his face, but he appeared much
less exhausted and suffering.

"Jesus Maria! Where am I, Senores? For the mother of God's sake, where am
I?"

"_Silencio!_" growled the hangman, placing him against the wall, and
beginning to undress him. The manga as soon stripped off, and the jacket
followed.

"Lift your foot," said the executioner, pulling at his trousers. "Now the
other! So. The shirt is not worth much--you can take that with you. The
botines and shoes tolerable. But don't be frightened, Senoria; it is only
an exchange."

"Jesus Maria! Mercy, gracious Senor!" stammered the unfortunate wretch.
"Ah! if my poor mother, who lives at the corner of the Plateria,
could"----

"We will tell her of it, Senoria," interrupted the hangman, in almost a
feeling tone; "and she will perhaps be able to get you an _indulgencia
plenaria_--for we have no confessors here. It is short work with us,
particularly since the rack is done away with. But for twenty dollars she
can get the best of indulgencias. They are cheap since the rebellion."

The poor fellow listened to this speech, his head bent towards the speaker
in an attitude of attention; but he did not seem to understand. He
slivered like an aspen leaf; for he now stood nearly naked upon the cold,
damp stones.

"Jesus Maria!" whimpered the lad, "what is it you want with me? I only
went to accompany my young master. How could poor Cosmo help it? We begged
and prayed of him--Maestro Alonzo, Pedro, and I--that he would not
interfere when Major Ulloa charged the _gente irracionale_. Jesus! how
cold it is!"

"You will soon be warm, Senor," quoth the executioner. "In our hands, the
coldest grows warm. There--take that!"

And he handed him, one after the other, the garments which the alguazil
had taken off the other prisoner. The unfortunate creature caught at them,
and slipped them on with a haste that had something shocking in it. On a
sudden, he left off dressing himself, passed his hands over the fur
trimmings and gold embroidery of the jacket, and exclaimed, in a trembling
voice--"Holy Virgin! they are my master's clothes!" For a moment he stood
shivering, with the jacket in his hand.

"Quick, Senor!" cried the executioner; "time is short."

The prisoner put his arm mechanically into the sleeve of the jacket. The
hangman helped him on with it, threw the short cloak over him, and placed
him hastily in the cell which had been so recently vacated. He had
scarcely done so, whe