The French had taken possession also of the battery of Los Martires. That same afternoon they were masters of the ruins of Santa Engracia and the convent of Trinitarios. Is it conceivable that the defence of one plaza continued after all that surrounded it was taken? No, it is not conceivable; nor in all military prevision has it ever been supposed that after the enemy had gained the walls by irresistible superiority of material strength, the houses would offer new lines of defence improvised on the initiative of every citizen. It is not conceivable that one house taken, a veritable siege must necessarily be organized to take the next one, employing the spade, the mine, the bayonet,—devising an ingenious stratagem against a partition wall. It is not conceivable that one part of a pavement being taken, it would be necessary to pass opposite to it to put into execution the theories of Vauban, and that to cross a gutter it would be necessary to make trenches, zig-zags, and covered ways.

The French generals put their hands to their brows, saying, "This is not like anything that we have ever seen. In the glorious annals of the empire one finds many passages like this: 'We have entered Spandau. To-morrow we shall be in Berlin.' That which had not yet been written was this: 'After two days and two nights of fighting, we have taken house No. 1 in the Calle de Pabostre. We do not know when we shall be able to take No. 2.'"

We had no time for rest. The two cannons that raked the Calle de Pabostre and the angle of the Puerta Quemada were left entirely without men. Some of us ran to serve them, and the rest occupied houses in the Calle de Palomar. The French stopped firing against the buildings which had been abandoned, repairing them and occupying them as rapidly as they could. They stopped up holes with beams, gravel, and sacks of wool. As they could not traverse without risk the space between their new quarters and the crumbling walls, they commenced to open a ditch and zig-zag from the Molino of the city to the house which we had occupied, and of which now only the lowest story offered any lodgment. We knew that when once masters of that house they would try, by tearing down partition walls, to gain possession of the whole block. In order to prevent this, the troops which we could spare were distributed through all the buildings in danger of such attack. At the same time our troops were raising barricades at the entrances of the streets, availing themselves of the rubbish and fragments in their work. We toiled with frenzied ardor in these various tasks. The fighting was least difficult of all. From inside the houses we threw down over the balconies all the furniture and movables. We carried the wounded outside, leaving the dead to the same fate as the buildings. Indeed, the only funeral honors that we could pay them was to leave them where they would not be disturbed. The French worked also to gain Santa Monica, the convent situated in a line with Las Tenerias, a little to the north of the Calle de Pabostre; but its walls offered a strong resistance, and it was not as easy to take as the fragile houses which the booming of the cannon caused to tremble. The volunteers of Huesca defended it vigorously; and, after repeated attacks, the besiegers left the assault for another day. Having gained possession only of a few houses, they remained in them when night came, like rabbits in a warren. Woe to the head that appeared at a window! The neighboring walls, the roofs, the skylights were filled with attentive eyes that saw the least carelessness of a French soldier, and guns were ready for him.

When night came, we began to make holes in the partition walls in order to open communication between all the houses in the same block. In spite of the incessant noise of the cannon, we could hear within the buildings the picks of the enemy occupied in the same sort of work as ourselves. As the architecture was fragile, and almost all the partition walls were of earth, we had in a short time opened passages between many houses.

About ten o'clock at night, we found ourselves in one which we knew must be very near that of Manuela Sancho, when we heard, through unknown conduits, through cellars and subterranean passages, a sound which we realized must be the voices of the enemy. A terrified woman came up a ladder and told us that the French were opening a gap in the wall of the room below. We descended instantly. We were not yet all in the cold, narrow, dark place, when at its mouth a gun was fired at us, and one of our companions was slightly wounded in the shoulder.

By the dim light we perceived several figures that forced their way into the room, and, advancing, fired, while others came behind. At the noise of gunshots, our friends hurried down to us, and we penetrated boldly into the dark place. The enemy did not remain in it, and as swiftly as possible hurried back through the hole they had opened in the wall, seeking refuge in the place whence they had come. We sent some balls after them. We were not completely in darkness, as they had a lantern some of whose feeble rays came through the aperture diffusing a reddish light over the theatre of the struggle.

I have never seen anything like it, nor did I ever behold a combat between four black walls by the faint light of a lantern that cast flickering shadows like spectres around us. The light was prejudicial to the French; for we were on the safe, dark side of the hole, and they were good targets for us. We shot at them for a short time, and two of our comrades fell, dead or badly wounded, upon the damp earth. In spite of this disaster, others came to push the advantage, assaulting the hole in the wall and penetrating into the enemy's den. But although fire had ceased there, it seemed as if the enemy were preparing for a better attack. Suddenly the lantern went out, and we were left in black darkness. We looked about for the way out, and stumbled against one another. This state of things, together with the fear of being attacked by superior forces, or that they would hurl shells into that sepulchre, made us huddle confusedly into the outer court as soon as we found the way. We took time, nevertheless, to find our two comrades who had fallen during the fray; then we went out and shut up the aperture with stones and rubbish and planks and barrels, whatever came to our hands in the court-yard. On going up, our commander detailed men in different parts of the house, leaving a couple of sentinels in the court to listen to the blows of the hostile pick. He sent me out with others to bring in a little food, of which we were all much in need.

In the street it seemed to us that we had come from a tranquil position into a very hell, for now in the dead of night the firing was continued between the houses and the walls. The clearness of the moonlight made it easy to run from one point to another without stumbling, and the streets were constantly traversed by bodies of troops and peasants who were going where, according to the public voice, there was some real danger. Many, not in the lines, guided by their own instincts, ran here and there, firing whenever opportunity offered. The bells of all the churches sounded a mournful call, and at each step we encountered groups of women carrying the wounded.

In all directions, especially at the extremities of the streets that ended at the walls of Las Tenerias, bodies were seen stacked up in piles, the wounded mingled with those already corpses. It was not possible to tell from which mouths came the pitiful voices that implored aid. I have never seen such horrible suffering. I was impressed more than by the spectacle of the disasters caused by iron and steel, seeing many who were suffering from the epidemic lying on the doorsteps of the houses, or dragging themselves through the throng in search of a safe place. They were dying every moment without having a sign of a wound upon them. Their teeth chattered with the dreadful chill, and they begged for help, holding out their hands because they could not speak.

In addition to all this, hunger was demoralizing us. We could scarcely stand.

"Where shall we ever find something to eat?" Augustine asked me. "Who is going to see about that?"

"This thing must end soon in one way or the other," I answered; "either the city will surrender, or we shall all perish."

At last, near the Coso, we met some of the commissary who were dealing out rations. We took ours eagerly, taking also all that we could carry for our comrades. They received it with a great racket, and a sort of joviality inappropriate to the circumstances. But the Spanish soldier is and always has been like that. While they were eating some crusts of bread as hard as cobble-stones, the unanimous opinion spread through the battalion that Saragossa never would surrender, and never should surrender.

It was midnight when the firing dwindled down. The French had not conquered a hand's breadth of earth more than the houses they had occupied at sunset, although they were not to be driven out of the quarters they had taken. This was left for the days that followed. When the influential men of the city, the Montorias, the Ceresos, the Sases, the Salameros, and the San Clementes were returning to Las Monicas, the scene that night of great prodigies of valor, they showed such tremendous courage and uttered such contempt of the enemy that it roused the spirits of all who saw and heard them.

"Little has been accomplished to-night," said Montoria. "Our men have been a bit remiss. It is true that it was not possible to drive them all out, nor ought we to have come out into the open, though the French attacked us with little energy. I have seen a few defeats, nothing of consequence. The nuns have beaten up plenty of oil with wine, and now it is only a question of binding up a few wounds. If there were time, it would be well to bury the dead in this heap, but there will be more presently. The epidemic is getting hold of more men. They need rubbing. Plenty of rubbing is what I believe in. For the present, they can very well go without broth. Broth is an unpleasant beverage. I would give them a dose of spirits. In a little while they would be able to handle a gun. Well, sirs, the fiesta appears to be over for to-night. Let us take a nap for half an hour, and to-morrow,—to-morrow, I have a notion that the French will make a formal attack upon us."

He turned to his son, who had come up with me, and cried out,—

"Oh, my Augustine, I have been asking for you, because in such a battle as to-day it happens that some must die. Are you wounded? You have nothing the matter? Let us see, a little gun-scratch? Ah, a trifle! It strikes me that you have scarcely borne yourself like a Montoria. And you, Araceli, have you lost any legs? Not even that! The two of you have just come out from some good shelter, I should say. You have not even turned a hair. It's a bad business. I call you a pair of hens! Go, rest awhile, not more than a hand's shake. If you feel yourselves attacked by the epidemic, rubbing and plenty of it is the best thing. Well, sirs, we depend upon it that to-morrow these houses will be defended wall by wall, partition by partition. The same thing will go on in every part of the city, and in every alcove there will be a battle. Let us go to the Captain-General, and see if Palafox agrees with us. There is no other way,—either to deliver the city to them, or to dispute each brick as if it were a treasure. We will tire them out. To-day six or eight thousand men have perished. Now let us go and see that most excellent SeÑor Don JosÉ. Good-night, boys, and to-morrow try and manage to shake off your cowardice."

"Let us go and sleep a little," I said to my friend. "Let us come to a house where I have seen some mattresses."

"I cannot sleep," said Montoria, walking on along the Coso.

"I know where you are going. We are not permitted to go as far as that, Augustine."

Many men and women were running up and down, back and forth in the broad avenue. All of a sudden a woman came running swiftly to us and embraced Augustine, speechless, deep emotion choking her.

"Mariquilla, Mariquilla of my heart!" exclaimed Montoria, embracing her joyously. "How is it that you are here? I was just now going in search of you."

Mariquilla could not speak, and, without the sustaining arm of her lover, her weak and wavering body would have fallen to the ground.

"Are you ill? What is the matter? Is it true that the bombs have destroyed your house?"

It was even so, and the young girl's whole aspect showed her great distress. Her clothing was that which we saw on her the night before. Her hair was loosened, and we could see burns upon her poor bruised arms.

"Yes," she said, at last, in a stifled voice. "Our house is gone. We have nothing. We have lost everything. This morning, soon after you had gone, a bomb destroyed the house, then two others fell."

"And your father?"

"My father is there, and will not abandon the ruins of the house. I have been looking for you all day, for you to help us. I have been under fire. I have been in all the streets of the suburb. I have entered several houses. I was afraid that you were dead."

Augustine seated himself in a gateway, and, sheltering Mariquilla with his military cloak, he held her in his arms as one holds a child. Freed thus from her terror, she could talk; and she told us that she had not been able to save a single thing. They had scarcely had time to get out of the house. The unhappy girl was trembling with cold, and, putting my cloak over Augustine's, we tried to take her to the house where we were on duty.

"No," she said, "I must go back to my father. He is wild and desperate, and is uttering blasphemies against God and the saints. I have not been able to get him away from that which was our house. We are in need of food. The neighbors were not willing to give us anything. If you are not willing to take me there, I will go alone."

"No, Mariquilla, no. You shall not go there," said Montoria. "We will put you in one of these houses where at least for to-night you will be safe. In the mean time Gabriel shall go in search of your father, and take him something to eat, and by persuasion or by force will get him away from there."

Mariquilla insisted upon returning to the Calle de Anton Trillo. But as she scarcely had strength to move, we took her in our arms to a house in the Calle de los Clavos, where Manuela Sancho was.