Isabel had already exhausted
tears. The Senora, with her crucifix in her hand, was praying
for the poor unfortunates dying without prayer.
During the afternoon, smoke and flame, and strange and
sickening odors were blown northward of the city, and for some
time it seemed probable that a great conflagration would
follow the battle. How they longed for some one to come! The
utmost of their calamity would be better than the intolerable
suspense. But hour after hour went past, and not even Ortiz
arrived. They began to fear that both he and Navarro had been
discovered in some disloyalty and slain, and Antonia was
heartsick when she considered the helplessness of their
situation.
Still, in accordance with Navarro's instructions, they dressed
for the contemplated journey, and sat in the dark, anxiously
listening for footsteps. About eleven o'clock Navarro and
Ortiz came together. Ortiz went for the horses, and Navarro
sat down beside, the Senora. She asked him, in a low voice,
what had taken place, and he answered:
"Everything dreadful, everything cruel, and monstrous, and
inhuman! Among the angels in heaven there is sorrow and anger
this night." His voice had in it all the pathos of tears, but
tears mingled with a burning indignation.
"The Alamo has fallen!"
"Senorita Antonia, I would give my soul to undo this day's
work.
Pages:
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266