surrounded by the rest of the family and
brought to Juanito.

Victor could bear this scene no longer; he made a sign to Clara, and
hastened away to make one last effort with the general. He found him in
high good humor in the middle of the banquet drinking with his officers;
they were beginning to make merry.

An hour later a hundred of the principal inhabitants of Menda came up to
the terrace, in obedience to the general's orders, to witness the
execution of the family of Leganes. A detachment of soldiers was drawn up
to keep back these Spanish burghers who were ranged under the gallows on
which the servants of the Marquis still hung. The feet of these martyrs
almost touched their heads. Thirty yards from them a block had been set
up, and by it gleamed a scimitar. The headsman also was present, in case
of Juanito's refusal.

Presently, in the midst of the profoundest silence, the Spaniards heard
the footsteps of several persons approaching, the measured tread of a
company of soldiers, and the faint clinking of their muskets. These
diverse sounds were mingled with the merriment of the officers' banquet;
just as before it was the music of the dance which had concealed
preparations for a treacherous massacre.

All eyes were turned toward the castle; the noble family was seen
advancing with incredible dignity. Every face was calm and serene; one man
only leant, pale and haggard, on the arm of the priest. Upon this man he
lavished all the consolations of religion--upon the only one of them
doomed to live. The executioner understood, as did all the rest, that for
that day Juanito had undertaken the office himself.

The aged Marquis and his wife, Clara, Mariquita, and their two brothers,
came and knelt down a few steps from the fatal spot. Juanito was led
thither by the priest. As he approached the block the executioner touched
him by the sleeve and drew him aside, probably to give him certain
instructions.

The confessor placed the victims in such a position that they could not
see the executioner; but like true Spaniards, they knelt erect with no
sign of emotion.

Clara was the first to spring forward to her brother. "Juanito," she said,
"have pity on my faint-heartedness; begin with me."

At that moment they heard the footsteps of a man running at full speed,
and Victor arrived on the tragic scene. Clara was already on her knees,
already her white neck seemed to invite the edge of the scimitar. A deadly
pallor f