show the wind’s course. On the summit of some of these ruined teocallis beyond the walls, I have often seen fresh wreaths of flowers. Nay, in my own patio, before those statues of Coatlicue, Quetzalcoatli, and Teoyamiqui, I have found offerings of flowers and fruit. ‘Tis also said, Señor,” pursued Maraquando, dropping his voice, “that in the hidden Temple of the Opal the Indians still sacrifice human victims to the war-god. But this may be false.”
“Very probably! I cannot conceive such horrors,” replied Philip, with a shudder; “but, as regards priests, there are still some here, I presume?”
“Assuredly; but not of the Society of Jesus—save one. Yes, Padre Ignatius is still here. He was, and is, so beloved by all that the President had not the heart to banish him. So he yet works for the Faith in our midst.”
“I should like to meet Father Ignatius?”
“You shall do so, Señor. He is a great friend of mine, and the confessor of my children. Often does he come to my poor house. But let us walk on, Señor. There are many things to see. El Palacio Nacional, where dwells his excellency; the Market Place, and the alameda. We are proud of our alameda, Señor.”
Thus talked on Don Miguel, and, amused by the novelty of the scene, Philip stared round him with great pleasure. They passed the pulquerias, which are the public-houses of Tlatonac, saw the Palacio Nacional, a huge stone building, above which flaunted the yellow flag of the Republic, with its device of a white stone, darting rays of red, yellow, green, and blue, in allusion to the opal, explored the prison, which held a fine collection of ruffians, and ultimately arrived at the Market Place.
It was the prettiest sight in Tlatonac, and Philip was sorry he had not the power to transfer the scene with all its varied hues and picturesque figures to paper. A square, little less large than the great Plaza, surrounded on all sides by gaily tinted houses. Reds, greens, yellows, pinks, the Plaza was girdled by a perfect rainbow, and under the gay awnings before these sat the dealers and their wares. Here were tropical fruits from the tierras calientes, comprising oranges, bananas, pineapples, melons, peaches, and an infinite variety of others, all piled in picturesque confusion on the stalls. As to flowers, the whole place was a mass of blossom, from gorgeous red cactus buds to modest bunches of violets. Owing to the geography of Mexico and Central America, the products of both temperate and tropical zones can be found flourishing at one and the same time. Hence the violets, which Philip had scarcely expected to see. They put him in mind of English woods—of the day when in the Isle of Wight, Jack told him about Dolores.
“Yes, the Indians are fond of flowers,” said Don Miguel, when Philip expressed his surprise at the profusion of blossoms. “It is a taste they inherit from their ancestors. The Aztecs, you know, were famous for floriculture. We love flowers just as passionately; and, go where you will in Tlatonac, you will find blooming gardens gay with flowers.”
“It is a graceful taste, and one which the climate enables you to gratify to the full.”
“Without doubt, Señor. We possess three climates in which flourish different products of Nature. Tlatonac is in the tierra calienti, or hot country. Higher up, on the table-lands it is less tropical, and is called the tierra templada, while the snow-clad mountain peaks, where flourish pine trees, oaks, and hemlocks, is known by the name of the tierra fria. Thus, you see, in our country we possess all the climates of the world.”
“A rare advantage. Central America is a favoured country.”
“In all save its rulers,” sighed Maraquando, regretfully. “Nor is its population what it should be. I tell you, Señor, this land should be the most powerful in the world. It is the most favoured spot on earth—the garden of Paradise; but what with our incessant civil wars, our incompetent governors, and, of late, the tyranny of the Church, the whole continent is demoralised. Ah, if we but had the man who could weld all our foolish Republics into one great nation! Then, indeed, would we be the glory of the earth.”
“Don Hypolito Xuarez evidently looks upon himself as that man.”
“Don Hypolito!” echoed Maraquando, scornfully. “No, Señor; he has the instincts of a tyrant. He would grind down the people as the Conquistadores did their ancestors. Were he pure minded and noble in his ambition, I—even I, Miguel Maraquando—would support him. I would lay aside all prejudices to aid him to make our country great. But I know the man, Don Felipe. He is a half-bred, a treacherous scoundrel, who wants to be the Santa Anna of the Republic. Let him beware of Iturbide’s fate!”
“At all events, he intends to become Emperor,” persisted Philip, calmly.
“No! The Junta has decided that he is to be banished from Cholacaca. Already the fleet is a Acauhtzin to arrest him, and to-morrow we send up a special message that he is to be brought to Tlatonac at once.”
“Suppose he refuses to come?”
“He will be brought by force.”
“Always provided the fleet do not support his cause.”
“You, too, Señor,” said Maraquando, thoughtfully; “so said Don Juan last night. It may be so, and yet I hope, for the sake of the country, that the affair may be ended at once. I believe the navy will continue faithful. My own son, Don Rafael, is in command of one ship; yet I mistrust Xuarez and his oily tongue. Yes, Señor, I have thought much since Don Juan and the Señor Corresponsãl spoke to me last night. I have conferred with His Excellency, the President. Therefore have we decided to send up a message to-morrow, ordering the return of the fleet with or without Xuarez. It does not do to trust him.”
“You have another man-of-war, then, to go to Acauhtzin.”
“No; we have a small steamer. But she is quick, and will go there and return in no time.”
“That is if she is permitted to do so,” thought Philip; but he did not say this aloud, lest Don Miguel should grow angry.
“Still, even if the fleet does revolt, we will have the torpederas,” said the Jefe, cheerfully. “They are now on their way from England. His Excellency received a telegram yesterday.”
“If you have the torpederas, you can do a good deal,” replied Philip, lighting a cigarette: “and if there is a war, Don Miguel, my yacht is at the service of the Government.”
“A thousand, thousand thanks, Señor!” said Miguel, smiling gratefully; “but I hope and trust there will be no occasion for us to ask you to make such a sacrifice. However, we shall soon know—in three days at the most. If the fleet are true to us, they will bring back Don Hypolito. If not, we shall know what steps to take to defend Tlatonac from being bombarded.”
“By the way, Señor,” said Cassim, thoughtfully, “you have a telegraph-station here. In which direction do the wires run?”
“Why do you ask, Señor?”
“Because the Señor Corresponsãl wishes constant communication with England, should there be a war. Now, if the wires go north to Acauhtzin, they can be cut by Don Hypolito.”
“That is true, Don Felipe. Fortunately they do not run north. No; the wires run south to Janjalla which town will certainly remain faithful to the Government. From thence all messages can with ease be transmitted to England.”
Philip was pleased at this, as he saw that Tim would be enabled to transmit messages to England with the greatest ease, and thus cover himself with glory. They conversed for a few minutes
