Priests, Mexicans,
Indians and Americans touched each other on the narrow
thoroughfares, but that indescribable feeling of good will
which comes with Christmas pervaded the atmosphere, and gave,
even in the midst of war and danger, a sense of anticipated
pleasure.
At the Worth residence there was a household feast. The
Senora and her daughters were in full dress. They were
waiting for the dear ones who had promised to join them at the
Angelus. One by one the houses around were illuminated.
Parties of simple musicians began to pass each other
continually--they were going to serenade the blessed Mary all
night long. As Antonia closed the balcony window, half a
dozen of these young boys passed the garden hedge singing to
the clacking of their castanets--
"This is the eve of Christmas,
No sleep from night to morn,
The Virgin is in travail,
At twelve will the Child be born."
Luis appeared at the same moment. He caught up the wild
melody and came up the garden path singing it. Dare and the
doctor followed him. It struck Antonia that they were
talking of a change, or of something important. But there was
no time for observation. Isabel, radiant in crimson satin,
with her white mantilla over her head, darted forward to meet
Luis, and turned his song to the Virgin into a little
adulation for herself.
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