I supped with Francisco. The goddess Fortuna did not show any grudge
against him, for his short flirtation with the sister divinity; but, on
his return to the _monte_ table, again smiled upon him--as she did upon
myself.
By way of a change we paid our addresses to Coena and Bacchus--to the
latter more especially--keeping up our devotions to a late hour of the
night.
It did not hinder me from being early abroad on the morning after. I
saw the rose-tints upon the "White Sister," as Phoebus imprinted his
first kiss upon her snowy brow. I saw this as I entered the Calle del
Obispo--the magnificent mountain appearing like a white wall stretched
across at the termination of the street!
You will scarce ask why I was there? Only, why at such an early hour?
I could but gaze at the house--trace the frescoes on its _facade_--feast
my eyes upon inanimate objects; or, if animate, only nest-building
birds, or domestics of the mansion.
You are thinking of Park-lane--not Puebla, where the angels rise early.
In Park-lane they sleep till a late hour, having "retired" at a late
hour. In Puebla they are up with the sun, having gone to bed with the
same.
The explanation is easy. Puebla is Catholic--a city of _orisons_.
Park-lane is Protestant, and more given to midnight revels!
Had I not known the peculiarity of Mexican customs in this respect, I
should not have been traversing the "Street of the Bishop" before seven
o'clock in the morning.
But I did know them; and that the lady who, at that hour, or before it,
is not on her way to church--_capilla, parroquia_, or cathedral--is
either too old to take an interest in the _confessional_, or too humble
to care for the Church at all!
Few there are of this sort in the City of the Angels. It was not likely
that Mercedes Villa-Senor would be among the number. Her sister,
Dolores, had let me into a secret--without knowing, or intending it.
In Mexico there are two twilights--equally interesting to those who make
love by stealth. One precedes the rising, the other follows the
setting, of the sun.
It seems like reversing the order of nature to say that the former is
more favourable to the _culte_ of the god Cupid--but in Mexico it is
even so. While the Belgravian beauty lies asleep on her soft couch,
dreaming of fresh conquests, the fair Poblana is abroad upon the
streets, or kneeling before the shrine of the Virgin--in the act of
_making them_!
Early as I had sallied out, I was a little behind time. _Oracion_ bells
had commenced tolling all over the town. As I entered the Calle del
Obispo, I saw three female forms passing out at its opposite end. Two
walked side by side: the third a little behind them.
I might have permitted them to pass on without further remark, had it
not been that the great gate of the Casa Villa-Senor stood open.
The _portero_ was closing it, as if a party had just passed out; and it
could only be they who were going along the street.
The two in advance? Who should they be but the daughters of Don Eusebio
Villa-Senor?
The third I scarce spent a thought upon; or only to conjecture, that she
was _Tia Josefa_.
The Calle del Obispo had no further attractions for me. Folding my
cloak around me, I followed the trio of senoras.
A spurt of quick walking brought me close upon the heels of Tia Josefa,
and within good viewing distance of the two damsels--over whom she was
playing _duena_.
I had no longer any doubt of their being the daughters of Don Eusebio,
though both were veiled to the eyes. Over the eyes in fact: since their
shawls were carried _tapado_. Instead of hanging from the shoulder,
they were drawn across the crown of the head, and held under the chin--
so as completely to conceal the countenance!
The black Spanish eye sparkling in shadow was all that could have been
seen; though I saw it not: as I was at some distance behind them.
I saw that of Tia Josefa--as she turned, on perceiving my shadow
projected before her on the pavement.
There was a sudden glance, accompanied by the bristling of a fan, as the
maternal hen ruffles her feathers when the shadow of the hawk is seen
sailing towards her chicks.
Only for an instant was I the object of _aunt_ Josefa's suspicion. My
meek look, directed towards the "White Sister," at once reassured her.
I was not the bird of prey she had been cautioned to keep guard against:
and, after a cursory glance at me, she went on after her pair of
proteges.