I shall always remember one quiet hour permeated with the holy spirit of Easter among these joyful and yet pious Easter days.--I had mounted the Giralda, that jewel of erstwhile Moorish minaret architecture, the cathedral tower. At my feet lay the white sea of houses. The town was bathed in sunshine. The beautiful blue dome of heaven spread its mighty arch over the holiday-making land as though protecting and blessing it. The faint music of the mass far below was wafted up to me, when suddenly a booming vibration filled the air, and all the tower bells, which had been silent so long, peeled out across the sunlit country: Christ is arisen! The sister bells of all the other towers echoed the message across the spring clad country.
=The Patio= (40, 42-49). It is a favourite expression to call Seville the town of bright court-yards. Those court-yards which light and fill the house with sunshine. The Sevillian house, or rather the Andalusian house, is not a building such as our houses, fronting on the street, but one that fronts to an inner court, turning its back on the street. The outsides of the houses are bare of ornament, almost windowless; a secret to the passer-by. All their beauty is displayed yardwards. There wealth obtains in all its pomp, and poverty unfolds its modest ornaments. The narrow passage--the Zaguan--leading from the street to the court is closed by a railed gate. The gallery--to which access is gained by steps leading from the court--is supported by columns. The rooms of the upper stories lead to the gallery. To cool the air there is a fountain in the middle of the court surrounded by palms, araucarias, laurels, orange-trees, oleanders and flowers in pots. The walls are covered with multi-coloured tiles. Against them brightly up-holstered furniture, chairs, and sometimes even a piano; the inevitable guitar is in a corner. Climbing plants festoon the court.
Practically this is the centre of the whole family life. Friends are received here, hours passed in argument, singing, music and dancing--whether in company or alone, dreaming away the hours, listening to the plashing of the fountain, it is in the court--the soul of the house--that most time is spent.