wn by the light of the doorway behind us, and by the torches
burning in the gallery.

That morning, in my helplessness, I had come to put my trust in
accident--in some accident--I hardly knew of what nature--my own death,
perhaps--that would find a solution for my responsibilities, put an end
to my tormenting thoughts. And now the accident came with a terrible
swiftness, at which I shudder to this day.

We were looking down into the _patio_. Don Balthasar had just said,
"You are nowhere as safe as by my side," when I noticed a _Lugareno_
withdrawing himself from the throng about the basin. His face came to me
familiarly. He was the pirate with the broken nose, who had had a taste
of my fist. He had the sentry's musket on his shoulder, and was slinking
away towards the gate.

Don Balthasar extended his hand over the balustrade, and there was
a general movement of recoil below. I wondered why the slaves on the
stairs did not charge and clear the _patio_; but I suppose with such a
mob outside there was a natural hesitation in bringing the position to
an issue. The _Lugarenos_ were muttering, "Look at the _Inglez!_" then
cried out together, "Excellency, give up this _Inglez!_"

Don Balthasar seemed ten years younger suddenly. I had never seen him so
imposingly erect.

"Insensate!" he began, without any anger.

"He is going to fire!" yelled Castro's voice somewhere in the gallery.

I saw a red dart in the shadow of the gate. The broken-nosed pirate had
fired at me. The report, deadened in the vault, hardly reached my
ears. Don Balthazar's arm seemed to swing me back. Then I felt him lean
heavily on my shoulder. I did not know what had happened till I heard
him say:

"Pray for me, gentlemen."

Father Antonio received him in his arms.

For a second after the shot, the most dead silence prevailed in the
court. It was broken by an affrighted howl below: and Seraphina's voice
cried piercingly:

"Father!"

The priest, dropping on one knee, sustained the silvery head, with its
thin features already calm in death. Don Balthasar had saved my life;
and his daughter flung herself upon the body. O'Brien pressed his hands
to his temples, and remained motionless.

I saw the bishop, in his stiff cope, creep up to the group with the
motion of a tortoise. And, for a moment, his quavering voice pronouncing
the absolution was the only sound in the house.

Then a most fiendish noise broke out below. The negroes had charged, an