en looking over his shoulder instead
of before him, and has caught a sight of the Senor Conde and his escort.
See yonder."

The Carlists looked in the direction pointed out, and on the top of the
hill over which Count Villabuena was expected to approach, they saw
three horsemen standing, one of whom was sweeping the village and the
adjacent country with a field-glass, apparently seeking the cause and
meaning of the violent fanfare that had so much alarmed the respectable
Junta. Behind these three men, who were no others than the Count, his
cousin, and their guide, the lance-flags of the escort were visible,
although the soldiers themselves were still out of sight, having halted
just here arriving on the crest of the hill. The countenances of the
Carlists, which for a moment had contracted with alarm, were beginning
again to expand, as the plausibility of their companion's explanation
occurred to them, when suddenly they saw the Count and his companions
turn their horses in all haste, and disappear behind the hill. At the
same moment, and before they could guess at the meaning of this
manoeuvre, a shout was heard, a troop of Christino dragoons debouched
from behind the willow wood, deployed upon the field, and charged across
it in open order, their lances levelled,[9] and the pennons fluttering
above their horses' ears. In less time than it takes to write it, they
had crossed the field, dashed into the garden, and, breaking through the
hedge, clattered over the rough streets of the village in pursuit, of
the unfortunate priests and alcaldes, who, taken entirely by surprise,
knew not which way to run to avoid the danger that menaced them. Some
few who had time to get on horseback, scampered off, but were pursued
and overtaken by the better-mounted dragoons; others crept into houses
and stables, or flung themselves into ditches; and the majority, seeing
no possibility of escape, threw themselves on their knees, and, in
piteous accents, implored mercy. This was not refused.

"Give quarter, and make prisoners," was the command uttered in the
clear, sonorous tones of Luis Herrera, who led the party; "they are
unarmed--spare their lives."

The order was obeyed, and only one or two of the more desperate, who
produced concealed weapons, and endeavoured to defend themselves,
received trifling sabre-cuts from the exasperated dragoons.

But although Don Baltasar, on first obtaining a view of the Queen's
cavalry, and before he k