inful sabre cut in the left arm, which for
several hours had been wholly neglected. The officer, whom Riego had
addressed by the name of Alphonso, came out of the hut just as his
comrade was vainly endeavouring, with his teeth and one hand, to replace
the ligature. As he assisted him, he said, "You know not, my dear
Falkland, how bitterly I reproach myself for having ever persuaded you
to a cause where contest seems to have no hope, and danger no glory."
Falkland smiled bitterly. "Do not deceive yourself, my dear uncle," said
he; "your persuasions would have been unavailing but for the suggestions
of my own wishes. I am not one of those enthusiasts who entered on your
cause with high hopes and chivalrous designs: I asked but forgetfulness
and excitement--I have found them! I would not exchange a single pain
I have endured for what would have constituted the pleasures of other
men:--but enough of this. What time, think you, have we for repose?"
"Till the evening," answered Alphonso; "our route will then most
probably be directed to the Sierre Morena. The General is extremely
weak and exhausted, and needs a longer rest than we shall gain. It is
singular that with such weak health he should endure so great an excess
of hardship and fatigue." During this conversation they entered the
hut. Riego was already asleep. As they seated themselves to the wretched
provision of the place, a distant and indistinct noise was heard. It
came first on their ears like the birth of the mountain wind-low, and
hoarse, and deep: gradually it grew loud and louder, and mingled with
other sounds which they defined too well--the hum, the murmur, the
trampling of steeds, the ringing echoes of the rapid march of armed men!
They heard and knew the foe was upon them!--a moment more, and the drum
beat to arms. "By St. Pelagio," cried Riego, who had sprung from his
light sleep at the first sound of the approaching danger, unwilling to
believe his fears, "it cannot be: the French are far behind:" and then,
as the drum beat, his voice suddenly changed, "the enemy? the enemy!
D'Aguilar, to horse!" and with those words he rushed out of the hut. The
soldiers, who had scarcely begun to disperse, were soon re-collected. In
the mean while the French commander, D'Argout, taking advantage of the
surprise he had occasioned, poured on his troops, which consisted solely
of cavalry, undaunted and undelayed by the fire of the posts. On, on
they drove like a swift cloud