenez, Gonzalvo of Cordova, and King Boabdil, are
very curious. Another tablet represents the baptism of the conquered
Moors.

In the centre of the chapel stand the monuments erected to Ferdinand and
Isabella, and their successors Philip L, and Maria, by Charles V. They are
tall catafalques of white marble, superbly sculptured, with the full
length effigies of the monarchs upon them. The figures are admirable; that
of Isabella, especially, though the features are settled in the repose of
death, expresses all the grand and noble traits which belonged to her
character. The sacristan removed the matting from a part of the floor,
disclosing an iron grating underneath, A damp, mouldly smell, significant
of death and decay, came up through the opening. He lighted two long waxen
tapers, lifted the grating, and I followed him down the narrow steps into
the vault where lie the coffins of the Catholic Sovereigns. They were
brought here from the Alhambra, in 1525. The leaden sarcophagi, containing
the bodies of Ferdinand and Isabella, lie, side by side, on stone slabs;
and as I stood between the two, resting a hand on each, the sacristan
placed the tapers in apertures in the stone, at the head and foot. They
sleep, as they wished, in their beloved Granada, and no profane hand has
ever disturbed the repose of their ashes.

After visiting the Church of San Jeronimo, founded by Gonzalvo of Cordova,
I went to the adjoining Church and Hospital of San Juan de Dios. A fat
priest, washing his hands in the sacristy, sent a boy to show me the
Chapel of San Juan, and the relics. The remains of the Saint rest in a
silver chest, standing in the centre of a richly-adorned chapel. Among the
relics is a thorn fr