And yet we did not run the gauntlet altogether unscathed—not all of us. Some received wounds in the course of that triumphal entry, that rankled long after.
They were wounds of the heart, inflicted by those soft love-speaking eyes, for which the Poblana is peculiar.
I can testify to one heart thus sweetly scathed.
The fatigued Foot grounded arms in the Piazza Grande. The detached squadrons of cavalry scoured the deserted streets in search of soldiers’ quarters.
Guided by the displaced authorities, the cuartels were soon discovered; and, before night, a new régime ruled the City of the Angels. The priest had given place to the soldier!