“And when they were all about to meet,” the old Chronicle goes on, “Bernardo began to shout aloud with great joy, and to say, ‘Cometh indeed the Count Don Sandias de Saldaña!’ And the King, Don Alfonso, said to him, ‘Behold where he cometh! Go, therefore, and salute him whom you have sought so much to behold.’ And Bernardo went towards him, and kissed his hand; but when he found it cold, and saw that all his color was black, he knew that he was dead; and with the grief he had from it, he began to cry aloud and to make great moan, saying, ‘Alas! Count Sandias, in an evil hour was I born, for never was man so lost as I am now for you; for, since you are dead, and my castle is gone, I know no counsel by which I may do aught.’ And some say in their ballads (_cantares de gesta_) that the king then said, ‘Bernardo, now is not the time for much talking, and therefore I bid you go straightway forth from my land,’” etc. This constitutes one of the most interesting parts of the old General Chronicle: but the whole is curious, and much of it is rich and picturesque. It is written with more freedom and less exactness of style than some of the other works of its noble author; and in the last division shows a want of finish, which in the first two parts is not perceptible, and in the third only slightly so. But everywhere it breathes the spirit of its age, and, when taken together, is not only the most interesting of the Spanish chronicles, but the most interesting of all that, in any country, mark the transition from its poetical and romantic traditions to the grave exactness of historical truth.