"Of course I told him it was impossible—quite impossible. He sat down and crossed his white plump hands on his hat and began to talk. Miguel must have won him with his plausible manner. I love the padre, but I couldn’t listen to him; could I, Jack? He asked me why I was so opposed to what he thought was an excellent match, and one that my father had so much desired; and then I told him that it was all lies, lies; my father had never wished anything of the sort. And the poor old dear was puzzled, and kept tapping his thumbs together and looked at me so sorrowfully, and then he was called away to attend to a dying officer. And—Jack, tell me, will this siege ever end? Can we hold out any longer? Are there big armies mustering to relieve us, as they all say?" She bent forward with clasped hands. Jack hesitated for a moment. "Juanita," he said, "I won’t disguise my real belief. I don’t believe in the big armies. Saragossa will fall—unless one of two things happens." "And they?" "Unless General Palafox sends out a large sortie and defeats the French, or unless their ammunition gives out. Neither is probable." "Then what will become of us? How long will General Palafox resist? Cannot someone plead with him? Think of the thousands who have died, and the thousands who are dying—the poor women and children in their horrible cellars! Oh, Jack, what a terrible thing war is! Does Napoleon know, can he know, of all the horrors he has brought upon us? Has he any heart at all? Jack, my poor aunt is dying, I fear. I can do nothing. Every morning when I go out to carry food and water to the brave soldiers—" "You do that, Juanita?" "Why, yes; every girl in Saragossa does that or something else to help; and every morning I go fearing that I shall never again see Tia Teresa alive. And if she dies, I shall be quite alone in the world. Father gone, José gone— Ah! but I have you, Jack, and the good padre, and if the worst comes you will look after me, won’t you?—take me to England, perhaps—I used to like your mother,—and Napoleon will never conquer England, will he, Jack?" "Not he," said Jack with a laugh. He saw that the events of the past few days had wrought her nerves to a high pitch of excitement, and tactfully turned the conversation into a quieter channel. He asked for the name of the house to which she was going on the morrow, assured her that, when the inevitable capitulation came, the French would allow generous terms to such brave defenders, and at length took his leave, promising to visit her whenever he could snatch an opportunity. "And will you be able to save the old house?" she asked, as he was going out at the door. "I shall do my best, for the sake of old times, be sure of that." "I know you will. Vaya usted con Dios, Jack!" Before he reached the foot of the stairs, Jack saw, in the dim light of the small hanging lamp, a portly figure ascending. He crossed to the other side and waited to allow the visitor to pass.