glittering gems; in the lust of his heart he had just cried aloud, "And
these are mine!" when he heard the roar of the mob below the wall,--when
he saw the glare of their torches against the casement. It was in vain
that he shrieked aloud, "I am the man that exposed the Jew!" the wild
wind scattered his words over a deafened audience. Driven from his
chamber by the smoke and flame, afraid to venture forth amongst the
crowd, the miser loaded himself with the most precious of the store: he
descended the steps, he bent his way to the secret vault, when suddenly
the floor, pierced by the flames, crashed under him, and the fire rushed
up in a fiercer and more rapid volume, as the death-shriek broke through
that lurid shroud.

Such were the principal events of the last night of the Moorish dynasty
in Granada.




CHAPTER VII.

THE END.

Day dawned upon Granada: the populace had sought their homes, and a
profound quiet wrapped the streets, save where, from the fires committed
in the late tumult, was yet heard the crash of roofs or the crackle of
the light and fragrant timber employed in those pavilions of the summer.
The manner in which the mansions of Granada were built, each separated
from the other by extensive gardens, fortunately prevented the flames
from extending. But the inhabitants cared so little for the hazard, that
not a single guard remained to watch the result. Now and then some