There was scarcely any music in the streets, while the agreeable noises of the kitchen were not to be heard in all the houses, which the youth ascribed to the fact that for some time things had been going badly, the sugar did not bring a good price, the rice crops had failed, over half the live stock had died, but the taxes rose and increased for some inexplicable reason, while the abuses of the Civil Guard became more frequent to kill off the happiness of the people in the towns.
He was just pondering over this when an energetic "Halt!" resounded.

They were passing in front of the barracks and one of the guards had noticed the extinguished lamp of the carromata, which could not go on without it.

A hail of insults fell about the poor cochero, who vainly excused himself with the length of the procession.

He would be arrested for violating the ordinances and afterwards advertised in the newspapers, so the peaceful and prudent Basilio left the carromata and went his way on foot, carrying his valise.

This was San Diego, his native town, where he had not a single relative.
The only, house wherein there seemed to be any mirth was Capitan Basilio's.