The wagons rolled up, half a dozen at a time, and dumped their dreadful burdens on the stones, with no more respect or ceremony than if they had been cord-wood. Then the poor trembling prisoners seized them by the head and feet, and carried them to other prisoners, who stood inside the boxes, and who arranged them like double lines from a central point:--it was the many-rayed sun of death that had set upon civilization. Then, when the box was full and closely packed, they poured the liquid cement, which had been mixed close at hand, over them. It hardened at once, and the dead were entombed forever. Then the box was lifted and the work of sepulture went on. While I stood watching the scene I heard a thrilling, ear-piercing shriek--a dreadful cry! A young man, who was helping to carry a corpse, let go his hold and fell down on the pavement. I went over to him. He was writhing and moaning. He had observed something familiar about the form he was bearing--it was the body of a woman. He had peered through the disheveled hair at the poor, agonized, blood-stained features, and recognized--_his wife!_ One of the guards raised his whip to strike him, and shouted: "Here! Get up! None of this humbugging." "I caught the ruffian's arm. The poor wretch was embracing the dead body, and moaning pitiful expressions of love and tenderness into the ears that would never hear him more. The ruffian threatened me. But the mob was moved to mercy, and took my part; and even permitted the poor creature to carry off his dead in his arms, out into the outer darkness. God only knows where he could have borne it. I grew sick at heart. The whole scene was awful. I advanced toward the column. It was already several feet high, and ladders were being made, up which the dead might be borne. Coffee and bread and meat were served out to the workers. I noticed a sneaking, ruffianly fellow, going about among the prisoners, peering into every face. Not far from me a ragged, hatless, gray-haired man, of over seventy, was helping another, equally old, to bear a heavy body to the ladders. The ruffian looked first into the face of the man at the feet of the corpse; then he came to the man at the head. He uttered an exclamation of delight. "Ha! you old scoundrel," he cried, drawing his pistol. "So I've found you. You're the man that turned my sick wife out of your house, because she couldn't pay the rent. I've got you now." The old man fell on his knees, and held up his hands, and begged for mercy. I heard an explosion--a red spot suddenly appeared on his forehead, and he fell forward, over the corpse he had been carrying--dead. "Come! move lively!" cried one of the guards, snapping his whip; "carry them both to the workmen." I grew dizzy. Maximilian came up. "How pale you are," he said. "Take me away!" I exclaimed, "or I shall faint." We rode back in another chariot of revolution--a death-cart. CHAPTER XXXVII.