At Home, Before Lunch
N. came out of Guerra, having met in the corridor the immensely tall Colonel Cardenas, the best shot in Mexico. He is supposed to know just how Madero’s mortal coil was hustled off. He was in command of the squad transporting him and Pino Suarez from the Palacio to the Penitenciaría when they were shot. We then went to the third side of the Palacio Nacional, where the zapadores barracks is, to see how the officer of the Twenty-ninth, who went down with us to Vera Cruz, is getting on. It was very interesting, at twelve o’clock, to watch the various persons who bring food into the barracks. The guards search them all—men, women, and children—by passing their hands down their sides. The prettier young women get pinches or pokes anywhere the guard happens to fancy bestowing them, and they all give little squeals and jumps, sometimes annoyed, sometimes pleased. They bring in great baskets of tortillas, enchiladas, frijoles, fruits, etc. The men in the barracks are absolutely dependent on them for food, as there is no other army supply. Another guard kept off troublesome, too solicitous small boys with a bit of twisted twine, flicking them, with a stinging sound, about the legs. I found it most amusing. Finally the young captain himself came out to thank us and to tell us he was almost well—with an expectant look on his pale face. He wants N. to have him made a major. Why not, when every officer seems to have been promoted—a clever trick of Huerta’s. He has made several extra grades at the top to give himself room. He will need space for manœuvers of an army largely composed of higher officers. He is going to get the interior loan of fifty millions, with the guarantee of the Paris loan.... The Austro-Hungarian minister has just come to ask me to go out to San Angel with him, so adieu.