In an adjacent hollow of the plain, surrounded by a strong quickset hedge, and sheltered by a small thicket of trees, flowed a spring of limpid water; towards which, thrust onwards by the crowd of spectators, the poor girl, whose eyes were fixed upon the throne in the distance, found herself irresistibly impelled. Apprehensive every moment of being crushed in the throng, she seized in her arms the trunk of the nearest poplar tree; and closing her eyes, like a child who fancies the danger has ceased to exist which it is not obliged to look upon, remained motionless, her hearing confused by the rustling of the surrounding foliage. The advance and retreat of the mob was, in fact, so instantaneous, that when Teresa re-opened her eyes she was quite alone, separated from the troops by the hedge and thicket, and from the crowd by a column of dust, produced by the last detachment of fugitives. Throwing herself at once into the little copse, she found herself in the centre of about twenty poplar and aspen trees, overshadowing a crystal spring welling out of the ground over a bed of ivy, moss and celandine, till, bubbling onward in a silver thread, it gradually formed a brook capable of traversing the plain, over which its course was defined by painted tufts of blue forget-me-not, and the clusters of the white ranunculus. The refreshing exhalations of the shady spot assisted to restore the self-possession and strength of the exhausted girl. Teresa felt as though she had reached an oasis of verdure in the desert, sheltered from dust, and heat, and disturbance. Meanwhile the plain has become suddenly quiet; she hears neither the word of command, the huzza of the crowd, nor the neighing of the horses. All she can discern is a singular movement overhead; and, looking up, Teresa perceives every bough and spray of the trees to be covered with flights of sparrows, driven to shelter from all quarters of the plain by the alarming movement of the troops and the incursions of the crowd. The poor birds, like the poor girl contemplating them, have taken refuge in that verdant solitude, their little wings and throats apparently paralysed by affright; for not a sound breaks from the band of feathered fugitives. Even on the advance of a brigade of cavalry towards the thicket, accompanied by the braying of trumpets, not a bird is seen to stir. They appear to wait anxiously for the result; while a similar feeling prompts Girardi’s daughter to look through the foliage upon the field. Her eyes are quickly attracted by files of troops, which appear to have cut off all communication between the thicket and the road. “After all,” thought the trembling Teresa, “it is but a _sham_-fight that is about to take place; and if I have been imprudent in venturing hither, the Almighty, who knows the innocence of my heart, will keep me in time of trouble!”