Augustine Montoria and I stood guard with our battalion in the Molino until after nightfall, the hour when we were relieved by the Huesca volunteers; then we permitted ourselves to be all night outside the lines. But it must not be believed that during these hours we strolled about hand in hand; for when our military services were over, there were others no less onerous in the interior of the city, where the wounded had already been carried to La Seo and to the Pilar,—burning houses to carry things out of, or materials to carry to the friars, the canons, and the civil officials, who were making cartridges in San Juan de los Panetes.

Montoria and I went there by way of the Calle de Pabostre. I walked along munching a crust of bread with good appetite. My companion, taciturn and gloomy, amused himself by throwing his to the dogs that we met as we walked along. Although I exerted my imagination in efforts to cheer his sad spirit, he remained dull and insensible to it all, replying but sadly to my merry chatter. As we entered the Coso, he said to me,—

"It is ten by the clock of the Torre Nueva. Do you know—I wish to go there to-night."

"To-night you will not be able to go. Try to stifle the flame of love in its ashes, while we are threatened by those other burning hearts, the flaming bombs which are coming to break in the houses and among the people."

It was even so. The bombarding, which had not ceased during all the day, was continued during the night, though with a little less vigor; and from time to time projectiles fell, augmenting the already large number of victims within the city.

"I must go there this night," he said. "Did not Mariquilla see me among all those who crowded in front of the door of her house? Will she not think me one of those who abused her father?"

"I don't believe so. That young woman would know how to distinguish between individuals. She has already made inquiries, and now is no time for stolen sweets. Do you see? From that house coming this way are some poor women in need of help. Look, one of them is not able to creep further, and falls to the ground. Is it not possible that the SeÑorita DoÑa Mariquilla Candiola has also gone to care for the wounded at San Pablo or the Pilar?"

"I do not believe so."

"Or perhaps where they are making cartridges?"

"I believe that still less. She would be in her house, and there is where I wish to go, Gabriel. You may go and see to the carrying of the wounded, or to the powder, or whatever you please, but I am going there!"

As he said this, Pirli presented himself to us in his friar's habit, already torn and hanging in a thousand fragments, and on his head the French engineer's helmet, badly battered, but plated and plumed, and making our hero look less like a soldier than a carnival figure.

"Are you coming to help carry the wounded?" he asked. "They have just killed two more for us that we are carrying to San Pablo. They need men there to open the ditch where they are burying our dead of yesterday, but I have worked enough. I am going to the house of Manuela Sancho to see if I can get a snatch of sleep. But, first, we are going to dance a little. Don't you want to come along?"

"No, we are going to San Pablo," I replied, "to bury the dead. There is enough to do."

"They say that so many dead make the air bad, and that is why there are so many ill of the fever. That is finishing them faster than their wounds, over by the other barricade. I would rather have some 'hot cakes' than the epidemic. A 'seÑora' wouldn't scare me, but a chill and a fever would. So then you are going to bury the dead?"

"Yes," said Augustine, "let us bury the dead."

"In San Pablo there are no less than forty wounded," answered Pirli; "and, at the rate we're going there, we'll soon be more dead than living. Don't you want a little diversion? If you are not going to work on the ditch, why not come along to the cartridge factory? All the girls will be there, and from time to time they will give us some singing, or cheer our souls with a little dancing."

"We have no fault to find with all that. Will Manuela Sancho be there too?"

"No, the girls there are the young ladies of Saragossa, the seÑoritas who have been called into service by the committee of safety. There are a great many of them in the hospitals too. They invite themselves for that service. And it would be a queer one who would use her eyes so little as not to make a match for herself, if not for this year, then for next!"

We heard the rushing sound of many footsteps behind us, and, turning, we saw a great number of people, among whose voices we recognized that of Don JosÉ de Montoria. He was very angry at seeing us there, and exclaimed,—

"What are you doing here, idiots? Three strong hearty men standing here with their hands folded, when there is such a lack of men for the work to be done! Go along with you! Clear out of here! March, you little tin soldiers! Do you see those two posts there on the Trenque knoll with beams crossed on top from which six ropes are hanging? Do you see that gallows set up in that place for traitors? Well, it's for loafers, too. Get along to work, or I'll show your carcasses how to move with my fists."

We followed him until we came quite near the gallows, where the six ropes were swaying commandingly in the wind, ready to strangle traitors or cowards. Montoria seized his son by the arm, and pointed to the horrible apparatus with an energetic gesture, saying,—

"Here you can see what we have been getting ready this evening. Look! There's where those who do not do their duty will be entertained. On with you! I who am old never get tired, but you young healthy men act as if you were made of putty. The invincible men of the first siege have almost all worked themselves to death; and we old men, sirs, are obliged to set an example to these dandies who if they miss dining for a week begin to complain and beg for broth. I would give you broth of powder, and soup of cannon balls, you cowards! Go, and see that you help to bury the dead and carry ammunition to the walls."

"And assist at the hell which this damned epidemic is spreading," said one of those who had accompanied Montoria.

"I don't know what to think of this thing which the doctors call the epidemic," answered Don JosÉ. "I call it fear, sirs, pure fear. They take a chill; then they have spasms and a fever; then they turn green, and they die. What is all that but the effect of fear? Our strong men all seem to be gone, yes, seÑors. Ah, what men those were in the first siege! Now when the soldiers have been firing and been fired at for a trifle of ten hours, they begin to fall down with fatigue, and say they can do no more. There's one man who had lost only a leg and a half who began screaming and calling upon all the holy martyrs, begging that they put him to bed. Nothing but cowardice, pure cowardice! To-day several soldiers left Palafox's battery who had a good sound arm apiece left to fight with. And they began to beg for broth! They had better drink their own blood, which is the best broth in the world. I say the race of men of courage is finished and done with, porra! a thousand porras!"

"To-morrow the French will attack Las Tenerias," said the other. "If, as a result, there are many wounded, I don't see where we are going to put them."

"Wounded!" exclaimed Montoria. "We don't wish to see any wounded here. The dead do not hinder us. We can pile them up in a heap; but the wounded—ugh! Our soldiers are no longer fearless, and I'll wager that those who are defending the best positions will not risk seeing themselves decimated; they will abandon them as soon as they see a couple of dozen French heads above each rampart. What feebleness! After all, 'twill be as God wills, and as for the wounded and sick, we will take care of them. Why not? Have you taken many fowls to-day?"

"Several dozens, of which more than half were given, and for the rest we paid six reales and a half. A few were not willing to give."

"All right. To think that a man like me should occupy himself with fowls in days like these! What's that you say? Some were not willing to give? The Captain-General authorized me to impose fines upon those who do not contribute to the defence. We will just gently get the law on those milksops and traitors. Hark, seÑors! A bomb fell then in the neighborhood of the Torre Nueva. Did you see it? Did you hear it? What a horrible explosion! I'll wager that it is Divine Providence more than the French batteries that have sent it against the house of that petrified, soulless Jew who looks on with indifference and contempt at his neighbors' distress. People are running that way. It seems that the house is on fire, or falling down. No, don't you run, you miserable fellows. Let it burn, let it fall to the earth in a thousand pieces. It is the house of the miser Candiola, who would not give one peseta to save the whole human race from a new deluge. Eh, where are you going? You are going to run there too? No, come along. Follow me! We can be of more use elsewhere."

We were going in a crowd to the Orphanage. Augustine, impelled no doubt by the beating of his heart, suddenly started as if to direct his steps towards the Plazuela San Felipe, following the great crowd hastening towards that place. But detained forcibly by his father he continued, though with bad grace, in our company. Something was certainly burning near the Torre Nueva, and on the tower the precious arabesques and bricks shone redly, because of the nearness of the fire. That graceful leaning column could be distinguished, crimson in the black night, and at the same time from its huge belfry a great lamentation fell upon the air.

We reached San Pablo.

"Go on, boys, loungers! Help those who are opening the ditch. It must be wide and deep. It is a garment wherein they will enrobe forty bodies."

We began upon the work, digging earth from the ditch which was being opened in the court of the church. Augustine was digging with me, but at every instant he turned his eyes in the direction of the Torre Nueva.

"It is a terrible fire. It seems as if it is going down a little, Gabriel. I long to throw myself into this grave which we are opening."

"Don't be in a hurry," I answered him. "Perhaps to-morrow will throw us into it without our asking. This is no time for foolishness; it is time to work."

"Do you not see? I believe that the fire is extinguished."

"Yes, the whole house has probably burned down. Candiola was sure to be shut up in his cellar with his money, and the fire couldn't reach him. Don't worry."

"Gabriel, I must go there, if only for a moment. I wish to see if the fire was really in his house. If my father returns, tell him that I will be back in a second."

The sudden appearance of Don JosÉ de Montoria prevented Augustine making the flight which he had just planned, and we two continued digging in the great sepulchre. They began to bring out bodies; and the sick and wounded, who were constantly being brought from without, saw, as they were taken into the church, the wide bed which we were preparing for them. At last the ditch was sufficiently deep, and we were ordered to cease digging. The work went on, and corpses were brought, one by one, and cast into the great sepulchre, while clergymen and pious women upon their knees repeated the mournful words of the service. There was room enough for all, and nothing remained to be done for them but to cover them with earth. Don JosÉ Montoria, with head uncovered, reciting in a low voice a paternoster, threw the first handful. Then our shovels and spades began with all speed to cover them. Our work ended, we all knelt down, and prayed in hushed tones. Augustine Montoria said to me when this was done,—

"We will go now. My father will march himself off. Go and tell him that we are going to relieve two friends on duty who have a sick one in their family and wish us to see him. Tell him, for God's sake! I haven't the courage, then in an instant we can be there."