III
We did not know as yet how almost entirely dramatic the palace of the
Alcazar was, how largely it was representative of what the Spanish
successors of the Moorish kings thought those kings would have made it
if they had made it; and it was prohably through an instinct for the
genuine that we preferred the gardens after our first cries of wonder.
What remains to me of our many visits is the mass of high borders of
box, with roses, jasmine, and orange trees, palms, and cypresses. The
fountains dribbled rather than gushed, and everywhere were ranks and
rows of plants in large, high earthen pots beside or upon the tiled
benching that faced the fountains and would have been easier to sit on
if you had not had to supply the back yourself. The flowers were not in
great profusion, and chiefly we rejoiced in the familiar quaintness of
clumps of massive blood-red coxcombs and strange yellow ones. The walks
were bordered with box, and there remains distinctly the impression of
marble steps and mosaic seats inlaid with tiles; all Seville seems
inlaid with tiles. One afternoon we lingered longer than usual because
the day was so sunnily warm in the garden paths and spaces, without
being hot.
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