The general looked at her for some moments with an expression of love, of anger, and of grief, impossible to describe; whilst the young woman, panting, desolate, her eyes filled with tears, and her hands clasped, almost kneeling before him, addressed him a mute prayer. Then, suddenly making a last effort over himself, and resuming his cold and impassive appearance, he regained his composure, and crossing his arms on his breast-- "It is impossible," said he; "obey, Captain." The latter did not allow the order to be repeated. The miserable spy, seized by hands of iron, was raised into the air, and launched into eternity before even having a clear perception of this unforeseen dénouement. The young girl--for the person who had vainly endeavoured to interpose between the justice and the clemency of the general was a young girl, almost a child, scarcely fifteen years of age--seized with fright at the sight of this hideous spectacle, terrified by the cries of brutal joy raised by the soldiers, quite gave way; her arms hanging down, her head falling on her breast, half fainting, her beautiful and gentle countenance was suffused with a mortal paleness; her long tresses fell in disorder on her shoulders, and her eyes, so mild and tender, the azure of which appeared to reflect the blue of the sky, were veiled and dimmed by grief, whilst a nervous movement agitated her whole body. The marchioness approached her, lifted her up calmly, and directing the general's attention to her with a look of sovereign contempt-- "Stand up, my daughter," said she; "this posture only befits suppliants or criminals, and you are, thank God, neither. Did I not forewarn you that this man had a tiger's heart?" "Oh! My mother! My mother!" cried she, hiding her face in her bosom, "How much I suffer!" At these words, uttered with an agonising expression, the general made a sudden movement, as if to start towards the young girl. But the marchioness, standing erect with a leonine boldness, fixed him to his place with a scornful look. "Back, Señor," said she; "neither my daughter nor I know you. We are your prisoners. If you dare, kill us also, as you have almost threatened." At this speech, the cruel accent of which recalled him suddenly to himself, the general resumed his coolness, and answered, with a cutting tone-- "Not you, Madame; we do not kill women; but your accomplices will be shot within an hour." "What matters it to me?" she answered. And supporting her daughter in her arms, she went with a firm step to mingle again with the prisoners. This strange scene, incomprehensible to all that witnessed it, had plunged the officers and soldiers into profound astonishment.