"If it is to be so, I resist no longer, and I will follow you."
"Let us enter, then, for I believe here is the house."
They were, in fact, in front of No. 3.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
SAN MIGUEL DE TUCUMÁN.
San Miguel de Tucumán, the studious and calm town, whose broad streets were ordinarily almost deserted, and whose squares resembled the cloisters of an immense convent, had suddenly changed its aspect. It might have been called a vast barrack, so many soldiers of all kinds encumbered it. The quiet life of its inhabitants had been changed into feverish existence, full of noise and excitement. Men, women, children, and soldiers, mingled pell-mell at the corner of each street, and in every square, were calling out and talking in emulation of each other, gesticulating with that vivacity and animation peculiar to southern races; brandishing banners with the colours of the nation, and dragging about in all the busy streets, and close to the houses, boxes and cohetes, that supreme manifestation of joy in Spanish America.
A fête without cohetes or crackers, without fireworks, making noise and smoke, is a failure in these countries. The quantity of powder which is consumed in this way attains fabulous proportions.
We are pleased to render this justice to the Hispano-Americans—that they have no pretentiousness in their fireworks, and that they let them off artlessly, to their great contentment, as well by day under the most brilliant sun, as by night in the midst of darkness. We have even remarked that they prefer, by a refinement, no doubt, of extravagant selfish enjoyment, to let them off by daylight under the noses of the gaping crowd, that escapes half-burnt, howling and cursing at the mischievous wags, who laugh convulsively at the good turn which they have done for their admirers.