" and,
after a sharp skirmish, were forced to retire, leaving three of their
guns disabled behind them. They retreated to the general rallying-point
of the Republican forces, the Rotunda, at the upper end of the
mile-long Avenida da Liberdade. This avenue stands to the Rocio very
much in the relation of Charing Cross Road to Trafalgar Square: there
is a curve at their junction which prevents you from seeing--or
shooting--from the one into the other. On reaching the Rotunda, the
insurgents learned that the Rocio had been occupied by Royalist troops,
from the Citadel of St. George and another barrack, with one or two
machine guns, but no cannon.

There, then, the two forces lay, with a short mile of sloping ground
between them, awaiting the dawn. Under cover of darkness, a body of
mounted gendarmes attempted to charge the insurgent position, but they
were repulsed by bombs.

Meanwhile, what had become of the naval cooperation, on which so much
reliance had been placed? It had failed, through the tragic weakness of
one man. Candido dos Reis is one of the canonized saints of the
Republic; but I think it shows a good deal of generosity in the
Portuguese character that the Devil's Advocate has not made himself
heard in the case. Dos Reis had undertaken the command of the naval
side of the revolt; but oddly enough, he seems to have arranged no
method of conveyance to his post of duty. He found at the wharf a small
steamer, the captain of which agreed to take him off to the ships; but
there was some delay in getting up steam. During this pause, some one
as yet unidentified, but evidently a friend of Dos Reis, rushed down to
the wharf and shouted to him that the revolt was crushed and all was
lost. Dos Reis, who had assumed his naval uniform on board the steamer,
took it off again, and, in civilian attire, went ashore. He proceeded
to his sister's house, where he spent an hour; then he sallied forth
again, and was found next morning in a distant quarter of the city with
a bullet through his brain.

There is no doubt that he committed suicide. The theory of foul play is
quite abandoned. As it was he who had vetoed the proposed postponement
of the rising, one can understand that the sense of responsibility lay
heavy upon him; but that, without inquiry into the alleged disaster,
without the smallest attempt to retrieve it, he should have left his
comrades in the lurch and taken the easiest way of escape, is surely a
proof of al