The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War
Aimard, Gustave
Mexico -- History -- Wars of Independence, 1810-1821 -- Fiction
These words were uttered in a tone which admitted of no reply. The
maiden shuddered and hung her head sadly with no strength to answer.
Her mother regarded her for a moment with an expression of pity, love,
and grief impossible to describe, and pointed to the statue of the
Virgin placed in a corner of the room.
"Pray to her who has drunk to the dregs the bitter cup of sorrow; she
will have pity on you and give you the necessary courage to endure the
grief which overwhelms you."
The maiden rose slowly; she went to the chapel, and kneeling down
piously before the statue, to which she raised her tear-laden eyes, she
prayed fervently; then, at a sign from her mother, she withdrew to her
bedroom. In the evening, Doña Emilia had a conversation with Father
Sandoval, which was carried on far into the night. This conversation,
doubtless, very important, but which we will not describe here, left
a sweet and consoling impression on the mind of Doña Emilia, for her
features grew calmer, and, before retiring to rest, she gave her
daughter's pale forehead a kiss full of maternal tenderness, as she
murmured in a low voice--
"Hope!"
The girl started in her sleep, and a faint smile played round her rosy
lips.
CHAPTER XI.
THE SORTIE.
In all the countries of Spanish America the heat is so stifling during
midday, that the wise plan has been adopted of only travelling in the
morning and evening; that is to say, from sunrise till about half
past eleven, and from five in the afternoon till midnight. In this
way travelling is rendered far more convenient and less fatiguing for
travellers as well as for animals.
About ten o'clock at night, with the exception of the bivouac fires
lighted by the peons congregated in the yards and gardens, all the
lights were extinguished in turn in the hacienda, and a deep silence
soon reigned in this house, which, however, contained a thousand
persons, while a much larger number were temporarily quartered round
it. All were asleep, or seemed to sleep, with the exception of a few
sentries standing motionless on the walls, and who stood out distinctly
in the bright moonlight. The night, which was calm and starlit, was
only disturbed by that indistinct murmur which is never extinct, either
in city or desert, and is the incessantly ascending flood of life. At
times a distant growl, or a half stifled bark, showed that the wild
beasts had left their hidden dens and were wandering about the forest
in search of prey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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