In the morning the doctor was called very early by someone needing his skill. Antonia heard the swift footsteps and eager voices, and watched him mount the horse always kept ready saddled for such emergencies, and ride away with the messenger. The incident in itself was a usual one, but she was conscious that her soul was moving uneasily and questioningly in some new and uncertain atmosphere.

She had felt it on her first entrance into Senora Valdez's gran sala--a something irrepressible in the faces of all the men present. She remembered that even the servants had been excited, and that they stood in small groups, talking with suppressed passion and with much demonstrativeness. And the officers from the Alamo! How conscious they had been of their own importance! What airs of condescension and of an almost insufferable protection they had assumed! Now, that she recalled the faces of Judge Valdez, and other men of years and position, she understood that there had been in them something out of tone with the occasion. In the atmosphere of the festa she had only felt it. In the solitude of her room she could apprehend its nature.

For she had been born during those stormy days when Magee and Bernardo, with twelve hundred Americans, first flung the banner of Texan independence to the wind; when the fall of Nacogdoches sent a thrill of sympathy through the United States, and enabled Cos and Toledo, and the other revolutionary generals in Mexico, to carry their arms against Old Spain to the very doors of the vice-royal palace. She had heard from her father many a time the whole brave, brilliant story--the same story which has been made in all ages from the beginning of time. Only the week before, they had talked it over as they sat under the great fig-tree together.The doctor's words about history repeating itself resonated with Antonia as she watched her father ride away. She reflected on the long struggle for liberty, understanding that it required more than just the sword; patience and courage were essential. The memory of past patriots and visionaries who sowed the seeds of freedom stirred her soul.

As she recited her prayers, the sun rose, bathing her in its golden light, and the sounds of morning filled the air. She had breakfast alone, as was the usual practice in their household. The doctor's belief that too much chatter at breakfast led to a dull day had become a superstition for Antonia.

Meanwhile, in the Senora's room, her mother and sister reveled in a recent triumph, their laughter and conversation spilling out into the hallway. The Senora, lounging 

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