You will scarce ask why I was there? Only, why at such an early hour? I could but gaze at the house--trace the frescoes on its _facade_--feast my eyes upon inanimate objects; or, if animate, only nest-building birds, or domestics of the mansion. You are thinking of Park-lane--not Puebla, where the angels rise early. In Park-lane they sleep till a late hour, having "retired" at a late hour. In Puebla they are up with the sun, having gone to bed with the same. The explanation is easy. Puebla is Catholic--a city of _orisons_. Park-lane is Protestant, and more given to midnight revels! Had I not known the peculiarity of Mexican customs in this respect, I should not have been traversing the "Street of the Bishop" before seven o'clock in the morning. But I did know them; and that the lady who, at that hour, or before it, is not on her way to church--_capilla, parroquia_, or cathedral--is either too old to take an interest in the _confessional_, or too humble to care for the Church at all! Few there are of this sort in the City of the Angels. It was not likely that Mercedes Villa-Senor would be among the number. Her sister, Dolores, had let me into a secret--without knowing, or intending it. In Mexico there are two twilights--equally interesting to those who make love by stealth. One precedes the rising, the other follows the setting, of the sun. It seems like reversing the order of nature to say that the former is more favourable to the _culte_ of the god Cupid--but in Mexico it is even so. While the Belgravian beauty lies asleep on her soft couch, dreaming of fresh conquests, the fair Poblana is abroad upon the streets, or kneeling before the shrine of the Virgin--in the act of _making them_! Early as I had sallied out, I was a little behind time. _Oracion_ bells had commenced tolling all over the town. As I entered the Calle del Obispo, I saw three female forms passing out at its opposite end. Two walked side by side: the third a little behind them. I might have permitted them to pass on without further remark, had it not been that the great gate of the Casa Villa-Senor stood open. The _portero_ was closing it, as if a party had just passed out; and it could only be they who were going along the street. The two in advance? Who should they be but the daughters of Don Eusebio Villa-Senor? The third I scarce spent a thought upon; or only to conjecture, that she was _Tia Josefa_. The Calle del Obispo had no further attractions for me. Folding my cloak around me, I followed the trio of senoras. A spurt of quick walking brought me close upon the heels of Tia Josefa, and within good viewing distance of the two damsels--over whom she was playing _duena_.