id not look at these carvings of walnut or oak, with troops
of horsemen and companies of soldiers scaling the walls of Moorish
towns. What interested him most were the arms of the stalls, the
handrails of the steps leading to the upper seats, and the salients
dividing the stalls which served to rest the head, all covered with
animals, grotesque beings, dogs, monkeys, big birds, friars, and
little birds, all in difficult postures, some beautiful, some obscene.
Hogs and frogs wound themselves up together in inextricable tangles,
monkeys with ignoble gestures were mixed up with interlaced birds in
never ending variety--it was a world of caricatures of voluptuousness,
of monkey-like actions and satirical suggestions, in which appeared
carnal passion with the most grotesque animal grimaces.

"Look here, uncle. Is not this capital--it is far the best."

And the Tato showed Gabriel the little chubby figure of a preaching
friar with enormous donkey's ears.

When they came out of the choir Gabriel spied the Chapel-master close
to the fresco of Saint Christopher. He had just emerged from a little
door close to the giant, which led by a circular staircase to the
musical archives. He was carrying under his arm a big book with dusty
pages which he showed to Gabriel.

"I am taking it upstairs. You shall hear something out of it; it is
worth the trouble."

And turning his eyes from the book to the little door close by he
exclaimed:

"Ay! these archives, Gabriel, how it pains one! Each time I visit them
I come out sadder. The vandals have been at work there; nearly all the
music books have pages torn out, pieces cut out wherever there was an
illuminated letter, a vignette or anything pretty. The senor canons
do not care for music, neither do they understand it, and they are
incapable of devoting a few pesetas so that it might be heard on
festival days. It is quite enough for them to walk in procession to
some piece of Rossini's; and as far as regards the organ, all they
care about is that it must play slowly, very slowly. The slower it
plays, the more religious they think it, even though the organist may
be playing a Habanera."

He continued looking at the little door with melancholy eyes as though
he were ready to weep over the decay of music.

"In there, Gabriel, are many beautiful works, that ought not to be
forgotten as long as art lives in the world. In profane music we have
not been great, but believe me that Spain has