ration that
he had not the remotest idea of escaping, and insisted on taking with
him to Madrid his solicitor and a witness. He reached the capital alive,
and having settled his little affairs with benevolent judges, turned to
a different means of livelihood, and eventually, it is said, occupied a
responsible post in the Government. It is satisfactory to think that his
felonious talents were not in after-life entirely wasted.

* * *

It was the beginning of March when I started. According to the old
proverb, the dog was already seeking the shade: _En Marzo busca la
sombra el perro_; the chilly Spaniard, loosening the folds of his
_capa_, acknowledged that at mid-day in the sun it was almost warm. The
winter rains appeared to have ceased; the sky over Seville was
cloudless, not with the intense azure of midsummer, but with a blue that
seemed mixed with silver. And in the sun the brown water of the
Guadalquivir glittered like the scales on a fish's back, or like the
burnished gold of old Moorish pottery.

I set out in the morning early, with saddle-bags fixed on either side
and poncho strapped to my pommel. A loaded revolver, though of course I
never had a chance to use it, made me feel pleasantly adventurous. I
walked cautiously over the slippery cobbles of the streets, disturbing
the silence with the clatter of my horse's shoes. Now and then a mule or
a donkey trotted by, with panniers full of vegetables, of charcoal or of
bread, between which on the beast's neck sat perched a man in a short
blouse. I came to the old rampart of the town, now a promenade; and at
the gate groups of idlers, with cigarettes between their lips, stood
talking.

An hospitable friend had offered lodging for the night and food; after
which, my ideas of the probable accommodation being vague, I expected to
sleep upon straw, for victuals depending on the wayside inns. I arrived
at the _Campo de la Cruz_, a tiny chapel which marks the same distance
from the Cathedral as Jesus Christ walked to the Cross; it is the final
boundary of Seville.

Immediately afterwards I left the high-road, striking across country to
Carmona. The land was already wild; on either side of the bridle-path
were great wastes of sand covered only by palmetto. The air was cool and
fresh, like the air of English country in June when it has rained
through the night; and Aguador, snorting with pleasure, cantered over
the uneven ground, nimbly avoiding holes and deep ruts wit