Even her ejaculations to heaven
were in this spirit. "It is so unjust," she murmured; "surely
the Lord of Hosts will prevent a fight which must be a
massacre."
As she went about the simple preparations for their breakfast,
she wept continuously--tears of indignation and sorrow--tears
coming from the strength of feeling, rather than its weakness.
The Senora could eat nothing. Isabel was white with terror.
They wandered from window to window in the last extremity of
anxiety.
About seven o'clock they saw Ortiz pass the house. There were
so many people on the road he could not find an opportunity to
enter for some time. He had been in the city all night. He
had watched the movement of the troops in the starlight. As
he drank a cup of chocolate, he said:
"It was just three o'clock, Senorita, when the Matamoras
battalion was moved forward. General Cos supported it with
two thousand men.
"But General Cos was paroled by these same Americans who are
now in the Alamo; and his life was spared on condition that he
would not bear arms against them again."
"It is but one lie, one infamy more. When I left the city,
about four thousand men were attacking the Alamo. The
infantry, in columns, were driven up to the walls by the
cavalry which surrounded them."
"The Americans! Is there any hope for them?"
"The mercy of God remains, Senorita.
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