"I am certain that it will interest you," Valentine continued with a cunning air.
The count perfectly well understood that his friend only spoke to him in this way in order to foil any eavesdroppers who might be about, and was silent, for he felt certain that all would be cleared up ere long. Besides, the little party were at this moment entering the pueblo, the houses of which were beginning to open, in which the dwellers, hardly awake, saluted them as they passed with joyous and friendly smiles. After passing slowly through two or three streets, at a sign from Valentine the detachment stopped before a house of rather mean appearance, and which had nothing about it to recommend it to the attention of strangers.
"It is here," the hunter said.
They stopped and dismounted. Valentine then gave the leader of the escort strict orders to remain mounted with his men, and not stir till the count's return; then he tapped discreetly at the door, which was immediately opened. They entered, and the door was closed without their seeing anybody. They were scarcely in the house ere the hunter led his companion into a cuarto, the door of which he opened with a key he drew from his pocket.
"Follow my example," he said as he took off his vicuna hat and zarapé, which he exchanged for a cloak and a broad-brimmed straw hat. The count imitated him.
"Now come."
They wrapped themselves carefully in their cloaks, pulled their hats over their eyes, and left the house by a door cleverly hidden in the wall, which communicated with the adjoining house, through which they passed without meeting anybody, and found themselves once more in the street. But during the few minutes they remained in the house the appearance of the pueblo had completely changed. The streets were now thronged with people coming and going: at each step children and leperos were letting off fireworks with shouts of delight and bursts of laughter. Through the whole of Spanish America, and especially in Mexico, no at all respectable festival goes off without crackers and fireworks: letting off squibs is the acme of joy. We will repeat on this head a rather characteristic anecdote.
Some time after the Spaniards had been definitively expelled from Mexico, King Ferdinand one morning asked a rich Mexican who had sought refuge at the court of Spain,—
"What do you imagine your countrymen are doing at this moment, Don Luis de Cerda?"
"Sire," the Mexican replied gravely, as he bowed to the king, "they are letting off squibs."