"No, no," he cried despondently. "I am only thinking that that inspector will be one too many for us. He looked revengeful. At Barcelona we shall find ourselves under arrest. Instead of a comfortable night at the Four Nations, we shall occupy a dark cell in the town prison."
A gloomy prospect indeed--too terrible for reality.
"Calm yourself," we replied. "You played your part too well just now. The inspector was really alarmed and glad to get rid of you at any price. If he pursued us with vengeance, we might turn up against him, like the eastern slippers. Depend upon it we have seen the last of him."
We looked round comfortably upon our possessions. With nine points of the law on our side all must be well.
Barcelona--H. C.'s anxiety--Mutual salutes--Old impressions--Disappointment--Familiar cries and scenes--Flower-sellers--Perpetual summer--Commercial element--Manchester of Spain--Surrounding country--Where care comes not--Barcelonita--The quays--A land of corn and wine--Relaxing air--Lovely ladies--Ancient element conspicuous by its absence--Historical past--Great in the Middle Ages--Wise and powerful--Commerce of the world--Wealth and learning--Waxes voluptuous--Ferdinand and Isabella--Diplomatic but not grateful--Brave and courageous--Fell before Peterborough--Napoleon's treachery--Republican people--Prosperous once more--Ecclesiastical treasures--Matchless cathedral--Inspiration--Influence of the Moors--Work of Majorcan architect--Dream world--Imposing scene.
We made way without further let or hindrance, and about ten o'clock the train steamed into Barcelona. H. C. gazed out anxiously for a regiment of soldiers with drawn swords, and was relieved at seeing only the usual couple of policemen with guns and cocked hats, looking harmless and amiable. He smiled benignly, saluted, and they returned the compliment.
Our hearts beat quicker as we found ourselves in presence of familiar haunts. The very name conjured up a thousand scenes and pictures, every one of them a delightful recollection. From its fair port we had more than once sailed in days gone by for our beloved Majorca, loveliest of islands. Here we had spent days of pleasant expectation, waiting for the island steamer; more than once had returned with a cargo of Majorcan pigs, and after a tug-of-war seen some of the obstinate animals landed at last without their tails. Arriving from the sea was a far pleasanter way of gaining a first impression. The coast views are very fine. Approaching the harbour, church turrets and towers are outlined against the transparent sky. Passing between low reaches, the immense fortress of Montjuich, nearly a thousand feet high, rises like an impregnable rock defying the world.