The exiles were about eleven thousand in number. They included the descendants of the wealthiest and noblest Moorish families of Granada, and, indeed, of the entire Peninsula. Many of them traced their ancestry back to the princely families of the khalifate, eminent alike for intellectual accomplishments and military renown. In their keeping were the ancient traditions of their race; the rare memorials of the Moslem conquest and domination; the remnants of Arabic literature which had escaped the destructive zeal of Ximenes and the exhaustive search of prying alguazils and inquisitors. Their houses still displayed the splendid decorations peculiar to the palmy days of the emirate; marble halls and alabaster fountains; hangings of embossed and gilded leather; stuccoes that in elegance of design and delicacy of execution equalled those of the Alhambra. In the Vega were many estates, cultivated by their dependents, which returned each year a large and profitable income. All of these landed possessions were unceremoniously appropriated by the Spaniards, and the personal effects sold by the exiles yielded scarcely a tithe of their value. Driven by force from their homes, and despoiled on every side, the Moriscoes pursued their sorrowful way. Reared in comfort and affluence and accustomed to luxury, they were ill-fitted for a long and toilsome journey. Few of the multitude that started arrived at their destination. The hardships incident to travel and exposure to the burning heat proved fatal to hundreds. Many expired from grief, from hunger, from disease. Others were wantonly killed by their guards, who plundered, without hesitancy or compunction, both the living and the dead. When this source of profit was exhausted, the strongest men and the most attractive women were sold as slaves. The condition of the few survivors who arrived at Seville was so deplorable that even the compassion of ecclesiastics, whose lives had been passed in the infliction of persecution and torture, was excited. The greater portion of the inhabitants, however, regarded these victims of tyranny with indifference or curiosity. The sufferings of tender youth, of decrepit age, of beauty in distress, awakened no sympathy; and if any feelings were exhibited by the throngs that lined the highways along which, under a scorching sun, the fainting exiles staggered, they were those of bitter enmity and of exultation at the misfortunes of heretics who had forfeited all title to humanity through the inherited blood of a despised and conquered race.