about six o'clock
She seemed to have bloomed into fairer beauty than she had possessed at Sitka . Doubtless her gratified passion and happy relations with me helped to this result , for a woman 's beauty depends almost wholly on her inner life , the life of her emotions and passions . After tea we went downstairs , hired a carriage , and drove to the Paseo -- or laid-out drive -- which is the thing to do in Mexico at that hour ; and to follow the custom of the country you are in is the first golden rule of the traveller who would enjoy himself . It was about six o'clock , and darkness was closing in on the thick , dust-filled air as we drove with the stream of other vehicles of all descriptions , from the poorest hired carriage to the most splendidly appointed barouche , into the Paseo , a wide , sweeping drive , lined each side with trees and lighted with rows of electric arc-light lamps , some of which glowed pinkly or sputtered out blue rays in the dusk . It has never seemed to me a very cheerful matter , this drive between the lights in the formal Paseo , this great string of carriages drawn mostly by poor unhappy horses and filled with dressed-up women who stare rudely at each other as they pass and re-pass , solemn and silent ghosts in a world of grey shadow ! But the fashion amongst the Mexican women of painting and powdering to an inordinate degree perhaps accounts for their love of this hour between the lights , when they imagine the falseness of their complexion can not be detected . After about an hour 's drive we came back , the great arc-lights now sending their uncertain , shifting glare across the road and serving to show the heavy dust through which we moved .