"Very well, if you put it that way, I'll join you in the messroom shortly," said I indifferently.
"That's right. Slip your things on sharp; the animals will get restive."
Alzura was in high spirits. He loved fun of all kinds, and this ball was just to his taste. Plaza and Cordova shared our carriage, and both of them rallied me on my glum looks.
"Crawford's a bloodthirsty fellow," cried Alzura banteringly—"never happy unless he's fighting!"
"That's a libel!" said I warmly; "I'm sick of the whole thing. When this war's over, I hope never to hear a shot fired again."
"Be easy," laughed Cordova; "you'll be an old man by then, and too deaf to hear even the report of a pistol."
"There may be more truth in that than you think," I observed, bitterly.
"Never mind, my boy," said Plaza; "you won't hear any shots fired to-night. There's no great harm in enjoying ourselves for an hour or two. Here we are! What a crowd outside!—Put on your mask, Alzura; the people will like the fun."
There was a roar of laughter from the spectators as Alzura, appeared, and we went into the hall amidst a round of cheering. Most of the guests wore some fanciful costume, but several officers, Miller and O'Brien among them, were in uniform.
The magnificent salons were illuminated by thousands of lights; the guests were numerous, and represented most of the beauty and wealth of Lima. My father and mother had not come, neither did I see Montilla. Rosa, of course, would have scorned to attend a ball given to the Patriots.