on a gilded bed, sipped chocolate and smoked a cigarrito, while Isabel, vibrant and beautiful, shared the details of her success with Antonia. The absence of Don Luis in the conversation hinted at suspicions against him, relating to his association with Americans.

The discussion turned to the perceived wickedness of Americans, with the Senora expressing strong opinions against them. Antonia defended the Americans, noting their practical use of weapons and contrasting them with the pompous Spanish soldiers. Despite her mother's disparaging remarks, Antonia restrained herself, showing patience and discretion in the face of provocation.

The chapter shifted to a reflection on the nation's builders, the men of the past who worked for the future and revered the past. Robert Worth pondered on his children's future and the legacy he wished to leave behind as he rode through the streets of San Antonio, embodying the spirit of those who built the nation.The city was flooded with sunshine, and crowded with a pack-train going to Sonora; the animals restlessly protesting against the heat and flies; their Mexican drivers in the pulqueria, spending their last peso with their compadres, or with the escort of soldiers which was to accompany them--a little squad of small, lithe men, with round, yellow, beardless faces, bearing in a singular degree the stamp of being native to the soil. Their lieutenant, a gorgeously clad officer with a very distinguished air, was coming slowly down the street to join them. He bowed, and smiled pleasantly to the doctor as he passed him, and then in a few moments the word of command and the shouting of men and the clatter of hoofs invaded the enchanted atmosphere like an insult.
But the tumult scarcely jarred with the thoughts of his mind. They had been altogether of war and rumors of war. Every hour that subtile consciousness of coming events, which makes whole communities at times prescient, was becoming stronger. "If the powers of the air have anything to do with the destinies of men," he muttered, "there must be unseen battalions around me. The air I am breathing is charged with the feeling of battle."
After leaving the city there were only a few Mexican huts on the shady road leading to his own house. All within them were asleep, even the fighting cocks tied outside were dozing on their perches. He was unusually weary, he had been riding since dawn, and his heart had not been in sympathy with his body, it had said no good cheer to it, whispered no word of courage or promise.
All at once his physical endurance seemed exhausted, and he saw the white wall and arched gateway of his garden and the turrets of his home with an inexpressible relief. But it was the hour of 

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