"I saw your glance of commiseration," said Jack quietly, as he prepared a cigarito; "but be assured, Ramble, you may as well feel pity for a bruised wolf. I have not forgotten the Rio de Muerte, and that night on the hills above Trohniona." "Noble Caballeros--buenos Christianos," said a venerable Franciscan, placing before us the wooden platter on which he was receiving the reals and pence of the faithful; "por neustra Señora Santissima, one little medio for the sinful soul of Fabrique de Urquija." Jack and I--though believing but little in monk or mass--were taught as soldiers to respect the religious prejudices of all men; thus we were touched by the honest piety of these old pillars of a dying creed---dying at least in Spain; and we each threw in a gold coin. This raised an approving murmur among the people, and the prisoner gave us a glance full of recognition and gratitude. We had paid enough for fifty masses! The church bell now began to toll a passing knell. Then the alguazils, who wore the cavalier costume of other times--the broad hat, the long locks, the white vandyke collar over a little shoulder mantle, the short knee-breeches and buckled shoes, of the days of Cervantes, advanced their halberts and ascended the scaffold, accompanied by the executioner, who was dressed in the deepest black. All present now murmured and looked round, and several officers drew their swords, for rumours of a projected rescue were current in San Roque and its vicinity. The confession was ended, and if all the horrors which rumour ascribed to the unhappy Urquija were true, what a revelation it must have been! What a volume it would have made! José Torquemada remained on his knees beside the penitent, who turned to him ever and anon, anxiously and hurriedly to pour into his ear some newly-remembered act of guilt, or perhaps to spin out the thread of life a little--a very little longer. Meanwhile the solemn bell continued tolling; the people around the scaffold were nearly all upon their knees, and the grasp of the executioner was laid upon the iron wrench or screw of the garotte. The face of the culprit flushed as he did so, and then grew pale as marble. The hand of the church clock indicated the hour of noon; then a cannon pealed from the fortifications of San Roque and the priest pointed with his crucifix to Heaven, while the executioner, at that instant, gave the screw a vigorous twist, and the head of Urquija fell suddenly on his breast. It heaved a little, and all was over.