e
holy Virgin, until Isabel was hysterically weeping, Antonia at a mental
tension almost unendurable, and Thomas on the verge of one of those
terrifying passions that mark the extremity of habitually gentle,
patient men.

"My God, mother!" he exclaimed with a stamp of his spurred boot on the
stone floor; "if you will go to the devil--to the priests, I mean--you
must go alone. Kiss your mother farewell, girls. I have not another
moment to wait."

Then, in a passion of angry sobs and reproaches, she decided to go with
her daughters, and no saint ever suffered with a more firm conviction of
their martyrdom to duty than did this poor foolish, affectionate slave
to her emotions and her superstitions. But when Thomas had gone, and
nothing was to be gained by a display of her sufferings, she permitted
herself to be interested in their hiding-place, and after Antonia had
given her a cup of chocolate, and Isabel had petted and soothed her, she
began gradually to allow them to explain their situation, and even to
feel some interest in its discussion.

They sat in the charmful, dusky glimmer of starlight, for candles and
fire were forbidden luxuries. Fortunately, the weather was warm and
sunny, and for making chocolate and such simple cookery, Lopez had
provided a spirit lamp. The Senora was as pleased as a child with
this arrangement. She had never seen anything like it before. She even
imagined the food cooked upon it had some rare and unusual flavor. She
was quite proud when she had learned its mysteries, and quite sure that
chocolate she made upon it was chocolate of a most superior kind.

The house had been empty for two years, and the great point was to
preserve its air of desolation. No outside arrangement was touched; the
torn remnants of some balcony hangings were left fluttering in the wind;
the closed windows and the closed doors, the absence of smoke from the
chimneys and of lights from the windows, preserved the air of emptiness
and loneliness that the passers-by had been accustomed to see. And,
as it was on the highway into the city, there were great numbers
of passers: mule-trains going to Mexico and Sonora; cavaliers and
pedestrians; splendidly-dressed nobles and officials, dusty peons
bringing in wood; ranchmen, peddlers, and the whole long list of a great
city's purveyors and servants.

But though some of the blinds were half-closed, much could be seen;
and Isabel also often took cushions upon the flat roof