The sick and the wounded were crying out, believing that their last hour had come. We all commended ourselves to God. "What is it? Is Saragossa still in existence?" one asked. "Are we blown up too?" "This terrible explosion must have been in the Convent of San Francisco," said I. "Let us run over there," cried Montoria, trying to make strength of his weakness. "Señor de Araceli, did they not say that all precautions had been taken to defend San Francisco? Isn't there a pair of crutches anywhere here?" We went into the Coso, where we were immediately assured of the fact that a large part of San Francisco had been blown up. "My son was in the convent," said Montoria, pale as the dead. "My God, if thou art resolved upon his death also, may he die for his country at the post of honor." The loquacious beggar of whom I made mention in the first pages now approached us, walking laboriously upon his crutches, and seeming in a very bad state of health. "Sursum Corda," I said to the patriot, "give me your crutches. You are doing no good with them." "Do me the kindness to let me keep them to get to that doorway," said the cripple, "and then I will give them to you. I do not wish to die in the middle of the street." "Are you dying?" "It seems like it. I am burning with fever. I was wounded in the shoulder yesterday, and nobody has taken out the ball. I feel that I am going. Your honor may have the crutches." "Have you come from San Francisco?" "No, sir, I was in the Arch del Trenque. There was a cannon there. We had been firing a great deal. But San Francisco has been blown into the air when we least expected it. The whole part to the south and the west came to the ground, burying many people. There has been treachery, people say. Adios, Señor Don José. Here I stay. My eyes are getting dim. My tongue thickens. I am going, but the Virgin del Pilar will protect me. And here your honor has my oars." With them Montoria got on slowly towards the scene of the catastrophe. But we had to go around by the Calle San Gil, because we could not get through directly. The French had ceased firing upon the convent from the hospital; but, assaulting by San Diego, they quickly occupied the ruins, which we could not dispute with them. The church and the tower of San Francisco remained standing. "Eh, Father Luengo," said Montoria, calling to the friar of that name, "what is it? Where is the Captain-General? Has he perished in the ruins?" "No," replied the friar, stopping. "He is with officers in the Plazuela de San Felipe. I can announce the safety of your son Augustine to you, because he was one of those who were occupying the tower." "Blessed be God!" said Don José, crossing himself. "All the part at the south and the west has been destroyed," proceeded Luengo. "I do not know how they have been able to mine in that place. They must have placed the mines under the chapter house. We had not mined there, believing that it was a safe place."