Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1889-01-17
The Legend of La LlOTOna.

1t was 3 o'clock in the morning. The
bells of the cathedral and the palace, faI
away, struck the hour, as we traversed a
lonely, silent street toward the suburbs
of Mexico. We had been keeping vigil
with wounded man, a compatriot OF
mine, and had overstayed our watch, fol
he was frantic with delirium, and we
feared to transfer him to the care of the
inexperienced and rather careless persons
who should succeed us.
We walked on briskly, for it was long
hours past the time when coaches and
tram-cars had ceased plying. We were
in San Cosme, and in front of the great
massive structure which the wife of ex-
Marshal Bazaine has claimed from the
government as an imperial gift to her
traitorous husband. The facade of this
edifice curves in such fashion as to form
an offset or alcove on the street, and be-
fore we reached it, / fancied l saw a
woman's figure stealing along in its
denser shadow, and l felt thrill of
compassion for her, as one of the poor
children of the night. She was not to
be seen when we came near the spot,
but moment later a piercing cry rang
out near us-a long drawn wall of suf-
fering and horror.
l grasped the arm of my comrade.
''SOme woman in distress-we must go
70 hn% onI
thank heavenr'
But he threw his arm about me, and
forced me forward at a quick pace that
was almost run; and so unexpected
was the move that l had been pushed
along some rods ere could offer resist
ance.
"Come on! come onr' he whispered
hoarsely, as L shook myself free from his
clasp, "we must hasten! We must GO
on quicklyW
81 would not have believed you could
desert a fellow creature in troubler'
cried with Indignation, land beyond all
woman. 1t is nOtli you, Federico. y
For had seen his courage tried by ven
omous serpents in terra cdIiente, and
in encounters with highwayman in the
Sierras, and had heard of his GOODNESS
and daring in combat with Apaches
in Northern Chihuahua.
"Hushl hush" he answered painting.
"You know not of what you speak. We
abandon no mortal woman-the voice
you hear is the cry of La Llorona. Look
yonder at the Sere1O!"
We were near one of the points where
watchman stands all night in the mid
die of the thOroughfare, and, following
my companions gesture, 1 saw the of
ficer, fallen upon his knees in the circle
of light cast by his lantern; the great
capuchin hood of his cape was pulled
over his head, and every line of his fig
ure betokened abject fear and horror
There was something uncanny in the
sight, for the policemen of Mexico are
not impressionable material. And
through the silent, empty street those
dreadful cries still went ringing wildly
surely sufficient motive for such dis
play of terror. The sound seemed to
float away, and down a by-street toward
the equestrian statue of Charles ~,
growing fainter and fainter in the dis
tance.
"Let MS go" said my companion; 'yes
| am a materialist, and | sneer at spirit
ualism, and ghosts, and phantoms; but
nevertheless, l think there is not a man
or woman in Mexico who would not
tremble at the voice of LuiSa La Lilo
roma"
x
In the year of our Lord, 1884, Luisa
Haro was called the most beautiful girl
in Mexico, and the most modest. HeI
father had brought her from Spain when
she was ten years old, and, dying foul
years later, had left her utterly without
kindred, so far as was known to herself
or her neighbors. She was a clever
needle woman, and maker of artificial
flowers, and her skill found ready en-
ployment for churchly uses, nOtwith-
standing the enormous quantity of such
work done in the converts. She had
her little home-nest in lonely by street
almost like an alley, in the shadow OF
the cloister walls of one of the guilds
that chiefly employed her, and here she
lived, forlOrnly enough, indeed, as is the
fate of woman who dwells quite alone;
but her days were virtuouS and tranquil
Naught mattered it to her that the gal
lants came stealing at nightfall into that
-of-the-way corner, and tenanted the
midnight darkness of its dusty, narrow
passage. Her shutters were closed and
barred ere the darkness gathered, and
none of the delicate, scented fingers that
tapped on those clumsy defenses ever
sounded the "Open Sesame!" to the girl
they sheltered. Luisa was the despair
of all the gay, dissolute blades of the
vfce-regal court of New Spain. HeI
neighbors in the lonely by-street were
wont to point her out with a strange
admixture of feelings, uncertain wheth-
er to respect and recommend her severe
rectitude, or to disparage her, as one who
is denied the natural passions and pleas
ant frailties of humanity.
But change came about when the
girl was something over 20 years old
1t began to be whispered by the gossips
of the neighbOrhOod that the shutters OF
LuiSa's window now creaked slightly
open, and her voice was heard in con-
verse with one who came not tentatively
and doubling, but with the confident,
assured step of man who knows the
welcome that awaits him. And soon ii
was told about, originating in one of the
vague, indefinite ways in which such
things do transpire, that this complacent
wooer was Nuno, Marquis of Monies
Claros. So it was that Luisa assumed a
new Importance in the eyes of those
about her, as will ever happen, under
like conditions.