nvoluntarily backwards.
On the low roof of one of the houses of the plaza, that formed the angle
of the Calle de la Cruz, or street of the cross, old Gutierrez had taken
his station. With the fire of insanity in his bloodshot eyes, and a grin
of exultation upon his wasted features, he witnessed the persecution of
the Empecinado, and while his ears drank in the yells and hootings of
the multitude, he added his shrill cracked voice to the uproar. When the
shots were fired from the town-hall, he bounded and capered upon the
platform, clapping his meagre fingers together in ecstasy; but as the
Empecinado got further from the house, and the firing was discontinued,
an expression of anxiety replaced the look of triumph that had lighted
up the old maniac's face. Diez still moved on unhurt, and was now within
a few paces of the house on which Gutierrez had perched himself. The old
man's uneasiness increased. "Va a escapar!" muttered he to himself;
"they will let him escape. Oh, if I had a gun, my Pedrillo would soon be
avenged!"
The Empecinado was passing under the house. A sudden thought struck
Gutierrez. Stamping with his foot, he broke two or three of the tiles on
which he was standing, and snatching up a large heavy fragment, he
leaned over the edge of the roof to get a full view of the Empecinado,
who was at that moment leaving the plaza and entering the Calle de la
Cruz. In five seconds more he would be out of sight. As it was, it was
only by leaning very far forward that Gutierrez could see him, walking
calmly along, and keeping at bay the angry but cowardly mob that yelped
at his heels, like a parcel of village curs pursuing a bloodhound, whose
look alone prevents their too near approach.
Throwing his left arm round a chimney, the old man swung himself
forward, and with all the force that he possessed, hurled the tile at
the object of his hate. The missile struck the Empecinado upon the
temple, and he fell, stunned and bleeding, to the ground.
"_Viva_!" screamed Gutierrez; but a cry of agony followed the shout of
exultation. The chimney by which the old man supported himself was loose
and crumbling, and totally unfit to bear his weight as he hung on by it,
and leaned forward to gloat over his vengeance. It tottered for a
moment, and then fell with a crash into the street. The height was not
great, but the pavement was sharp and uneven; the old man pitched upon
his head, and when lifted up was already a corpse.
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