ndeed to be condoled with."

"I have slightly changed our plans," said Count Pedro, "and we leave the
day after to-morrow by the early train. It will be less fatiguing for
Isabel. We shall also see more of the country. I never tire of gazing
upon the beauties of nature, and fortunately my wife is in sympathy with
me. Seas, mountains, forests, vast territories, cultivated plains or
sandy deserts, all alike fill me with a delight and rapture nothing else
can equal. I hope to spend some of the first years of our married life
in becoming intimate with the best points of many lands."

"You will find few more charming spots than Valencia," returned the
priest. "Its rich plains never fail. No sooner has one harvest been
gathered than another appears. Did you notice the peasants in the fields
as we came along, sitting at work with their knees up to their ears? How
picturesque they look walking down a road in their short white linen
trousers and jackets and scarlet mantles, coloured handkerchiefs wound
round the head like a turban, and blue scarves tied round the waist. I
have watched them many a time. You will see nothing of this in the town
itself."

"I don't quite like the type of face," objected de la Torre. "It is too
African. The sun has grilled them to a colour that is almost mahogany.
And they are superstitious and revengeful."

"But their imagination is lively and keeps them in almost constant good
humour," returned the priest, "so they seldom think of revenge. How well
they sing their _fiera_, how jovially they dance the _rondella_. It is
quite a pleasure to look at this abandonment of happiness, this
existence utterly free from care. Believe me, they have their virtues.
And how pretty the women are! Few women in Spain equal those of
Valencia. They are singularly graceful and their walk is perfect. Notice
a congregation of women in church. You will hardly find elsewhere an
assemblage so conspicuous for beauty of face and grace and nobility of
form."

Countess Pedro shook her head. "Oh!" she cried, raising her clasped
hands. "I shall have more and more to tell to the Archbishop. Monsieur
de Nevada, you are not supposed to know that female beauty exists, and
here you are describing it with an eloquence which comes from the
heart."

[Illustration: RENAISSANCE TOWER: VALENCIA.]

"With humble deference to your opinion, madame, I disagree with you,"
laughed the priest. "All things beautiful are to be appreciated;
ab