nd turned from the lad
to the rare view which greeted him through the open window. The dusty
road below was beginning to manifest the city's awakening. Barefooted,
brown-skinned women, scantily clad in cheap calico gowns, were
swinging along with shallow baskets under their arms to the _plaza_
for the day's marketing. Some carried naked babes astride their hips;
some smoked long, slender cigars of their own rolling. Half-clad
children of all ages, mixtures of _mestizo_, Spaniard, and Jamaican
negro, trotted along beside them; and at intervals a blustering
_cochero_ rattled around the corner in a rickety, obsolete type of
trap behind a brace of emaciated horses.

The lively gossip of the passing groups preluded the noisy chaffering
to follow their arrival at the market place.

"_Caramba_, little pig!" shrilled a buxom matron, snatching her naked
offspring away from a passing vehicle. "Think you I have money to
waste on Masses for your naughty soul?"

"_Na, senora_," bantered another, "it will cost less now than later to
get him out of purgatory."

"But, _comadre_, do you stop at the Cathedral to say a _Pater-noster_?"

"To be sure, _amiga_, and an _Ave_, too. And let us return by way of
the Hotel Espana, for, _quien sabe_? we may catch a glimpse of the
famous _matador_."

"Senor Varilla?"

"Yes. He arrived from Barranquilla last night--so my Pedro tells
me--and will fight in the arena this Sunday. I have saved fifty
_pesos_ to see him. _Madre de Dios!_ but I would sell my soul to see
him slay but a single bull. And do you go?"

"God willing!"

The soft air, tempered by the languid ocean breeze, bore aloft the
laughter and friendly bantering of the marketers, mingled with the
awakening street sounds and the morning greetings which issued from
opening doors and windows. The scent of roses and the heavier
sweetness of orchids and tropical blooms drifted over the ancient city
from its innumerable _patios_ and public gardens. The age-incrusted
buildings fused in the mounting sun into squares of dazzling white,
over which the tiled roofs flowed in cinctures of crimson. Far off at
sea the smoke of an approaching vessel wove fantastic designs against
the tinted sky. Behind the city the convent of Santa Candelaria,
crowning the hill of La Popa, glowed like a diamond; and stretching
far to the south, and merging at the foot of the _Cordilleras_ into
the gloom-shrouded, menacing jungle, the steaming llanos offered
flee