said Samuel one day, "I brought from my
house this morning the family papers, for you to read. Not all of them.
There are too many altogether! We Aboabs are very old; I wish to prove
to the consul that we are _judeos_ of Spain, and that we still remember
the beautiful land."

And from underneath the counter he drew forth divers rolls of parchment
covered with Hebrew characters. They were matrimonial documents, acts of
union of the Aboabs with certain families of the Israelite community. At
the head of all these documents figured on one side the coat of arms of
England and on the other that of Spain, in bright colors and gold
borders.

"We are English," declared the patriarch. "May the Lord preserve our
king and send him much happiness; but we are Spaniards historically:
Castilians, that is... Castilians."

He selected from the parchments one that was cleaner and fresher than
the others, and bent over it his white, wavy beard and his tearful eyes.

"This is the wedding contract of Benamor with my poor daughter: Luna's
parents. You can't understand it, for it's in Hebrew characters, but the
language is Castilian, pure Castilian, as it was spoken by our
ancestors."

And slowly, in an infantile voice, as if he relished the obsolete forms
of the words, he read the terms of the contract that united the parties
"in the custom of Old Castile." Then he enumerated the conditions of the
marriage, the penalties either of the contracting parties might incur if
the union were dissolved through his or her fault.

"'Such party will pay,'" mumbled the patriarch, "'will pay... so many
silver ounces.' Are there still silver ounces in Castile, senor
consul?"...

Luna, in her conversations with Aguirre, demonstrated an interest as
keen as that of her old grandfather in the beautiful land, the far-off,
remote, mysterious land,--in spite of the fact that its boundary was
situated but a few steps away, at the very gates of Gibraltar. All she
knew of it was a little fisherman's hamlet, beyond La Linea, whither she
had gone with her family on their summer vacations.

"Cadiz! Seville! How enchanting they must be!... I can picture them to
myself: I have often beheld them in my dreams, and I really believe that
if I ever saw them they wouldn't surprise me in the least.... Seville!
Tell me, Don Luis, is it true that sweethearts converse there through a
grating? And is it certain that the maidens are serenaded with a guitar,
and the young