Rest was absolutely necessary before the cavalry could resume their march; and, as a mountain-pass crowned the Toledo road at a league’s distance from the village, and rendered the route particularly dangerous, it was determined that the party should remain at the posada for the night, and march at sun-rise. The dead chasseurs were honourably committed to the grave--the soldiers ordered to refresh themselves--the day passed over--night came--and, after every precaution had been taken to secure the party against surprise, I found myself once more in undisputed possession of the hard mattress on which I had rested the preceding night. War, like misfortune, introduces people to strange bed-fellows, and I never saw that adage so strikingly confirmed. Colonel La Coste slept on the Empecinado’s bed. Where were the wild and Swarthy partisans whom I had seen stretched on those couches now occupied by gaily-dressed chasseurs? Cold and lifeless in the court-yard;--all suffering at an end--life’s fever over! At dawn of day the trumpet sounded; and as I had never undressed, I quitted the crowded gallery to enjoy the morning air. I found the court-yard in strange confusion, and the spot where the dead guerillas lay, encircled by a number of the soldiery. I stepped forward; the men made way for me; and one of them pointed out a paper affixed to the Student’s breast. It was a placard, couched in Spanish, the words being, “_Meuran los Franceses!_” When the occurrence was reported to Colonel La Coste, nothing could exceed his rage at the insult, excepting his astonishment at the audacity of venturing on an attempt, that if discovered, involved the certain death of him who tried this dangerous experiment. All connected with the posada were subjected to a rigorous examination; but nothing was elicited that could attach suspicion to any particular individual. I knew not wherefore, but the occurrence raised some hopes of a speedy deliverance; and I felt a strong conviction that our march on Toledo would not be effected without interruption; and the event proved that my conclusions were correct. We marched at six o’clock; and what a scene of melancholy loneliness the deserted posada must have presented after our departure! The crowd of glittering soldiers gone--the only occupants, the affrighted inmates, and the dead guerillas. We rode slowly through the hamlet; I, mounted on a horse that two days before had carried an enemy’s chasseur. It might have been fancy--I thought the faces of the villagers had a sinister expression as they looked after the French soldiers, while in more than one hurried glance, I saw sympathy evinced for me. When we cleared the village, Colonel La Coste rode up, and signalled that two chasseurs, who rode on either side of me with unslung carbines, should fall back.