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Updated: June 11, 2025
It was Ferdinand’s policy to take and hold, capturing stronghold after stronghold until all Granada was his. In a memorable pun on the name of Granada, which signifies a pomegranate, he said, "I will pick out the seeds of this pomegranate one by one." On a dark night in 1481 he fell suddenly on Zahara, a mountain town on the Christian frontier, so strong in itself that it was carelessly guarded.
He put his arms about me and embraced me convulsively, exclaiming: "Oh, dear friend, if you only knew, if you only knew!" "But I don't know anything," I answered. "What on earth has happened to you?" "I'm simply the happiest man in the world!" "But what is it?" "The note that called me to the hotel was from her." "But from whom? From Gabriela Zahara?" "Oh, stop such nonsense!
There many a man of quality seeks for his truant son, nor seeks in vain; and the youth feels as acutely the pain of being torn from that life of licence as though he were going to meet his death. But this joyous life has its bitters as well as its sweets. No one can lie down to sleep securely in Zahara, but must always have the dread hanging over him of being carried off to Barbary at any moment.
When I had convinced myself of this, I turned and looked at the accused. Good God! Gabriela Zahara was not only Blanca, the woman my friend so deeply loved, but she was also the woman I had met in the stagecoach and subsequently at Granada, the beautiful South American, Mercedes!
Then her eyes fell upon me, and she blushed slightly. The judge now seemed to awaken from his stupor and asked in a harsh voice: "What is your name?" "Gabriela Zahara, widow of Romeral," answered the accused in a soft voice. Zarco trembled. He had just learned that his Blanca had never existed; she told him so herself she who only three hours before had consented to become his wife!
Then I will do it to-night if you tell what happens." Exhibiting a sort of eager impatience the man displayed a bunch of official-looking documents. "I give him these," he explained, "and my work is done." "H'm," said Zahara. "He must not know that it is I who have shown him to you. To-night he will be here at nine o'clock, and I shall dance. You understand?"
And to prove the efficacy of their steel they sallied forth and took Zahara, one of the strongholds which the father of Ferdinand had taken from the Moors. The chivalry of Spain sprang quickly into well-girt saddles, and the ten years' siege of Granada, "the last stronghold of the Moors in Spain," began in 1481.
Once, shortly after the Egyptian girl had come to the house of Agapoulos, Zahara had playfully placed her round white arm against that of the more dusky beauty, and: "Look!" she had exclaimed. "I am cream and you are coffee." "It is true," the other had admitted in her practical, serious way, "but some men do not like cream. All men like coffee."
His voice was heard in every part in awful denunciation: "The peace is broken! exterminating war is commenced. Woe! woe! woe to Granada! its fall is at hand! desolation will dwell in its palaces; its strong men will fall beneath the sword, its children and maidens be led into captivity. Zahara is but a type of Granada!"
The third fugitive was also a young man, and a negro, short, thickset, square, tough as india-rubber, and black as the Emperor of Zahara. Good-humour wrinkled the corners of his eyes, the milk of human kindness played on his thick lips and rippled his sable brow, and intense sincerity, like a sunbeam, suffused his entire visage.
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