iron fate which it would be
impossible to resist or evade. For a long time profound silence reigned
among these thousands and tens of thousands--a silence broken only by an
occasional indistinct murmur or sigh, which found, however, neither reply
nor echo.

A group that had stationed itself on a projection of the hillock over
which winds the road from Mexico to Ajotla, at last had its attention
attracted by a party of horsemen approaching from the direction of Buen
Vista. This sight, although by no means unusual on that frequented road,
appeared to interest the Leperos. They raised their heads, gazed a while
at the riders, gave a kind of growl, like dogs who perceive something
strange or suspicious, and then for the most part stretched themselves out
again. Some, however, continued to mutter and grumble, and at last began
to utter audible curses.

"Ahuitzote!" exclaimed one of the Guachinangos, rising to his feet, and
fixing the oblique gaze of his eyes, which were set wide apart, upon the
distant horsemen.

"Ahuitzote!" repeated his companions--the last syllable of the word
seeming to stick in their throats.

"I was lying yesterday under the _portales_," murmured an Indian, "when
Agostino Iturbide came by"----

He was too indolent to finish what he would have said; but a glance at his
legs and shoulders, which were bloody and scarred with sabre cuts,
completed his meaning.

"The earth belongs to Tonantzin,[8] the heavens to the Virgin of
Guadalupe, and the _portales_ to the red men," said another Indian. "The
day will come when no Gachupin shall drive us out of them."

"And when the sons of Tenochtitlan shall have pulque for their drink,"
muttered a third.

"And tortillas with fat chili for their food," chimed in a fourth.
"_Maldito Don Agostino!_ He is more the Ahuitzote of the children of
Tenochtitlan than the Gachupins themselves."

During this dialogue, an old Indian of powerful frame had ascended the
hillock, and squatted himself down on one of the blocks of lava with which
the ground was strewed. The other Leperos seemed to regard him with a
certain degree of respect and attention, and, after muttering the name of
Tatli Ixtla,[9] they remained silent, as if expecting him to speak. As
this, however, did not immediately follow, they let their heads sink
again, and relapsed into their previous state of brooding apathy.

The Indian gazed mysteriously around him, lit a cigar, and, after a few
puffs, broke