"Going! but where will you go?"
"Anywhere where I can be of more use than here. I cannot stop to see the disgrace of my native city. To-morrow the English will march in in triumph, with their flags flaunting in the air, and their music playing before them. They will march through these streets of ours I tell you, mother; the English flag will fly from the flag-staff in the fort to-morrow, and Buenos Aires will be an English city. Our Buenos Aires, my mother, will be an English city, an English conquest."
"To what God sends there is nothing but resignation, Marcelino."
"God has nothing to do with it, mother; Spain has decreed that we are slaves and not men. Had we been men, do you think a handful of English could take a city like this?"
"They took us by surprise, when we were not ready for them. Wait till Sobremonte has time to collect troops, he will soon drive them back again to their ships."
"Sobremonte! If you had seen him at the fort to-day, mother, you would not have much hope from him. The most helpless old woman would have been as much use as he was to-day. The only man to whom we can look now is Liniers. Sobremonte and all the rest will give up their swords and swear fidelity to Great Britain to-morrow."
"So your father told me just now, Marcelino; he says it is the only thing they can do."
"He is a Spaniard, and thinks as a Spaniard; of course he must go with the rest. Thank God I am not a Spaniard."
"The Spaniards will soon drive the English out again. Huidobro will send troops from Monte Video, or they will send an army from Spain."