Good news, like bad, is propagated with extraordinary rapidity. Let anyone who can solve the almost insoluble problem, but it is certain that the battle was scarce terminated at Toluca, ere its issue was known in Mexico. The rumour of the brilliant success gained by the President immediately ran from mouth to mouth, though no one could tell whence he obtained it. At the news of this unhoped-for victory, the joy was universal, enthusiasm raised to its utmost pitch, and at nightfall the citizens spontaneously illuminated. The ayuntamiento awaited the President at the entrance of the city to offer him their congratulations. The troops marched between two compact lines of people, uttering frenzied shouts, waving handkerchiefs and hats, and letting off any quantity of squibs, in sign of rejoicing. The bells, in spite of the late hour, rang a full peal, and the numerous shovel hats of the clergy mingled with the crowd, proved that the priests and monks, so cold on the previous day for the man who had ever supported them, had suddenly felt their slumbering enthusiasm aroused at the news of his victory.
Miramón passed through the crowds, cold and impassive, returning with an imperceptible expression of irony the salutations incessantly made to him on both sides of the road. He dismounted at the palace; a little in front of the gate a man was standing motionless and smiling. This man was the adventurer. On seeing him, Miramón could not restrain a movement of joy.
"Ah, come, come, my friend," he exclaimed walking toward him.
And, to the general stupefaction, he passed his arm through his and led him into the interior of the palace. When the President reached the private cabinet, in which he usually worked, he threw himself into an easy chair, and wiping with a handkerchief his damp face, he exclaimed with an ill-tempered tone: "Ouf! I am half dead! This stupid recantation, at which I was forced to be present against my will has, on my honour, wearied me more than all the other events of this day, futile though it was in extraordinary incidents."
"Good," the adventurer replied affectionately. "I am glad to hear you speak thus, General. I was afraid lest you might be intoxicated by your success."
The general shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.
"What do you take me for, my friend?" he answered. "What a wretched opinion you must have of me, if you suppose that I am a man to let myself be thus blinded by a success which, brilliant though it may appear, is in reality only one victory more to register, while its results will be null for the welfare of the cause I support?"
"What you say is only too true, General."
"Do you fancy I am ignorant of it? My downfall is inevitable: this battle will only retard it for a few days. I must fall, because, in spite of the enthusiastic shouts of the mob—ever fickle and easy to deceive—what has hitherto constituted my strength, and has sustained me in the struggle I undertook, has abandoned me for ever. I feel that the temper of the nation is no longer with me."
"Perhaps you go too far, General! Two battles more like this one, and who knows if you will not have regained all you have lost?"