Читать книгу The Son of Columbus онлайн

3 страница из 38

Don Felipe, born in a palace and knowing that at sixteen he would inherit the wealth and splendid honors of his dead father, the Duke de Langara y Gama, was yet all simplicity and good sense. His slight figure was more muscular than it appeared, and the softness of his black eyes belied the firmness of his character.

Both lads alike were dressed with extreme plainness, the grandee of Spain wearing no better clothes than the son of the Genoese captain. They were so absorbed in each other that they had no eyes for the glowing scene visible through the iron-studded door, open wide upon the parapet. Below them lay the green gardens and orchards of the monastery. Beyond, stretched the town and the port of Palos, where the masts and hulls of the caravels and other vessels of the time were outlined against the deep sea and blue sky. Some of these vessels were unloading, and others were taking on their cargoes, the sailors singing cheerfully as they worked. Farther off still, the “white horses” of the blue Atlantic dashed wildly over the bar of Saltes, the sun glittering upon the crested waves. Over the whole of the Andalusian coast and the rolling hills beyond was that atmosphere of peace and plenty which made Andalusia to be called the Granary, the Wine Cellar, the Gold Purse, and the Garden of Spain.