It has been indicated that disaffection followed the of Losada to the . This feeling continued to grow. Throughout the entire republic there seemed to be a spirit of silent, discontent. Even the old Liberal party to which Goodwin, Zavalla and other had lent their aid was disappointed. Losada had failed to become a popular . Fresh taxes, fresh import duties and, more than all, his of the oppression of citizens by the military had rendered him the most president since the despicable Alforan. The majority of his own cabinet were out of sympathy with him. The army, which he had courted by giving it to tyrannize, had been his main, and thus far adequate support.  
But the most impolitic of the administration's moves had been when it antagonized the Vesuvius Fruit Company, an organization twelve steamers and with a cash capital somewhat larger than Anchuria's surplus and debt combined.
 
Reasonably an established concern like the Vesuvius would become irritated at having a small, republic with no rating at all attempt to squeeze it. So when the government for a they encountered a polite refusal. The president at once by clapping an export duty of one real per bunch on bananas—a thing in fruit-growing countries. The Vesuvius Company had invested large sums in and along the Anchurian coast, their agents had fine homes in the towns where they had their headquarters, and heretofore had worked with the republic in good-will and with advantage to both. It would lose an immense sum if compelled to move out. The selling price of bananas from Vera Cruz to Trinidad was three reals per bunch. This new duty of one real would have ruined the fruit growers in Anchuria and have seriously discommoded the Vesuvius Company had it declined to pay it. But for some reason, the Vesuvius continued to buy Anchurian fruit, paying four reals for it; and not suffering the growers to bear the loss.
 
This apparent victory deceived His Excellency; and he began to hunger for more of it. He sent an emissary to request a conference with a representative of the fruit company. The Vesuvius sent Mr. Franzoni, a little, , cheerful man, always cool, and whistling airs from Verdi's operas. Señor Espirition, of the office of the Minister of Finance, attempted the sandbagging in behalf of Anchuria. The meeting took place in the cabin of the Salvador, of the Vesuvius line.
 
Señor Espirition opened by announcing that the government the building of a railroad to skirt the coast lands. After upon the benefits such a road would confer upon the interests of the Vesuvius, he reached the definite suggestion that a contribution to the road's expenses of, say, fifty thousand pesos would not be more than an equivalent to benefits received.
 
Mr. Franzoni denied that his company would receive any benefits from a contemplated road. As its representative he must decline to contribute fifty thousand pesos. But he would assume the responsibility of offering twenty-five.
 
Did Señor Espirition understand Señor Franzoni to mean twenty-five thousand pesos?
 
By no means. Twenty-five pesos. And in silver; not in gold.
 
"Your offer insults my government," cried Señor Espirition, rising with indignation.
 
"Then," said Mr. Franzoni, in warning tone, "we will change it."
 
The offer was never changed. Could Mr. Franzoni have meant the government?
 
This was the state of affairs in Anchuria when the winter season opened at Coralio at the end of the second year of Losada's administration. So, when the government and society made its annual to the seashore it was evident that the presidential would not be by rejoicing. The tenth of November was the day set for the entrance into Coralio of the gay company from the capital. A narrow-gauge railroad runs twenty miles into the interior from Solitas. The government party travels by carriage from San Mateo to this road's terminal point, and proceeds by train to Solitas. From here they march in grand procession to Coralio where, on the day of their coming, festivities and ceremonies . But this season saw an dawning of the tenth of November.
 
Although the rainy season was over, the day seemed to hark back to June. A fine of rain fell all during the forenoon. The procession entered Coralio amid a strange silence.
 
President Losada was an elderly man, bearded, with a considerable ratio of Indian blood revealed in his cinnamon . His carriage headed the procession, surrounded and guarded by Captain Cruz and his famous troop of one hundred light horse "El Ciento Huilando." Colonel Rocas followed, with a of the regular army.
 
The president's sharp, beady eyes glanced about him for the expected of welcome; but he faced a , indifferent array of citizens. Sight-seers the Anchurians are by birth and habit, and they turned out to their last able-bodied unit to witness the scene; but they maintained an accusive silence. They crowded the streets to the very wheel ruts; they covered the red tile roofs to the eaves, but there was never a "viva" from them. No wreaths of palm and lemon branches or gorgeous of paper roses hung from the windows and balconies as was the custom. There was an , a dull, disapprobation, that was the more ominous because it puzzled. No one feared an outburst, a revolt of the discontents, for they had no leader. The president and those loyal to him had never even heard whispered a name among them capable of crystallizing the dissatisfaction into . No, there could be no danger. The people always a new idol before they destroyed an old one.
 
At length, after a and curvetting of red-sashed majors, gold-laced colonels and epauletted generals, the procession formed for its annual progress down the Calle Grande to the Casa Morena, where the ceremony of welcome to the visiting president always took place.
 
The Swiss band led the line of march. After it the local comandante, mounted, and a detachment of his troops. Next came a carriage with four members of the cabinet, among them the Minister of War, old General Pilar, with his white moustache and his soldierly bearing. Then the president's vehicle, containing also the Ministers of Finance and State; and surrounded by Captain Cruz's light horse formed in a close double file of fours. Following them, the rest of the officials of state, the judges and military and social of public and private life.
 
As the band struck up, and the movement began, like a bird of ill-omen the Valhalla, the swiftest of the Vesuvius line, into the harbour in plain view of the president and his train. Of course, there was nothing menacing about its arrival—a business firm does not go to war with a nation—but it reminded Señor Espirition and others in those carriages that the Vesuvius Fruit Company was carrying something up its sleeve for them.
 
By the time the van of the procession had reached the government building, Captain Cronin, of the Valhalla, and Mr. Vincenti, member of the Vesuvius Company, had landed and were pushing their way, , and nonchalant, through the crowd on the narrow sidewalk. Clad in white , big, , with an air of good-humoured authority, they made conspicuous figures among the dark mass of unimposing Anchurians, as they to within a few yards of the steps of the Casa Morena. Looking easily above the heads of the crowd, they perceived another that towered above the undersized natives. It was the poll of Dicky Maloney against the wall close by the lower step; and his broad, seductive grin showed that he recognized their presence.
 
Dicky had himself becomingly for the occasion in a well-fitting black suit. Pasa was close by his side, her head covered with the ubiquitous black mantilla.
 
Mr. Vincenti looked at her .
 
"Botticelli's Madonna," he remarked, gravely. "I wonder when she got into the game. I don't like his getting with the women. I hoped he would keep away from them."
 
Captain Cronin's laugh almost drew attention from the parade.
 
"With that head of hair! Keep away from the women! And a Maloney! Hasn't he got a lic............