Another eye-witness gives a passing glimpse of horrors. ‘Duty being over, I chanced to meet my servant, who seemed to have his haversack already well filled with plunder. I asked him where the regiment was: he answered that he did not know, but that he had better conduct me to the camp, as I appeared to be wounded. I certainly was hit in the head, but in the excitement of the escalade had not minded it, nor had I felt a slight wound in my leg: but, as I began to be rather weak, I took his advice, and he assisted me on. In passing what appeared to be a religious house I saw two soldiers dragging out an unfortunate nun, her clothes all torn: in her agony she knelt and held up a cross. Remorse seized one of the men, who appeared more sober than the other, and he swore she should not be outraged. The other soldier drew back a step and shot his comrade dead. At this moment we found ourselves surrounded by several Portuguese: they ordered us to halt, and presented their muskets at us. I said to my servant, “throw them some of your plunder:” he instantly took off his haversack and threw it among them: some dollars and other silver coin rolled out. They then let us pass--had he not done so they would have shot us--as they did several others. We got safe to the bastion, and my servant carried me on his back to the camp, where I got a draught of water, fell asleep instantly, and did not waken till after midday[287].’ [287] _Recollections of Col. P. P. Nevill, late Major 63rd_ [but with the 30th at Badajoz], pp. 15-16. ‘In justice to the army’--we quote from another authority[288]--’I must say that the outrages were not general: in many cases they were perpetrated by cold-blooded villains who had been backward enough in the attack. Many risked their lives in defending helpless women, and, though it was rather a dangerous moment for an officer to interfere, I saw many of them running as much risk to prevent inhumanity as they did in the preceding night while storming the town.’ The best-known incident of the kind is the story of Harry Smith of the 95th, who saved a young Spanish lady in the tumult, and married her two days later, in the presence of the Commander-in-Chief himself, who gave away the bride. This hastily-wedded spouse, Juana de Leon, was the Lady Smith who was the faithful companion of her husband through so many campaigns in Spain, Belgium, and South Africa, and gave her name to the town in Natal which, nearly ninety years after the siege of Badajoz, was to be the scene of the sternest leaguer that British troops have endured in our own generation. Harry Smith’s narrative of the Odyssey of himself and his young wife in 1812-14, as told in his autobiography, is one of the most romantic tales of love and war that have ever been set down on paper. [288] Donaldson of the 94th, p. 159.