The heat was, indeed, atrocious, fully equalling that of a lime-kiln; and nothing but the most insatiable curiosity could have prevented us from renouncing all sight-seeing in such a Senegambian temperature; but we were still full of all the savage ardour of Parisian tourists, overflowing with enthusiasm for local colour. Nothing disheartened us: we only stopped to drink, for our throats were more parched than the sands of Africa, and we absorbed water like a couple of dry sponges. I really do not know how we avoided becoming dropsical; for, exclusive of wine and ices, we consumed seven or eight jars of water a day. _Agua! Agua!_ was our unceasing cry; and a chain of _muchachos_, passing the jars to one another, from our room to the kitchen, was hardly capable of quenching the fire that raged within us. Had it not been for this never-ending inundation, we should have been reduced to dust, like a sculptor's clay models when he forgets to moisten them. After having visited the cathedral, we resolved, in spite of our thirst, to proceed to the church of _San Juan de los Reyes_; but it was only after a very long parley that we succeeded in obtaining the keys, for the church itself has been shut for the last seven or eight years, and the convent, of which it forms part, is abandoned and falling into ruins. _San Juan de los Reyes_ is situated on the banks of the Tagus, close to the bridge of San Martin. Its walls are of that beautiful orange colour which distinguishes old buildings in countries where it never rains. A collection of royal statues, of very imposing appearance and in noble and chivalresque attitudes, decorates the exterior; but this is not the most remarkable feature about the church of _San Juan de los Reyes_, for all mediæval churches are peopled with statues. An immense number of chains suspended on hooks decorate the walls from top to bottom: they are the fetters of the Christian captives who were delivered at the conquest of Granada. These chains, thus hung up in the guise of ornaments and votive offerings, give the church somewhat of the air of a prison, which is rather strange and repulsive.