lately occupied by the battery of the enemy.
Don Hypolito had disappeared, his army, broken to pieces, was flying in all directions. From the triumphant army massed round the sandhills, rose a roar of joy which made the earth tremble. The wind which had blown away the smoke, shook out the folds of the opal flag, and the Cholacacans saluted the invincible banner with cheers.
“Viva el opale! Viva el Republica!”
Chapter IX.
The Triumph of the Republic
Mars, god of war,
Whom we abhor,
Hath doffed his helm,
And laid his lance and shield aside.
He will no more
Lay waste our store,
Nor overwhelm
Our lands beneath his crimson tide.
Mars, god of war, Peace comes anon,
Now war hath gone,
Her olive bough
Of gentleness and quiet she brings
Beneath her sway,
No deadly fray
Can fright us now;
From battle plains the harvest springs.
Three weeks after that memorable victory at Centeotl, the city of Tlatonac was holding high festival in honour of the triumphant Junta. Every street was illuminated and decorated with flowers. In the principal places, fireworks, so dear to the hearts of the Cholacacans were being let off, and the ships lying in the harbour were brilliant with lights. The populace in their gayest attire walked singing through the streets, visited the pulque shops, and gathered in groups to indulge in their national dances. Bands stationed in different squares, played the Opal Fandango, The March of Zuloaga, and soldiers, the heroes of the hour, were to be seen everywhere, being fêted and caressed by the grateful citizens.
Before the Palacio Nacional a dense crowd had collected, and the place itself, brilliantly lighted up, was occupied by a gaily dressed throng. His Excellency the President was giving a ball in honour of the establishment of peace. On one of the balconies Jack and Dolores were seated, watching the varied throng below, and talking of past events. For the hundredth time Dolores was asking Jack about the battle, and all that had taken place thereat.
“I am sure, Dolores, you must be wearied of this more than twice-told tale.”
“No, Juanito! It is a tale of which I never weary. Come, querido, tell me once more. Begin, ‘After the battle——’”
“After the battle,” repeated Jack, humouring her fancy. “Well, the first thing we did after the battle was to search for the body of Don Xuarez. He had been last seen on the summit of the sandhill by his battery. When the reinforcements took that position by storm, Xuarez vanished, and though we searched everywhere for his body, it could not be found.”
“So then you knew that he had escaped?”
“It was presumed so; but even now we are not certain as to what has become of him. However, he had vanished; and giving up the search for him, dead or alive, in despair, General Benito left a few hundred men to garrison Centeotl, and pushed on at once to Janjalla. In the harbour we found the fleet, which had captured the town by bombarding it, and Captain Pedraza, under instructions from Benito, took the ships back to Tlatonac.”
“Ah, I remember how joyful we were when they entered the harbour and announced the victory. Everyone in Tlatonac was mad with joy.”
“Dios! They are mad enough to-night,” said Jack, smiling, as he looked down on the crowd; “but under the circumstances, I think it is excusable. The fall of Acauhtzin, the last stronghold of the Opposidores, is worth being excited about. Did Rafael tell you all about it, Dolores?”
“Not so much as he might have done,” pouted Dolores, unfurling her fan; “but you see, Juan, there is Doña Carmencita——”
“Of course! Poor girl! Fancy her father being killed when the city was being bombarded!”
“A great loss, was it not?” sighed Dolores, her eyes filling with tears. “Ay di mi. How sad would I feel had I lost my dear uncle.”
“It is the fortune of war,” said Jack, calmly. “Instead of our troops capturing Acauhtzin and killing Tejada, it might have been Xuarez storming Tlatonac and shooting Don Miguel. One thing, at least, Doña Carmencita has to be grateful for: Rafael rescued her unharmed from the burning city, and now she is to be his wife.”
“And I am to be yours!”
“Yes; and Eulalia is to be Philip’s,” finished Jack, promptly. “I thought Don Miguel would never give his consent to that marriage.”
“Eh, Juanito!” said Dolores, with a mischievous smile, “I think my uncle did so to console Don Felipe for losing his chance of being at the battle.”
“Poor Philip! Only one battle of any consequence, and he missed it by being away at Truxillo.”
At this moment Dolores was summoned away from her lover by Doña Serafina. The old lady was a very severe duenna when not asleep, and as Dolores was yet unmarried, did not approve of her being too much in the society of her future husband. A little jealousy was mingled with this strict regard for etiquette, as Doña Serafina had utterly failed to fascinate Peter. All her smiles and insinuating remarks had been quite thrown away on the little doctor, who showed no disposition for matrimony, and scrupulously ignored the languishing looks of his elderly admirer. Finally, Serafina gave up the pursuit of this medical male as a bad job, and revenged herself indirectly on the sex by being particularly sharp with Eulalia and Dolores, both of whom were rarely permitted to be more than a few minutes with their respective lovers. These last blamed Peter in no measured terms for thus depriving them of the society of their future wives; but the doctor absolutely refused to sacrifice himself any longer on the altar of friendship. He announced this in a conversation which took place in the patio of Casa Maraquando after the ball.
“I would do anything for you I could,” he explained plaintively to Jack and Philip; “but I really cannot go on paying attention to Doña Serafina. She thinks I am in earnest!”
“And so you ought to be, you little monster,” said Tim, quickly. “It’s time you were married.”
“Well, then, why don’t you set the example?”
“It’s easy talking! I have no one to love me.”
“Journalism is a jealous mistress,” observed Philip, laughing. “Tim is devoted to ‘Articles from a Special Correspondent.’”
“True for you,” replied Tim, complacently; “but my occupation’s gone. Didn’t I send my last article about ‘The Fall of Acauhtzin’ from Janjalla? and isn’t the war over?”
“The
