him on the hill.

Soon he reached Ferdinand, who was stationed near a mosque surrounded by
all the glory of his Court, pennons flying, and knights in their
magnificent array. Boabdil would have thrown himself from his horse in
sign of homage to kiss the hand of the king of Arragon, but Ferdinand
prevented him. Then Boabdil delivered the keys of the Alhambra to the
victor, saying: 'They are thine, O king, since Allah so decrees it; use
thy success with clemency and moderation.' Moving on sadly he saluted
Isabella, and passed to rejoin his family; the Christians processioned
to the city with psalm-singing.

But when Boabdil was crossing the mountains he turned to look at the
city he had lost, and burst into tears.

'You do well,' said his mother, 'to weep like a woman for what you could
not defend like a man.'

'Alas!' he cried, 'when were woes ever equal to mine?'

It was not to be expected that the pious Kings of Castille and Arragon
would keep their word, and means were soon invented to hound the
wretched Boabdil from the principality they had granted. He crossed to
Africa, and settled in Fez, of which the Sultan was his kinsman. It is
pathetic to learn that there he built himself a palace in imitation of
the Alhambra. At last, after many years, he was killed in an obscure
battle fighting against the Sultan's rebels, and the Arab historian
finishes the account of him with these words: 'Wretched man! who could
lose his life in another's cause, though he dared not die in his own!
Such was the immutable decree of destiny. Blessed be Allah, who exalteth
and abaseth the kings of the earth according to His divine will, in the
fulfilment of which consists that eternal justice which regulates all
human affairs.'

In the day of El Makkary, the historian of the Moorish Empire, Boabdil's
descendants had so fallen that they were nothing but common beggars,
subsisting upon the charitable allowances made to the poor from the
funds of the mosques.

_One generation passeth away and another generation cometh: but the
earth abideth for ever._

XXXV

[Sidenote: Los Pobres]

People say that in Granada the beggars are more importunate than in any
other Spanish town, but throughout Andalusia their pertinacity and
number are amazing. They are licensed by the State, and the brass badge
they wear makes them demand alms almost as a right. It is curious to
find that the Spaniard, who is by no means a charitable being, gives