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Updated: June 1, 2025
He waked with the sunlight pouring in between the lattices of his shutters from the Plaza Cataluña, tired and unrefreshed. He was like some figure from a child's story-book! Some figure made up of tins and sticks and endowed with malevolent life. London asked news of him, and he stalked through London. Where should Hillyard find his true image and counterpart?
In the following six months one hundred and fifty thousand Moors were hounded out of the land which their ancestors had possessed and enriched for centuries. Murcia, Andalucia, Aragon, Cataluña, Castile, La Mancha, and Estremadura were next taken in hand.
"Touching the matter of those ships," said Hillyard, sitting down opposite to Fairbairn. Fairbairn grinned. "It worked very well," said he, "so far." Hillyard turned towards Lopez and invited him to a seat. "Let me hear everything," he said. Spanish ships were running to England with the products of Cataluña and returning full of coal, and shipowners made their fortunes and wages ran high.
Cataluña said there was no living with Andalusia. Aragon wanted her own king and wished Valencia would go hang. Navarre was all for Don Carlos. And when Marcos de Sarrion rode into Saragossa they were calling in the streets that only a republic was possible now. He went home to that grim palace between the Cathedral and the Ebro and found his father gone.
So all these Christian realms, Leon including Galicia and Asturias Castile, and Aragon, which was soon united to Cataluña, spread southwards, faster when the Moslems were weakened by division, slower when they had been united and strengthened by a fresh wave of fanaticism from Africa.
Cataluña was in open revolt . The Italian provinces followed . Portugal fought and achieved her emancipation from Spanish rule. The treasury was empty, the people starving. The court was corrupt; vice and crime were rampant in the streets of Madrid.
"In three-quarters of an hour," said Jenny; and later on that morning, with a great fear removed from his heart, Hillyard drove Stella Croyle back to London. It was nine o'clock on a night of late August. The restaurant of the Maison Dorée in the Plaza Cataluña at Barcelona looks across the brilliantly-lighted square from the south side.
Many of these circles are still filled with thin slabs of granite all pierced with most beautiful patterns, some quite Gothic, but the majority almost Moorish in design, not unlike the slabs in the circles over the cloister arcades at Alcobaça, but though this is probably only a coincidence, still more like those at Tarragona in Cataluña.
Its flourishing factories, its shipping, its general air of a prosperous business-centre was unique in Spain. This is no longer the case. Although the capital of Cataluña has made enormous strides, and would scarcely now be recognised by those who knew it before the Revolution, it has many rivals.
One school is a manure-heap in process of fermentation, and one of the local authorities has said that in this way the children are warmer in winter. One school in Cataluna adjoins the prison. Another, in Andalusia, is turned into an enclosure for the bulls when there is a bull-fight in the town. These conditions excited the indignation of a Spanish educator by the name of Francesco Ferrer.
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