tempt to reduce it by force; but victuals were running low, and there
was every likelihood of its being speedily starved into surrender. To
frustrate this, Beaumont conceived the daring plan of attempting to send
in supplies from Mendavia. The attempt being made secretly, by night and
under a strong escort, was entirely successful; but, in retreating, the
Beaumontese were surprised in the dawn of that February morning by a
troop of reinforcements coming to Cesare's camp. These, at sight of the
rebels, immediately gave the alarm.

The most hopeless confusion ensued in the town, where it was at once
imagined that a surprise attack was being made upon the Royalists, and
that they had to do with the entire rebel army.

Cesare, being aroused by the din and the blare of trumpets calling men
to arms, sprang for his weapons, armed himself in haste, flung himself
on a horse, and, without pausing so much as to issue a command to his
waiting men-at-arms, rode headlong down the street to the Puerta del
Sol. Under the archway of the gate his horse stumbled and came down with
him. With an oath, Cesare wrenched the animal to its feet again, gave
it the spur, and was away at a mad, furious gallop in pursuit of the
retreating Beaumont rearguard.

The citizens, crowding to the walls of Viana, watched that last reckless
ride of his with amazed, uncomprehending eyes. The peeping sun caught
his glittering armour as he sped, so that of a sudden he must have
seemed to them a thing of fire--meteoric, as had been his whole life's
trajectory which was now swiftly dipping to its nadir.

Whether he was frenzied with the lust of battle, riding in the reckless
manner that was his wont, confident that his men followed, yet too
self-centred to ascertain, or whether--as seems more likely--it was
simply that his horse had bolted with him, will never be known until all
things are known.

Suddenly he was upon the rearguard of the fleeing rebels. His sword
flashed up and down; again and again they may have caught the gleam
of it from Viana's walls, as he smote the foe. Irresistible as a
thunderbolt, he clove himself a way through those Beaumontese. He was
alone once more, a flying, dazzling figure of light, away beyond that
rearguard which he left scathed and disordered by his furious passage.
Still his mad career continued, and he bore down upon the main body of
the escort.

Beaumont sat his horse to watch, in such amazement as you may conceive,
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