"I have just followed from the chateau a man with a lantern who is
coming this way. A lantern is mightily suspicious! I don't believe that
Christian has any call to go and light the church tapers at this time
of night. They want to murder us! said I to myself, so I followed his
heels; and I've discovered, commander, close by here, on a pile of rock,
a great heap of fagots--he's after lighting a beacon of some kind up
here, I'll be bound--"
A terrible cry echoing suddenly through the town stopped the soldier's
speech. A brilliant light illuminated the young officer. The poor
orderly was shot in the head and fell. A fire of straw and dry wood
blazed up like a conflagration not thirty feet distant from the young
commander. The music and the laughter ceased in the ballroom. The
silence of death, broken only by moans, succeeded to the joyous sounds
of a festival. A single cannon-shot echoed along the plain of the ocean.
A cold sweat rolled from the officer's brow. He wore no sword. He was
confident that his soldiers were murdered, and that the English were
about to disembark. He saw himself dishonored if he lived, summoned
before a council of war to explain his want of vigilance; then he
measured with his eye the depths of the descent, and was springing
towards it when Clara's hand seized his.
"Fly!" she said; "my brothers are following me to kill you. Your
soldiers are killed. Escape yourself. At the foot of the rock, over
there, see! you will find Juanito's barb--Go, go!"
She pushed him; but the stupefied young man looked at her, motionless,
for a moment. Then, obeying the instinct of self-preservation which
never abandons any man, even the strongest, he sprang through the park
in the direction indicated, running among the rocks where goats alone
had hitherto made their way. He heard Clara calling to her brothers to
pursue him; he heard the steps of his murderers; he heard the balls of
several muskets whistling about his ears; but he reached the valley,
found the horse, mounted him, and disappeared with the rapidity of an
arrow.
A few hours later the young officer reached the headquarters of General
G--t--r, whom he found at dinner with his staff.
"I bring you my head!" cried the commander of the lost battalion as he
entered, pale and overcome.
He sat down and related the horrible occurrence. An awful silence
followed his tale.
"I think you were more unfortunate than criminal," replied the terrible
general, when at last he spoke. "You are not responsible for the crime
of those Spaniards; and, unless the marshal should think otherwise, I
absolve you."
These words gave but a feeble consolation to the unhappy officer.
"But when the emperor hears of it!" he cried.
"He will want to have you shot," said the general; "but we will see
about that. Now," he added in a stern tone, "not another word of this,
except to turn it into a vengeance which shall impress with salutary
terror a people who make war like savages."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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