Next morning they heard that the French infantry were coming, and the town was to be given up to pillage, as so many of the citizens had deserted it. The women came to him. “Shall we lock the street door, Don Carlos?” they said. “By all means,” said he. “Make it as fast as you can, and don’t go near the windows.” Soon they heard the bands playing, and the women rushed to the windows, as if to see a raree-show, forgetting all his injunctions. Soon after thump! thump! thump! sounded at the door. “Virgin of my soul!” cried old Pollonia, tottering to the window. “There they are!” But, peeping out cautiously, she added, “No, ’tis but a neighbour. Open, Pepa.” “You had better not suffer your door to be opened at all,” said the Captain. But Pepa pulled the string, and in came the neighbour, shrieking: “Jesus! Maria! Dios Santissimo! The demons are breaking open every door and plundering every house; all the goods-chests--everything--dragged out into the street.” “Maria di mi alma! Oh, señora!” The crashing of doors, breaking of windows, loud thumpings and clatterings, were now distinctly heard in all directions. All outside seemed to boil in turmoil. Ere long, thump! thump! at their own door. But it was only another neighbour. Pepa pulled the string, and in she came. Her head was piled up with mattresses, blankets, quilts, and pillows. Under one arm were gowns, caps, bonnets, and ribbons. Her other hand held a child’s chair. Add to all this that her figure was of a stunted and ludicrous character, and she came in puffing and crying under that cumbrous weight of furniture. They could not resist laughing. “For the love of God, señora,” she whined, “let me put these things in your house.” She was shown up into the garret. Others followed after her. But soon there was a louder knocking, with a volley of French oaths. The house shook under the blows. “Pedro, tell them in French that this is the quarter of an English Captain.” Pedro cautiously peeped out of the window. “Dios! there is but one,” said Pedro, “and he carries no arms. Hallo, sair! la maison for Inglis Captin! Go to hell!” This strange language, and his abrupt, jabbering way of talking, forced a laugh out of his master. “Ouvrez la porte, bête!” shouted the Frenchman. “I want some water.” “Holy Virgin!” cried Pollonia. “We had better open the door.” “No, no, no!” said Boothby. “Tell him, Pedro, that if he does not take himself off I shall report him to his General.” Pedro had not got half through this message, when suddenly he ducked his head, and a great stone came in and struck the opposite wall. “Il demonio!” groaned the women, as they, too, ducked their heads. Then the fellow, who was drunk, just reeled off in search of some easier adventure. Pedro had hardly finished boasting of his victory when the door was again assailed. “Oh,” said Pollonia, “it’s only two officers’ servants;” and she shut the window. “Well, what did they want?” asked the Captain.