Instead, he looked once more through the window and over the city at the vast white peaks of Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl silent and immutable, forever guarding the sky-line.

Yet they seemed to call to him at this moment and tell him of freedom.

The words of the man had touched a spring within him and he wanted to go.

He could not conceal from himself the fact that he longed for liberty with every pulse and fiber.

But he resolved, nevertheless, to stay.