_The Sagrario_ adjoins the Cathedral, and may be entered from the Court of the Oranges. The building serves as a parish church, and occupies the ground of the old _Sagrario_. It was begun in 1618 by Miguel Zumárraga, and completed in 1662 by Lorenzo Fernandez. The vaulted roof is remarkable. Pedro Roldan painted the retablo, which was formerly in the Francisan Convent. The convent stood in the Plaza de San Fernando, or Plaza Nueva, as it is sometimes called. Roldan was a contemporary and follower of Montañez. There is an important image of St. Clement by Pedro Duque Cornejo. The statue of the Virgin is the work of the devout Martinez Montañez. Beneath the church is the vault of the Archbishops of Seville. The terra-cotta altar is exceedingly decorative. In the sacristy there are some splendid _azulejos_, which formed part of the old Morisco mosque. CHAPTER VI _The Alcázar_ 'How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.' RUBÁIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM. The richest monument of Almohade might in Seville is the beautiful Alcázar, or 'Castle,' which stands at but a stone's-throw from the remains of the great mosque. It is a palace of dreams, encompassed by lovely perfumed gardens. Its courts and salons are redolent of Moorish days, and haunted by the spirits of turbaned sheiks, philosophers, minstrels, and dark-eyed beauties of the harem. As we loiter under the orange trees of quiet gardens, we picture the palace as it was when peopled by the chiefs and retinues of swarthy skin in the time of Abdelasis, and contrast what remains of the primitive structure and Morisco decoration with the successive additions by Christian kings. The nightingales still sing among the odorous orange bloom, and in the tangles of roses birds build their nests. Fountains tinkle beneath gently moving palms; the savour of Orientalism clings to the spot. Here wise men discussed in the cool of summer nights, when the moon stood high over the Giralda, and white beams fell through the spreading boughs of the lemon trees, and shivered upon the tiled pavements. [Illustration: Patio de las Doncellas] In this garden the musicians played, and the tawny dancers writhed and curved their lissome bodies, in dramatic Eastern dances. _Ichabod!_ The moody potentate, bowed down with the cares of high office, no longer treads the dim corridor, or lingers in the shade of the palm trees, lost in cogitation. No sound of gaiety reverberates in the deserted courts; no voice of orator is heard in the Hall of Justice. The green lizards bask on the deserted benches of the gardens. Rose petals strew the paved paths. One's footsteps echo in the gorgeous _patios_, whose walls have witnessed many a scene of pomp, tragedy and pathos. The spell of the past holds one; and before the imagination troops a long procession of illustrious sovereigns, courtiers, counsellors and menials. * * * * *