I resumed my melancholy march behind Perico, followed by my horse, which I led by the bridle, as, by the police regulations of Mexico, no one is allowed to ride through the streets after Angelus has rung, and I was unwilling to try another fall with the alcaldes. Shall I confess it? My curiosity was roused by the words of my guide, and I decided at this moment not to separate from him. I wanted to know what a velorio was; and this love of novelty, which finds so many opportunities of satisfying itself in Mexico, once more made me forget my troubles.
We had not walked ten minutes, till, as the sereno had told us, we came to a bridge thrown over a narrow canal. Some dilapidated houses bathed their greenish bases in the thick muddy water. A lamp which burned dimly before a picture of the souls in Purgatory threw its livid reflex on the stagnant water. On the terraces the watch-dogs bayed at the moon, which was sometimes hidden, sometimes fringed only by a movable curtain of clouds, for it was the rainy season. Except those doleful sounds, all was silent there as in the other parts of the town that we had traversed. The windows in the first story, brightly lighted up opposite the picture of the souls in Purgatory, were the only things remarkable in this double row of melancholy-looking huts. Perico knocked at the door of the house with the illuminated windows. They were rather long in coming; at last the door half opened, one of the leaves being fastened as usual by an iron chain.
"Friends who come to pray for the dead and rejoice with the living," said Perico, without hesitation.
We entered. Lighted by the porter's lantern, we passed through a porch and entered an inner court. The guide pointed out to Perico an iron ring let into the wall. I tied my horse up by the bridle; we ascended some twenty steps, and I entered, preceded by Perico, a room tolerably well lighted up. I was at last going to learn what a _velorio_ was.
[8] Alameda, a general name for a public walk; literally, a place planted with poplars, _alamos_.
[9] The name of the viceroy who presented it to the town.
The company to which Perico had introduced me presented a very singular appearance. About twenty men and women of the lowest class were seated in a circle, chatting, bawling, and gesticulating. A dank, cadaverous smell pervaded the apartment, which was hardly smothered by the smoke of cigars, and the fumes of Xeres and _Chinguirito_. In a corner of the room stood a table loaded with provisions of every sort, with cups, bottles, and flasks. Some gamblers, seated at a table a little farther off, jingling copper money, and shouting out the technical terms of _monte_, were quarreling, with drunken excitement, over piles of _cuartillas_[10] and _tlacos_. Under the triple excitement of wine, women, and play, the orgie, which had only commenced when I arrived, seemed likely to mount to a formidable height; but what struck me most was precisely that which seemed to engage the attention of the assembly least. A young child, who seemed to have scarcely reached his seventh year, was lying at full length on a table. His pale brow, wreathed with flowers faded by the heat of the stifling atmosphere, his glazed eyes, and shriveled, sunken cheeks, already tinged with a violet hue, plainly showed that life had left him, and that it was some days, probably, since he had slept the eternal sleep. The mere sight of the little corpse was heartrending amid the cries, the gambling, and the noisy conversation; the men and women meanwhile laughing and singing like savages. The flowers and jewels which decorated him, far from stripping death of its gloomy solemnity, only made the appearance more hideous. A general silence followed our entrance. A man, in whom I soon recognized the master of the house and the father of the dead child, rose to receive us. His face, far from being oppressed with sadness, seemed, on the contrary, radiant with delight, and he pointed with an air of pride to the numerous guests that had assembled to celebrate the death of his son, an event considered as a favor from heaven, since God had been pleased to call the child to himself before he was old enough to displease him. He assured us that we were welcome to his house, and that to him, on such an occasion, strangers became friends. Thanks to the loquacity of Perico, I had become the focus on which all eyes were centred. I had a difficult part to play, Perico thinking it right to make it appear to all who would listen to him that no one could kill people with a better grace than I. To enable me to act my part properly, I hastened to put my gloves in my pocket, and affect the most cavalier assurance, convinced that it was prudent to follow the fashion.