Her soul, moved by influences so various and so awful, became almost rebellious.

Why did God permit such cruelties?
Did He know?
Would He allow a handful of men to be overpowered by numbers?
Being omnipotent, would He not in some way, at least, make the fight equal?
The instinct of her anglo-American nature revolted at the unfairness of the struggle.

Even her ejaculations to heaven were in this spirit.

"It is so unjust," she murmured; "surely the Lord of Hosts will prevent a fight which must be a massacre." As she went about the simple preparations for their breakfast, she wept continuously--tears of indignation and sorrow--tears coming from the strength of feeling, rather than its weakness.

The Senora could eat nothing.