THE day passed.

I had adventures of the road, but none of consequence.
I slept well among the rocks, waked, ate the bit of bread I had with me, and fell again to walking.
Mountains were now withdrawing to the distant horizon where they stood around, a mighty and beautiful wall.

I was coming down into the plain of Granada, that once had been a garden.

Now, north, south, east, west, it lay war-trampled.

Old owners were dead, men and women, or were _mudexares_, vassals, or were fled, men and women, all who could flee, to their kindred in Africa.