But this measure was unnecessary. The shout of triumph, with which the assailants proclaimed the capture of the Biscayan, was carried to every ear in the adoratories; and it was at this instant that the besieged, as much bewildered by the surprise as discomfited by the fury of the attack, disheartened, too, by the misadventure of their general, looked from the loops of their strong-holds, and made that famous blunder of converting the host of _cucujos_, or fire-flies, into a multitude of match-locks; whereby their hearts were turned to water, and their assurance of victory humbled to the hope of capitulation. At the very moment that Don Amador, foiled in the gratification of his passions in one quarter, turned to indulge them in another, and rushed with increasing animation to that tower, around which he heard many voices echoing the name of Salvatierra, he beheld that worthy captain issue from the door, fling his weapon to the earth, and stretch out his arms, as if beseeching for quarter. "Oh thou thing of a white liver!" cried the young cavalier, with extreme disgust, "hast thou not the spirit to strike me one blow? I would I had brought thee the boy Jacinto, to inflame thy valour a little. Thou wilt fight me a boy!" As the neophyte thus gave vent to his indignation, he felt his arm touched, and, turning round, he beheld the secretary, holding a sword ornamented with drops of blood, and otherwise looking as though he had commenced his pupilage in a manner that would not shame his instructor. "Well done, Fabueno!" he exclaimed, encouragingly: "thou lookest like a soldier already. I am glad thine arm is so strong." "I struck but one blow, senor, and I believe I have killed a man! God forgive me!" he cried, in more affright than elation,--"I am not sure I did right; for the very moment I struck the blow, my arm twinged with a most horrible pang; which was perhaps a judgment on me, for striking a man who had done me no wrong." "These things must not be thought of too much," said Don Amador, hastily; "in battle, we must look upon all opponents as our sworn enemies, at least so long as they keep to their feet. But the battle is over--I will have thy wound looked to by some better surgeon than this crazy conjurer." "Senor," said Fabueno, "I sought you out, not to trouble you with my pains, but to recall you to the knight, your kinsman, who is in some difficulty with certain men, about the Moor, that may end in blows, and never a henchman but old Marco by the good Don Gabriel." Amador followed the secretary instantly, and found his kinsman--not unprotected, however, for both Marco and Baltasar were at his side--surrounded by several men speaking with loud and fierce voices, among which he quickly detected the tones of the master of the Incarnation.