Scores of citizens--including the swells, that had hitherto disputed the path--went rapidly to the wall: many of them to the gutter; and next day the _banquette_ was left clear to any one wearing the uniform of "Uncle Sam." The lesson, followed by good results, had also some evil ones. Our "rank and file," taking the hint from their officers, began to knock the Poblanos about like "old boots;" while the _leperos_ finding them alone, and in solitary places, freely retaliated--on several occasions shortening the count of their messes. The game continuing, soon became perilous to an extreme degree. In daylight we might go where we pleased; but after nightfall--especially if it chanced to be a dark night--it was dangerous to set foot upon the streets. If a single officer--or even two or three--had to dine at the quarters of any remote regiment, he must needs stay all night with his hosts, or take the chance of being waylaid on his way home! In time the _lex talionis_ became thoroughly established; and a stringent order had to be issued from head-quarters: that neither soldier nor officer should go out upon the streets, without special permission from the commander of the regiment, troop, or detachment. A revolt of the "angels," whom we had by this time discovered to be very "devils," was anticipated. Hence the motive for the precautionary measure. From that time we were prohibited all out-door exercise, except such as was connected with our drill duties and parade. We were in reality undergoing a sort of mild siege! Safe sorties could only be made during the day; then only through streets proximate to the respective _cuartels_. Stragglers to remote suburbs were assaulted _sub Jove_; while after night it was not safe anywhere, beyond hail of our own sentries! A pretty pass had things come to in the City of the Angels! CHAPTER THREE. THE LADY IN THE BALCON. Notwithstanding the disagreeables above enumerated, and some others, I was not among those who would have preferred quarters in Timbuctoo. One's liking for a place often depends upon a trivial circumstance; and just such a circumstance had given me a _penchant_ for Puebla. The human heart is capable of a sentiment that can turn dirt into diamonds, or darkness to light,--at least in imagination. Under its influence the peasant's hut becomes transformed into a princely palace; and the cottage girl assumes the semblance of a queen. Possessed by this sentiment, I thought Puebla a paradise; for I knew that it contained, if not an angel, one "fair as the first that fell of womankind." As yet only on one occasion had I seen her; then only at a distance, and for a time scarce counting threescore seconds.