The Man and His Kingdom by E. Phillips Oppenheim

It is certain that San Martina had never before witnessed anything so brilliant as that memorable fete. The suite of reception and official rooms, which covered the whole of the ground-floor of the Presidency, were packed with men and women of all kinds and degrees, dressed for the most part in strange and picturesque garb, and all bent upon enjoyment.

The means were ready enough at hand. The great ball-room could accommodate them all, and when they were weary of dancing there were the gardens, where another band was playing, which seemed to have been converted for the night into a European al fresco cafe. Coloured lanterns hung down in the breathless air like yellow moons; from every little table and every shaded walk came the sound of gay voices and the musical laughter of women. San Martina had suddenly become a paradise, even to the discontented. Even those men who had hailed Sagasta as a deliverer and who only a few days ago had been under arms against the public, were there, drinking the President's health, waltzing over the smooth floors, and smoking cigarettes in the garden between the dances.