It was worth going through fire and flood to feel that I had won the love and worship of my wife for all time.
We walked along the gloomy calle in the direction of the cathedral of which Robbins had spoken, and all the way I saw not a single citizen abroad—without doubt they had been attracted early in the direction of the plaza, where momentous events, big with the future welfare of the country, were being enacted.
It was just as well, for I was in no humor to have my motives questioned, and perhaps it might have gone sore with any one who dared stand in the way.
Then the cathedral with its minarets and spires hove in sight.
It was lighter now.
We had reached another street, where it appeared to be public or private policy to keep lamps burning during half the night.
I looked around.
This place, at least, was not deserted.
The church doors were wide open, and I could see numerous people hastening within—whereupon I recollected that it was more or less the custom of the country to spare even enemies who threw themselves before the altar.
Many were veiled women, trembling with fear, hastening to pray for the safety of those who were near and dear to them, and who might just then be engaged in warfare at that point where the crisis of the revolution was being waged; but a few men came also, eager to seek safety within those sacred walls until morning came and brought intelligence which side had won the game.