THE BLACK TRAGEDY While the raw recruits crowded one another for breath in the dark vaulted church of Goliad, a little swarthy man in a gorgeous uniform sat dining luxuriously in the best house in San Antonio, far to the northwest.

Some of his favorite generals were around him, Castrillon, Gaona, Almonte, and the Italian Filisola.
The "Napoleon of the West" was happy.

His stay in San Antonio, after the fall of the Alamo, had been a continuous triumph, with much feasting and drinking and music.

He had received messages from the City of Mexico, his capital, and all things there went well.

Everybody obeyed his orders, although they were sent from the distant and barbarous land of Texas.
While they dined, a herald, a Mexican cavalrymen who had ridden far, stopped at the door and handed a letter to the officer on guard: "For the most illustrious president, General Santa Anna," he said.
The officer went within and, waiting an opportune moment, handed the letter to Santa Anna.
"The messenger came from General Urrea," he said.
Santa Anna, with a word of apology, because he loved the surface forms of politeness, opened and read the letter.