It rained day and night; and yet the city, from its animation, seemed to be having a holiday.  The young ones, sent home from school because of the bad weather, were all on the bridges throwing branches into the water to see how swift the current was, or playing along the lanes close to the river, planting sticks in the banks and waiting for the ever-broadening torrent to reach them.

Under the shelter of the projecting eaves, whence broken water-spouts were belching streams as thick as a man’s arm, loungers in the cafes would slip along the streets toward the river-front; and after glancing at the flood from the scant protection of their umbrellas, would make their way proudly back, stopping in every drinking place to offer their opinions on the rise that had taken place since their previous inspection.

The city from end to end was one seething storm of heated, typically “Southern” argument and prophecy.  Friendships were being made and broken, over questions as to whether the river had risen four inches the past hour, or only one, and as to whether this freshet were more important than the one five years before.

Meantime the sky kept on weeping through its countless eyes; the river, roaring more wrathful every moment, was now licking at the ends of the low-lying streets near the bank, creeping up into the gardens on the shore, stealing in between the orange-trees, opening holes in the hedges and the mudwalls.

The main concern of the populace was whether it were raining also in the mountains of Cuenca.  If much water came down from there, the flood would become serious.  And experienced eyes studied the color of the waters carefully.  If there was any black in them, it meant they came from the upper provinces.

The cloud-burst lasted for two whole days.  The night of the second day closed, and the roar of the river sounded forebodingly in the darkness.  On its black surface lights could be seen reflected like restless flashes of flame—­candles from the shore houses and lanterns of watchmen on guard along the banks.

In the lower streets the water was coming under the doors into the houses.  Women and children were taking refuge in the garrets while the men, with their trousers rolled up to their knees, were splashing about in the liquid silt, carrying their farming tools to places of safety, or tugging at some donkey who would be balking at going too deep into the water.

All these people of the suburbs, on finding their houses flooded in the darkness of night, lost the jesting calm which they had so boastfully displayed during the daytime.  Now fear of the supernatural came over them, and with childish anxiety they sought protection of some Higher Power to avert the danger.  Perhaps this freshet was the final one!  Perhaps they were the victims destined to perish in the final downfall of the city!...  Women began to shriek with terror on seeing their wretched lanes converted into deep canals.