d served to mask the preparations for a bloody treachery. All
eyes turned to the chateau and saw the noble family advancing with
inconceivable composure. Their faces were serene and calm.

One member alone, pale, undone, leaned upon the priest, who spent his
powers of religious consolation upon this man,--the only one who was to
live. The executioner knew, as did all present, that Juanito had agreed
to accept his place for that one day. The old marquis and his wife,
Clara, Mariquita, and the two younger brothers walked forward and knelt
down a few steps distant from the fatal block. Juanito was led forward
by the priest. When he reached the place the executioner touched him
on the arm and gave him, probably, a few instructions. The confessor,
meantime, turned the victims so that they might not see the fatal blows.
But, like true Spaniards, they stood erect without faltering.

Clara was the first to come forward.

"Juanito," she said, "have pity on my want of courage; begin with me."

At this instant the hurried steps of a man were heard, and Victor
Marchand appeared on the terrace. Clara was already on her knees, her
white neck bared for the scimitar. The officer turned pale, but he ran
with all his might.

"The general grants your life if you will marry me," he said to her in a
low voice.

The Spanish girl cast upon the officer a look of pride and contempt.

"Go on, Juanito!" she said, in a deep voice, and her head rolled at
Victor's feet.

The Marquise de Leganes made one convulsive movement as she heard that
sound; it was the only sign she gave of sorrow.

"Am I placed right this way, my good Juanito?" asked the little Manuelo
of his brother.

"Ah! you are weeping, Mariquita!" said Juanito to his sister.

"Yes," she said, "I think of you, my poor Juanito; how lonely you will
be without us."

Soon the grand figure of the marquis came forward. He looked at the
blood of his children; he turned to the mute and motionless spectators,
and said in a strong voice, stretching his hands toward Juanito,--

"Spaniards! I give my son my fatherly blessing! Now, _Marquis_, strike,
without fear--you are without reproach."

But when Juanito saw his mother approach him, supported by the priest,
he cried out: "She bore me!"

A cry of horror broke from all present. The noise of the feast and the
jovial laughter of the officers ceased at that terrible clamor.
The marquise comprehended that Juanito's courage was exhauste