His mood of exaltation was passing.

No one could remain keyed to that pitch many hours.

Overwhelming grief and despair came in its place.

His mind raged against everything, against the cruelty of Santa Anna, who had hoisted the red flag of no quarter, against fate, that had allowed so many brave men to perish, and against the overwhelming numbers that the Mexicans could always bring against the Texans.
He walked gloomily toward the town, the two soldiers who had been detailed as guards following close behind him.

He looked back, saw the sinking blaze of the funeral pyre, shuddered and walked on.
San Antonio de Bexar was rejoicing.