hade of regret
came over me as I thought of my invalid friends, but I soon forgot
them.

The enramada, or enclosure for the ball-room, was an arbour about one
hundred and fifty feet long and fifty feet wide, surrounded by a
railing of rude lattice-work, covered with costal, or hemp bagging, as
a protection against the night air and sun, and lighted by lamps with
large glass shades. The floor was of hard cement; along the railing was
a row of chairs, all occupied by ladies; gentlemen, boys, and girls,
children and nurses, were sitting promiscuously on the floor, and Don
Philippe Peon, when he gave me his chair, took a place among them. El
bayle de las Mestizas was what might be called a fancy ball, in which
the senoritas of the village appeared as las Mestizas, or in the
costume of Mestiza women: loose white frock, with red worked border
round the neck and skirt, a man's black hat, a blue scarf over the
shoulder, gold necklace and bracelets. The young men figured as
vaqueros, or major domos, in shirt and pantaloons of pink striped
muslin, yellow buckskin shoes, and low, round-crowned, hard-platted
straw hat, with narrow brim rolled up at the sides, and trimmed with
gold cord and tassels. Both costumes were fanciful and pretty, but at
first the black hat was repulsive. I had heard of the sombreros negros
as part of the Mestiza costume, and had imagined some neat and graceful
fabric of straw; but the faces of the girls were so soft and mild that
even a man's hat could not divest them of their feminine charm.
Altogether the scene was somewhat different from what I expected, more
refined, fanciful, and picturesque.

To sustain the fancy character, the only dance was that of the toros. A
vaquero stood up, and each Mestiza was called out in order. This dance,
as we had seen it among the Indians, was extremely uninteresting, and
required a movement of the body, a fling of the arms, and a snapping of
the fingers, which were at least inelegant; but with las Mestizas of
Ticul it was all graceful and pleasing and there was something
particularly winning in the snapping of the fingers. There were no
dashing beauties, and not one who seemed to have any idea of being a
belle; but all exhibited a mildness, softness, and amiability of
expression that created a feeling of promiscuous tenderness. Sitting at
ease in an arm-chair, after my sojourn in Indian ranchos, I was
particularly alive to these influences. And there was such a charm