had opened the window a little. Looking out into the darkness of the night, I tried to find out, by the stars, what o'clock it was, and also to trace my way mentally through the labyrinth of streets, but I could scarcely see a bit of the sky, which on that night was cloudy, above the tops of the neighboring houses. I never remembered to have seen in Mexico before this canal with its leaden waters, nor those dark, deserted lanes which ran at right angles to it. I was completely at fault. Should I remain any longer amid this hideous orgie? Ought I not to try to escape, even though it was dangerous, through the streets of this distant suburb? While I was irresolutely weighing all these things in my mind, a noise of steps and confused whispers attracted my attention. I hid myself behind one of the shutters, so as to see and hear without being seen. Half a dozen men soon issued from a lane in front of the house in which I was. Their leader was wrapped in an esclivina.[1] which only half concealed the scabbard of his sword. The others were armed with naked sabres. A European but newly arrived in the country would have considered them criminals from their timid deportment, but my experienced eye could not be deceived; justice alone could seem so terrified, and I easily recognized the night patrol, composed of a regidor, an auxiliary alcalde, and four celadores.
"Voto a brios!" said the man in the esclavina, probably one of the auxiliary magistrates, at once alcaldes and publicans, who lodge criminals during the day, and let them off to pursue them at night; "what does my Lord Prefect mean by sending us to patrol in such a quarter as this, where the officers of justice
- ↑ A small frock-coat, a short cloak.
