er civility of the
inhabitants. They looked sullenly as I passed, and none gave the
friendly Andalusian greeting. I saw a woman hanging clothes on the line
outside her house; she had blue eyes and flaxen hair, a healthy red
face, and a solidity of build which proved the purity of her northern
blood. The houses, too, had a certain exotic quaintness; notwithstanding
the universal whitewash of the South, there was about them still a
northern character. They were prim and regularly built, with little
plots of garden; the fences and the shutters were bright green. I almost
expected to see German words on the post-office and on the tobacco-shop,
and the grandiloquent Spanish seemed out of place; I thought the Spanish
clothes of the men sat upon them uneasily.

The day was drawing to a close and I pushed on to reach Ecija before
night, but Aguador was tired and I was obliged mostly to walk. Now the
highway turned and twisted among little hills and it was a strange
relief to leave the dead level of the plains: on each side the land was
barren and desolate, and in the distance were dark mountains. The sky
had clouded over, and the evening was grey and very cold; the solitude
was awful. At last I overtook a pedlar plodding along by his donkey, the
panniers filled to overflowing with china and glass, which he was taking
to sell in Ecija. He wished to talk, but he was going too slowly, and I
left him. I had hills to climb now, and at the top of each expected to
see the town, but every time was disappointed. The traces of man
surrounded me at last; again I rode among olive-groves and cornfields;
the highway now was bordered with straggling aloes and with hedges of
cactus.

At last! I reached the brink of another hill, and then, absolutely at my
feet, so that I could have thrown a stone on its roofs, lay Ecija with
its numberless steeples.

XXIX

[Sidenote: Ecija]

The central square, where are the government offices, the taverns, and a
little inn, is a charming place, quiet and lackadaisical, its pale
browns and greys very restful in the twilight, and harmonious. The
houses with their queer windows and their balconies of wrought iron are
built upon arcades which give a pleasant feeling of intimacy: in summer,
cool and dark, they must be the promenade of all the gossips and the
loungers. One can imagine the uneventful life, the monotonous round of
existence; and yet the Andalusian blood runs in the people's veins. To
m