The firing of the guns and cannon ceased. A great splendor was illumining the city. It was the burning of the Audiencia. The fire, beginning about midnight, was devouring all four sides of that splendid edifice at one time. Without heeding anything but my errand, I hurried to the Calle de Anton Trillo. The house of Candiola had been burning all day. At last the flame had been stifled by pieces of falling roofs, and between the portions of walls still standing issued black columns of smoke. Through the window-frames showed patches of sky, and the bricks, crumbling away, had made a ragged-toothed looking thing of that which had been an architrave. Part of the wall which fronted on the garden had fallen down over the balcony, covering the end where the railing and the stone stairway had been, its stones spreading forward to the street wall. In the midst of these ruins the cypress stood unharmed, like the life which remains when the substance is gone. It raised its black head like a memorial. The gate had been destroyed by the axes of those who had rushed up at first to try to put out the fire.

When I penetrated into the garden, I saw some people at the right and near the grating of a lower window. It was the part of the house which was best preserved. And, indeed, the lower floor had suffered little, perhaps nothing; the bulging out of the roof of the principal part had not affected this, although it was to be expected that it would give way sooner or later under the great weight. I approached the group to find Candiola. He was there, seated close to the grating with his hands crossed, his head upon his breast, his clothing torn and burned. He was surrounded by a little crowd of women and boys, who were buzzing about him like bees, pouring forth the whole gamut of insults and taunts. It cost me no great trouble to put the swarm to flight; and although they did not all go far away, and persisted in hanging about, thinking to get a chance at the gold of the rich Candiola, he was at least freed from the annoyance of their immediate presence, and the sneers and cruel jests with which he had been tormented.

"SeÑor soldier," he said to me, "I am grateful to you for putting this vile mob to flight. Here my house is burned and no one helps me. Are there no authorities now in Saragossa, seÑor? What a people! What a people! It is not because we have not paid our taxes."

"The civil authorities do not occupy themselves except with the military operations," I answered him; "and so many houses have been destroyed that it is impossible to run to them all."

"May he be cursed a thousand times!" he cried, "a thousand curses be on the head of him who has brought all this distress upon us! May he be tormented in hell for a thousand eternities, and then he would not pay the penalty of his crime. But what the devil are you looking for here, seÑor soldier? Are you not willing to leave me in peace?"

"I have come in search of SeÑor Candiola," I replied, "in order to take him where he can be looked after, have his wounds dressed, and be given a little food."

"For me? I will not leave my house," he cried in a sad voice. "The committee will have to rebuild it for me. Where do you want to take me? I am in the situation now to be offered alms. My enemies have their will, which was to put me in the position of begging alms. But I shall not beg, no. I will sooner eat my own flesh and drink my own blood than humble myself before those who have brought me to such a state. Perhaps they have sold themselves to the French, and prolong the resistance to earn their money. Then they will deliver the city, and they will be all right."

"Do leave all those considerations for another time!" I said. "And follow me now, because it is not the time to think about all that. Your daughter has found a place of safety, and we will give you a refuge in the same place."

"I do not move from here. Where is my daughter?" he asked anxiously. "She must be mad not to stay beside her father in his distress. It is because she is ashamed, that she deserted me. Curse her, and the hour when I begat her! Lord Jesus of Nazareth and thou my patron, Saint Dominguito del Val, tell me what have I done to deserve so many misfortunes in the same day? Am I not good? Do I not do all the good I can? Do I not favor my neighbors, lending them money at low interest? Suppose I do ask a trifle of three or four reales on the dollar by the month? If I am a good man, exact and careful, why is such distress heaped upon me? I am thankful that I have not lost the little that by hard work I have got together, because it is in a place where the bombs cannot reach it; but the house and the furniture, and the receipts, and that which was left in the storehouse! May I be damned, and may the devils eat me, if when this is all over, and I get together the little that I have here, I do not leave Saragossa, never again to return!"

"Nothing of all this is to the point now, SeÑor Candiola," I said impatiently; "come with me!"

"No," said he furiously. "No, it would be madness! My daughter has disgraced herself. I do not know why I did not kill her this morning. Until now I had supposed Mariquilla a model of virtue and honesty. I delighted in her companionship; and out of every good deal I set apart a real to buy her finery,—money badly spent! My God, dost thou punish me for wasting good money on useless things which if placed at interest would have been tripled? I had confidence in my daughter. This morning at daybreak, I began by praying with fervor to the Virgin del Pilar to free me from the bombardment. I tranquilly opened the window to see what the weather was. Put yourself in my place, seÑor soldier, and you will understand my surprise and pain at seeing two men right over there in that balcony,—two men, sir. I see them now! One of them was embracing my daughter. They were both dressed in uniform. I could not see their faces, for the light of day was yet faint. Hurriedly I left my room; but when I descended to the garden, the two were already in the street. My daughter was dumb at seeing her lightness discovered. Reading in my face the indignation which such vile conduct roused in me, she threw herself on her knees before me, begging my pardon. 'Wretch!' I said in a rage, 'you are not my daughter! You are not the daughter of this honorable man who has never done wrong to anybody. Mad child, shameless, you are not my daughter! Leave this place! Two men, two men in my house at night, with you! Have you not been making it easy for those men to rob me? Have you not shown them this house where there are a thousand objects of value which can be concealed in a pocket? You deserve death. If,—yes,—I am not deceived, those men carried away something. Two men, two sweethearts! And receiving them at night and in my house, dishonoring your father and offending God. And I from my room saw the light in yours, and believed that you were wakeful and working. You wretched little thing, while you were in the garden that light in your room was wasting, burning uselessly. You miserable woman!' Oh, seÑor soldier, I could not contain my indignation. I seized her by the arm and dragged her along to throw her out. In my anger I knew not what I did. The wretched girl begged my pardon, saying, 'I love him, father, I cannot deny that I love him.' My fury was redoubled at this, and I cried, 'Cursed be the bread that I have given you for nineteen years, to invite thieves into my house! Cursed be the hour when you were born, and the linens in which we wrapped you on the third of February in the year '91! Sooner shall the heavens fall, sooner shall the Virgin del Pilar let me go from her hand, than I will again be your father, and you be for me the Mariquilla that I have so much loved!'

"I had scarcely said this, seÑor, when it seemed as if the very heavens were rent in pieces, falling upon my house. What a terrible noise it was! A bomb fell upon the roof, and within five minutes two others fell. We ran in; the flames were spreading hungrily, and the falling of the roof threatened to bury us where we stood. We tried in great haste to save some few little things; but it was not possible. This house, this house which I bought in the year '87 for almost nothing, because the mortgage on it was foreclosed against a debtor who owed me five thousand reales with thirteen thousand reales interest,—this house was fairly crumbling to bits. Over there a plank fell; over there a pane of glass leaped out; on the side yonder the walls burst in. The cat yowled, and DoÑa Guedita fairly clawed me in the face as we got out of the room. I ventured into my own room to try to get some little receipts, and came near perishing."

Candiola's distress and moral suffering made it seem as if he had a nervous disorder. It was plain to be seen that terror and grief had completely upset him. His talkativeness was not of the sort that soothes the soul, it was a nervous overflow; and although he appeared to talk with me, he was in reality addressing himself to invisible beings. To judge by his gestures, they talked to him in turn. He went on talking, and answering questions which his imaginary interlocutors were asking him.

"I have said already that I shall not leave this place while such a quantity of things which can still be saved is not recovered. Indeed, am I going to abandon my estate? Are there no authorities in Saragossa? If there are, then a hundred or two workmen should be sent here to remove this dÉbris and take out something. But, seÑor, is there no one who has any charity for, any compassion upon this unhappy old man who has never harmed anybody? Shall one sacrifice all one's life for others, and, coming into such a plight as this, find no friendly hand held out to help him? No, no one comes, or if they do, it is to see if they can find any money among the ruins. Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed like a madman. "It is a good joke on them. I have always been a cautious man, and since the siege began I have put my frugal savings in a place so secure that I alone can find them. No, thieves! no, swindlers! no, selfish ones!—you would not find a real, though you should lift every fragment and break into bits the ruins of this house, though you make toothpicks of all the wood in it, though you reduce everything to powder and sift it!"

"Then, SeÑor Candiola," I said, taking him resolutely by the arm to lead him away, "if your treasures are safe, what is the good of staying here to watch them? Let us go!"

"Have you not understood me, you meddlesome fellow?" he cried, loosing his arm forcibly; "go to the devil, and leave me in peace! How do you suppose I am going to leave my house when the authorities of Saragossa have not sent a detachment of troops to guard it? Indeed! Do you suppose that my house is not full of valuable things? How can you think that I would go from here without taking them? You can see that this first story is unhurt? By removing this grating, it could be easily entered and everything taken away. If I tear myself from here for a single moment, the thieves will come, the refuse of the neighborhood, and woe to all my work and my savings then, to the furniture and utensils which represent forty years of hard work. Look on the table of my room, seÑor soldier, and you will find a copper dish which weighs no less than three pounds. That must be saved at any cost. If the authorities would send a company of engineers here, as it is their duty to do—There is a table service in the cupboard in the dining-room which must remain intact. By entering carefully, propping up the roof, they could save it. Oh, yes, it is absolutely necessary to save that set. It is not merely that, seÑor. In a tin box are my receipts. I hope to save them. There is also a trunk where I keep two old coats and some shoes and three hats. All these things are down here on this story, and are not likely to be hurt. My daughter's clothing is all irrecoverably lost. Her dresses, her jewelry, her handkerchiefs, her bottles of perfume would be worth a good sum of money if they were to be had now. How could it be that all this should be destroyed? My Lord, what trouble! It must be true that God wished to punish the sin of my daughter, and the bombs fell upon her bottles of perfume. I left my waistcoat upon the bed, and in the pocket there was a peseta and a half. And there are not even twenty men here yet with picks and spades. Just and merciful Heaven, what are the authorities of Saragossa thinking about! The double-wicked lamp will not be ruined. It is the best olive-oil burner in the world. We might find it over yonder, by lifting carefully the fragments of that corner room. Let them send workmen here, and see that they do it quickly. How can any one expect me to leave this place? If I should go, or if I should sleep for a single instant, the thieves would come. Yes, they will come, and take away that piece of copper from Palma."

The obstinacy of the miser was so persistent that I resolved to go without him, leaving him given over to his delirious anxiety. DoÑa Guedita now arrived, walking hastily. She brought a pick and spade, and a little basket in which I saw some provisions.

"SeÑor," she said, sitting down tired and breathless, "here's the pick and spade my nephew has given me. They will not need them any more, because they are not going to make any more fortifications. Here are some half-spoiled raisins and some crusts of bread." The old woman ate hungrily; not so Candiola, who, despising the bread, seized the pick. Resolutely, as if his body were suddenly filled with new energy, he tried to unhinge the grating; working with eager activity, he said,—

"If the authorities of Saragossa are not willing to do their duty by me, DoÑa Guedita, between you and me, we will do it all! You take the spade and get ready to move the fragments as I dig. Look out for the beams that are still smoking. Look out for the nails!"

I was trying to interpret the signs of intelligence made me by the housekeeper, when he turned to me, saying,—

"Go to the devil! What business have you in my house? Get out of here! We understand you,—you have come to see if you can pick up anything. There is nothing here. Everything is burned up."

There was certainly no hope of taking him with me to Las Tenerias to set poor Mariquilla's mind at rest, and so, not being able to stay any longer, I went. Master and servant were working away with great vigor.