n't fancy it was tapers my fine Catholic was going to light at this time
of night. 'They want to eat us body and bones!' says I to myself; so I
went on his track to reconnoiter. There, on a ledge of rock, not three
paces from here, I discovered a great heap of fagots."

Suddenly a terrible shriek rang through the town and cut the soldier
short. At the same instant a gleam of light flashed before the commandant.
The poor grenadier received a ball in the head and fell. A fire of straw
and dry wood burst into flame like a house on fire, not ten paces from the
young man.

The sound of the instruments and the laughter ceased in the ballroom. The
silence of death, broken only by groans, had suddenly succeeded to the
noises and music of the feast. The fire of a cannon roared over the
surface of the sea.

Cold sweat trickled down the young officer's forehead; he had no sword. He
understood that his men had been slaughtered, and the English were about
to disembark.

If he lived he saw himself dishonored, summoned before a council of war.
Then he measured with his eyes the depth of the valley. He sprang forward,
when just at that moment his hand was seized by the hand of Clara.

"Fly!" said she; "my brothers are following to kill you. Down yonder at
the foot of the rock you will find Juanito's horse. Quick!"

The young man looked at her for a moment, stupefied. She pushed him on;
then, obeying the instinct of self-preservation, which never forsakes even
the bravest man, he rushed down the park in the direction she had
indicated. He leapt from rock to rock, where only the goats had ever trod
before; he heard Clara crying out to her brothers to pursue him; he heard
the footsteps of the assassins; he heard the balls of several discharges
whistle about his ears; but he reached the valley, he found the horse,
mounted, and disappeared swift as lightning.

In a few hours he arrived at the quarters occupied by General Gautier. He
found him at dinner with his staff.

"I bring you my life in my hand!" cried the commandant, his face pale and
haggard.

He sat down and related the horrible disaster. A dreadful silence greeted
his story.

"You appear to me to be more unfortunate than criminal," said the terrible
general at last. "You are not accountable for the crime of the Spaniards,
and unless the marshal decides otherwise, I acquit you."

These words could give the unfortunate officer but slight consolation.

"But when the Emp