The old man knocked at the portal. A light appeared at a small window
just above it, and a female head looked out: it might have served as a
model for one of Raphael's saints. The hair was beautifully braided,
and gathered in a silken net; and the complexion, as well as could be
judged from the light, was that soft, rich brunette, so becoming in
southern beauty.
"It is I, my child," said the old man. The face instantly disappeared,
and soon after a wicket-door in the large portal opened. Antonio, who
had ventured near to the building, caught a transient sight of a
delicate female form. A pair of fine black eyes darted a look of
surprise at seeing a stranger hovering near, and the door was
precipitately closed.
There was something in this sudden gleam of beauty that wonderfully
struck the imagination of the student. It was like a brilliant,
flashing from its dark casket. He sauntered about, regarding the
gloomy pile with increasing interest. A few simple, wild notes, from
among some rocks and trees at a little distance, attracted his
attention. He found there a group of Gitanas, a vagabond gipsy race,
which at that time abounded in Spain, and lived in hovels and caves of
the hills about the neighbourhood of Granada.
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