La Coruña, Battle of, La Coruña, Spain, 1809 -- Juvenile fiction; Moore, John, Sir 1761-1809 -- Juvenile fiction
"If that is the case, O'Connor, I fear that it is useless for me to try to
do so; you are so full of ideas always, that if you cannot see your way
out of the difficulty, it is hopeless to expect that I could do so. If you
can contrive any plan I will promise to aid you in any way you can point
out, but as to inventing one, I should never do so if I racked my brain
ever so much."
"There must be some way," Terence said. "I used to get into all sorts of
scrapes when I was a boy, but found there was always some way out of them,
if one could but hit upon it. The only thing that I can think of, is to
carry her off in the confusion when the French enter the town."
"I should say that the nuns would never think of leaving their convent,
O'Connor; it is their best hope of safety to remain there."
"No doubt it is, but the French don't always respect the convents--very
much the contrary, indeed. No, I don't think that they would go out merely
to rush into the street; but they might go out if they thought they could
get over the bridge before the French arrived."
"They might do that, certainly; indeed, it would be the best thing they
could do."
"Do you think that if one were to dress up as a priest, or as one of the
bishop's attendants, and to go as from him with an order to the lady
superior to take the nuns at once across the bridge to the convent on the
other side, she would obey it?"
"Not without some written order," Herrara said. "The bishop would
naturally send someone who would be known to her, or if he did send a
stranger he would give him a letter or some token she would recognize;
otherwise, she could not know that it was his order."
"That is what I was afraid of, Herrara, but it is what I shall try, if I
can see no other way. Indeed, I see only one chance of getting over the
difficulty. The bishop is a tyrant of the worst kind. Now, as far as I can
remember, tyrants of his sort--that is to say, tyrants who rule by working
on the passions of the mob--are always cowards. I watched the bishop
closely when I saw him to-day, and I am convinced he is one also. Even in
that kneeling crowd he could not conceal it. There was a nervous twitching
about his lips which, to my mind, showed that he was in a state of intense
anxiety, and that under all his swagger and show of confidence he was,
nevertheless, in a horrible state of alarm. That being so, it seems to me
extremely likely that when the fighting begins he will make a bolt of it.
He won't wait for the French to enter, for he would know well enough that
in their fury at their defeat, the fugitives, if they came upon him, would
be likely to tear him limb from limb, just as they have murdered dozens of
infinitely better men; so I think that he will make off beforehand. I
imagine that he will go secretly, and with only two or three attendants."
"But you could never carry him off without an alarm being raised, if that
is what you are thinking of, O' Connor."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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