The Man and His Kingdom by E. Phillips Oppenheim

The President of San Martina lit an after-breakfast cigar, and stretched himself out in a wicker chair with a little grunt of satisfaction. The meal had been served, as was usual during the hot months, on the balcony of one of the smaller rooms at the back of the Presidential abode. Over his head was an awning; through the fine mosquito netting which waved softly in front of him was a pleasing vista of cool green shrubs and shaded walks; on the horizon a blue haze hung around the Andiguan hills, behind which lay Beau Desir. To judge from the deep quietness, it was very difficult indeed to believe that only a day or two ago a revolution had been raging in this exceedingly well-ordered city. The faint hum of voices which came from the Plaza was far from being of a disturbing nature; the floating cries of the fruit-seller and the ice-man were mingled with the still lighter greetings of the idlers in the Square.

The President sipped his liqueur, and being a man used to the ups and downs of life, congratulated himself with admirable philosophy upon being where he was instead of in the cemetery. It was indeed a domestic scene, and one which should have pleased the hearts of his people could their eyes have penetrated that thick screen of trees and flowering shrubs which adorned the Presidential garden. They would have had the unspeakable privilege of beholding their ruler in the bosom of his family. Opposite to him sat the Senora, his wife. She wore a pink dressing-gown and slippers not usually seen in such exalted circles beyond the precincts of the bedchamber. Her hair was loosely coiled on the top of her head and secured with a much-bejewelled pin. Her complexion was a little yellow, and seemed to lack that freshness which apparently came with the completion of her toilet. But, as though to atone for these slight defects on the part of her mother, Lucia, as fresh as a rose, occupied the third seat at the table. She wore a plain white muslin gown, and there was a band of white ribbon in her hair. Her complexion suggested a recent acquaintance with the "Paphian Wells," of Aphrodite, and her dark eyes were wonderfully soft and bright. Only the Senora, with the jealous eye of a closely watching mother, detected a listlessness in her manner and a lack of interest in her surroundings which afforded her some concern.