“Mil gracias, Señor! The grace and honour are all given to us. Two such valientes, as I know you to be, will be no slight acquisition to our strength. And now, may I ask you to assume the garb which, as you see, is our present uniform? That by way of precaution for the time. You’ll find suitable raiment inside. I’ve given Gregorio orders to get it ready. So you see, Camarades, I’ve been counting upon you.”
“Gehosofat!” exclaimed the Texan, when told of the dress he was expected to put on. “What wi’ New Orleens store close, an’ prison duds, an’ the like, this chile hev had a goodish wheen o’ changes since he stripped off his ole huntin’ shirt. An’ now a-goin’ in for a monk! Wal; tho’ I mayn’t be the most sanctified, I reck’n I’ll be the tallest in thar mon’stery.”
Chapter Forty Six.
Saint Augustine of the Caves.
One of the pleasantest villages in the valley of Mexico is San Augustin de las Cuevas—Tlalpam by Aztec designation—both names due to some remarkable caverns in the immediate neighbourhood. It is some ten or twelve miles from the capital, on the southern or Acapulco road, just where this, forsaking the valley level, begins to ascend the Sierra, passing over which by Cruz del Marques, it continues on through the tierras calentes of Cuernavaca and Guerrero to the famed port of the Pacific.
San Augustin is a pueblo, endowed with certain municipal privileges. It boasts of an alcalde-mayor with other corporate officers, and a staff of alguezils, or policemen.
The heads of departments are mostly men of pure Spanish race—“gente de razon,” as they proudly proclaim themselves—though many are in reality of mixed blood, Mestizos. Of this are the better class of shopkeepers, few in number, the gente de razon at best forming a scarce discernible element in the population, which is mainly made up of the brown aborigines.
At a certain season of the year, however, paler complexions show in the ascendant. This during carnival time—“Las Pascuas.” Then the streets of San Augustin are crowded with gay promenaders; while carriages and men on horseback may be seen in continuous stream passing to and fro between it and the capital. In Las Pascuas week, one day with another, half Mexico is there engaged in a gambling orgie, as Londoners at Epsom during the Derby. More like Homburg and Monaco, though; since the betting at Tlalpam is not upon the swiftness of horses, but done with dice and cards. The national game, “monté,” there finds fullest illustration, grand marquees being erected for its play—real temples erected to the goddess Fortuna. Inside these may be seen crowds of the strangest composition, in every sense heterogeneous; military officers, generals and colonels, down to the lowest grade, even sergeants and corporals, sitting at the same table and staking on the same cards; members of Congress, Senators, Cabinet Ministers, and, upon occasions, the Chief of the State, jostling the ragged lepero, and not unfrequently standing elbow to elbow with the footpad and salteador!—Something stranger still, ladies compose part of this miscellaneous assemblage; dames of high birth and proud bearing, but in this carnival of cupidity not disdaining to “punt” on the sota or cavallo, while brushing skirts with bare-armed, barefooted rustic damsels, and poblanas, more elaborately robed, but with scantier reputation.