Señora Tassara was saying something in a very low voice to Zuroaga, when Felicia turned to Ned and said to him:
“You are a wicked gringo, but I like you pretty well and I do hope you will get away safely. Take good care of yourself.”
“Well, señorita,” replied Ned, “I will do that, and so must you. I’d rather be out among the mountains than here in the city. You’d be safer there, too. Anyhow, you are not a Mexican. You are a Spaniard and you would rather be in Spain.”
“Maybe I would, just now,” she told him with a very melancholy look in her brilliant black eyes. “But I do love Mexico, and I do know enough to wish we were not to have any more revolutions. That is, not any more after Paredes and Santa Anna and some other men have been killed.”
“That is the way they all feel about each other,” broke in the general. “Come, Carfora. We have horses waiting for us on one of the back streets.”
There were a few hasty good-bys then. The three fugitives passed out of sight among the shadows of the buildings, and the women returned to the house to wait for the downfall of King or Emperor Paredes.