I was loth to lose the time, but there was no help for it. To have saved it, by going direct, might have resulted in the loss of our lives; or, at all events, in disaster to our expedition. Ten minutes more, and we stood behind the _maguey_. Parting its spinous leaves, and passing in between them, we obtained the desired standpoint. As I have said, the music had ceased, as also the conversation and laughter. All three had been hushed for some time--having come to a stop while we were skulking among the rhododendrons. We supposed at first, that supper had been announced to the company in the _sala grande_, and we might soon see them in the _sala de comida_. Although the preparations did not appear complete, we should have stayed to await the going in of the guests--but for what we heard from the other apartment. The sounds of merriment, abruptly brought to an end, had been succeeded by the solitary voice. It was that of a man, who appeared to speak in slow measured tones--as if addressing himself to an audience. We could hear him all the time we were changing place; and his harangue was still going on, as we came into cover among the fronds of the pulque plant. The first glance through these explained everything--why the music had ceased, and the laughter been restrained. Inside the sala a ceremony was progressing, that, under the circumstances, might well be termed solemn. It was the ceremonial of a marriage! A monk, whose robe of bluish grey proclaimed him of the order of San Francisco, was standing near the middle of the floor. I mention him first, as he was the first to come under my eye. He held a book in his hand; and was reading from it the ritual of marriage--according to the Romish Church. My eyes did not dwell upon him for a single second. They went in search of the bride, and bridegroom. A little shifting among the leaves brought me face to face with the latter. Imagine my astonishment on beholding Francisco Moreno! It was scarcely increased when I obtained a view of the bride. A presentiment--sad, almost stifling--had prepared me for seeing Dolores Villa-Senor. It was she! I could not see her face. She was standing with her back towards the window. Besides, a white scarf, thrown loosely over her crown, and draping down to her waist, hindered even a side view of it. There could be no doubt about its being Dolores. There was no mistaking that magnificent form--even when seen _en detras_. She it was, standing at the altar! A wide space separated the bridegroom from the bride. I could not tell who, or what, was between. It appeared a little odd; but I supposed it might be the fashion of the country. Behind _him_ were other figures--all men--all in costumes that proclaimed a peculiar calling. They were _brigands_. Francisco only differed from the rest in being more splendidly attired. But then he was their chief!