He stood on the hearth with his hands folded behind him, and with a delightful suavity turned the conversation upon the country rather than the people.

It was a glorious day in the dawn of spring.

The tenderest greens, the softest blues, the freshest scents, the clearest air, the most delightful sunshine were everywhere.

The white old town, with its picturesque crowds, its murmur of voices and laughter, its echoes of fife and drum, its loves and its hatreds, was at his feet; and, far off, the hazy glory of the mountains, the greenness and freshness of Paradise, the peace and freedom of the vast, unplanted places.

The old marquis was insensibly led to contemplate the whole; and, in so doing, to put uppermost that pride of country which was the base of every feeling susceptible to the priest's influence.
"Such a pleasant city, Marquis! Spanish monks founded it.