"Oh, my Augustine, I have been asking for you, because in such a battle as to-day it happens that some must die. Are you wounded? You have nothing the matter? Let us see, a little gun-scratch? Ah, a trifle! It strikes me that you have scarcely borne yourself like a Montoria. And you, Araceli, have you lost any legs? Not even that! The two of you have just come out from some good shelter, I should say. You have not even turned a hair. It's a bad business. I call you a pair of hens! Go, rest awhile, not more than a hand's shake. If you feel yourselves attacked by the epidemic, rubbing and plenty of it is the best thing. Well, sirs, we depend upon it that to-morrow these houses will be defended wall by wall, partition by partition. The same thing will go on in every part of the city, and in every alcove there will be a battle. Let us go to the Captain-General, and see if Palafox agrees with us. There is no other way,--either to deliver the city to them, or to dispute each brick as if it were a treasure. We will tire them out. To-day six or eight thousand men have perished. Now let us go and see that most excellent Señor Don José. Good-night, boys, and to-morrow try and manage to shake off your cowardice." "Let us go and sleep a little," I said to my friend. "Let us come to a house where I have seen some mattresses." "I cannot sleep," said Montoria, walking on along the Coso. "I know where you are going. We are not permitted to go as far as that, Augustine." Many men and women were running up and down, back and forth in the broad avenue. All of a sudden a woman came running swiftly to us and embraced Augustine, speechless, deep emotion choking her. "Mariquilla, Mariquilla of my heart!" exclaimed Montoria, embracing her joyously. "How is it that you are here? I was just now going in search of you." Mariquilla could not speak, and, without the sustaining arm of her lover, her weak and wavering body would have fallen to the ground. "Are you ill? What is the matter? Is it true that the bombs have destroyed your house?" It was even so, and the young girl's whole aspect showed her great distress. Her clothing was that which we saw on her the night before. Her hair was loosened, and we could see burns upon her poor bruised arms. "Yes," she said, at last, in a stifled voice. "Our house is gone. We have nothing. We have lost everything. This morning, soon after you had gone, a bomb destroyed the house, then two others fell." "And your father?" "My father is there, and will not abandon the ruins of the house. I have been looking for you all day, for you to help us. I have been under fire. I have been in all the streets of the suburb. I have entered several houses. I was afraid that you were dead."