lemn retrospect of the
sorrows and mercies and triumphs of the campaign they had shared
together. This latter feeling soon dominated all others.

The delicious light, the sensuous atmosphere, the white turrets and
towers of the city, shining on the horizon like some mystical, heavenly
city in dreams--the murmur of its far-off life, more audible to the
spiritual than the natural ears--the dark figures of the camp servants,
lying in groups or quietly shuffling their cards, were all elements
conducive to a grave yet happy seriousness.

No one intended to sleep. They were to rest in the moonlight until
the hour of eleven, and then make their last stage. This night they
instinctively kept close together. The Senora had mentally reached that
point where it was not unpleasant to talk over troubles, and to amplify
especially her own share of them.

"But, Holy Maria!" she said; "how unnecessary are such sorrows! I
am never, in the least, any better for them. When the Divine Majesty
condescends to give me the sunshine of prosperity, I am always
exceedingly religious. On the contrary when I am in sorrow, I do not
feel inclined to pray. That is precisely natural. Can the blessed Mother
expect thanks, when she gives her children only suffering and tears?"

"God gives us whatever is best for us, dear mother."

"Speak, when you have learned wisdom, Antonia. I shall always believe
that trouble comes from the devil; indeed, Fray Ignatius once told me
of a holy man that had one grief upon the heels of the other, and it was
the devil who was sent with all of them. I have myself no doubt that
he opened the gates of hell for Santa Anna to return to earth and do a
little work for him."

"This thought makes me tremble," said Lopez; "souls that have become
angelic, can become evil. The degraded seraphim, whom we call the
devil, was once the companion of archangels, and stood with Michael, and
Raphael, and Gabriel, in the presence of the Holy One. Is there sin in
heaven? Can we be tempted even there?"

The inquiry went in different ways to each heart, but no one answered
it. There were even a few moments of constrained, conscious silence,
which Luis happily ended, by chanting softly a verse from the hymn of
the Three Angels:

"'WHO LIKE THE LORD?' thunders Michael the Chief.
Raphael, 'THE CURE OF GOD,' bringeth relief,
And, as at Nazareth, prophet of peace,
Gabriel, 'THE LIGHT OF GOD,' bringet