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."