, and lying down,
watched, from between the pilasters of the balustrade surrounding it,
the moving panorama.

On the morning of the third day of what the Senora, called their
imprisonment, they went to the roof to sit in the clear sunshine and
the fresh wind. They were weary and depressed with the loneliness and
uncertainty of their position, and were almost longing for something to
happen that would push forward the lagging wheels of destiny.

A long fanfare of trumpets, a roll of drums, a stirring march of warlike
melody, startled them out of the lethargic tedium of exhausted hopes and
fears. "It is Santa Anna!" said Antonia; and though they durst not stand
up, they drew closer to the balustrade and watched for the approaching
army. Is there any woman who can resist that nameless emotion which both
fires and rends the heart in the presence of great military movements?
Antonia was still and speechless, and white as death. Isabel
watched with gleaming eyes and set lips. The Senora's excitement was
unmistakably that of exultant national pride.

Santa Anna and his staff-officers were in front. They passed too rapidly
for individual notice, but it was a grand moving picture of handsome
men in scarlet and gold--of graceful mangas and waving plumes, and
bright-colored velvet capes; of high-mettled horses, and richly-adorned
Mexican saddles, aqueras of black fur, and silver stirrups; of thousands
of common soldiers, in a fine uniform of red and blue; with antique
brazen helmets gleaming in the sun, and long lances, adorned with
tri-colored streamers. They went past like a vivid, wonderful
dream--like the vision of an army of mediaeval knights.

In a few minutes the tumult of the advancing army was increased tenfold
by the clamor of the city pouring out to meet it. The clashing bells
from the steeples, the shouting of the populace, the blare of trumpets
and roll of drums, the lines of churchmen and officials in their
grandest dresses, of citizens of every age,--the indescribable human
murmur--altogether it was a scene whose sensuous splendor obliterated
for a time the capacity of impressionable natures to judge rightly.

But Antonia saw beyond all this brave show the ridges of red war, and a
noble perversity of soul made her turn her senses inward. Then her eyes
grew dim, and her heart rose in pitying prayer for that small band of
heroes standing together for life and liberty in the grim Alamo. No pomp
of war was theirs.