It has never seemed to me a very cheerful matter, this drive between the lights in the formal Paseo, this great string of carriages drawn mostly by poor unhappy horses and filled with dressed-up women who stare rudely at each other as they pass and re-pass, solemn and silent ghosts in a world of grey shadow!
But the fashion amongst the Mexican women of painting and powdering to an inordinate degree perhaps accounts for their love of this hour between the lights, when they imagine the falseness of their complexion cannot be detected.
After about an hour's drive we came back, the great arc-lights now sending their uncertain, shifting glare across the road and serving to show the heavy dust through which we moved. Seen sideways, the ray of light looked solid, so thick was the atmosphere.
When we came back we dined, and then sat outside our window on the iron balcony, looking down at the gay scene below.
The street was fully lighted now by powerful lamps of electricity, some belonging to the roadway, others hung out over restaurants and shops. The latter were all open, having been closed through the middle of the day. The cafés and restaurants were in full swing, half the populace seemed in the street, either walking or driving.
"We will go to a theatre as soon as they open," I said. "I don't think any of them begin till half-past nine or ten."
Suzee clapped her hands.
"That will be nice, Treevor," she said.
"I did like the theatre in Chinatown. I went with Nanine sometimes."
So at half-past nine we drove to a theatre. The performance began at ten o'clock and continued till one in the morning, with a break in the middle for supper.