ordinary life again. The temper
of the Americans also encouraged this disposition. They were discovered
neither to be bloodthirsty nor cannibals. It was even seen that they
enjoyed the fandango and the monte tables, and that a proposition for a
bullfight at Christmas was not opposed by them.

And in spite of all anxieties, there were many sweet and unusual
pleasures in the Worth home. The discipline of the troops was so lenient
that Dare and Luis--one or both--were generally there in the evenings.
Their turns as scouts or watchman at the Alamo only made more delightful
the hours when they were exempted from these duties. As for the doctor,
he had been released from all obligations but those pertaining to his
profession, and Antonia, noticed that he spent every hour he could spare
with the Senora. For some reason, he appeared determined to strengthen
his influence over her.

On Christmas Eve the old city was very gay. The churches were decorated,
and splendidly dressed men and women passed in and out with smiles and
congratulations. The fandangoes and the gambling houses were all open.
From the huertas around, great numbers of families had come to receive
absolution and keep the Nativity. Their rich clothing and air of
idleness gave a holiday feeling to the streets noisy with the buzzing
of the guitar, the metallic throb of the cithara, the murmurs of voices,
and the cries of the hawkers. Priests, Mexicans, Indians and Americans
touched each other on the narrow thoroughfares, but that indescribable
feeling of good will which comes with Christmas pervaded the atmosphere,
and gave, even in the midst of war and danger, a sense of anticipated
pleasure.

At the Worth residence there was a household feast. The Senora and her
daughters were in full dress. They were waiting for the dear ones who
had promised to join them at the Angelus. One by one the houses around
were illuminated. Parties of simple musicians began to pass each other
continually--they were going to serenade the blessed Mary all night
long. As Antonia closed the balcony window, half a dozen of these
young boys passed the garden hedge singing to the clacking of their
castanets--

"This is the eve of Christmas,
No sleep from night to morn,
The Virgin is in travail,
At twelve will the Child be born."

Luis appeared at the same moment. He caught up the wild melody and came
up the garden path singing it. Dare and the doctor