The Rebel Chief by Gustave Aimard

At the palace gate don Adolfo found his horse held by a soldier; he at once leapt into the saddle, and after throwing a coin to the _asistente_, he again crossed the Plaza Mayor, and entered the Calle de Tacuba.

It was about nine in the morning; the streets were crowded with pedestrians, horsemen, carriages, and carts, proceeding in all directions. The city, in a word, was leading that feverish existence of capitals during moments of a crisis, when all faces are restless, all glances suspicious -- when conversations are only held in a low voice, and people are always led to suppose an enemy in the inoffensive stranger whom accident makes them suddenly meet.