"Hark to the distant roar! One might deem that we were near the sea!" cried one of the smugglers.
"It's a sea, I warrant ye, that will send many a proud galley to the bottom ere the sun go down," observed a thief, whom his previous conversation had shown to be also a keen politician.
"It's a sea that won't be stilled by Claret's sprinkling drops of holy oil upon it!" said a gipsy; and what a devout Romanist must have deemed a profane jest, was received with a burst of laughter.
"Let the sea rage as it will," observed Diego the chulo to Aguilera, "so that it bear back to old Spain the noblest man that ever drew breath in her air. I'll drink the health of Prim yet in a bumper of wine, and down with—"
The chulo had not time to conclude his sentence, when the louder, nearer noise of vivas from a thousand voices showed that the massive prison door no longer dulled outer sounds, or obstructed the free passage of the mob into the building. In surged the rushing human torrent; in one minute the corridor was, as their voices showed, filled by an excited rabble; the next minute the dividing door was burst open! The mob rushed into the dungeon, its walls resounded with loud vivas, re-echoed by most of the prisoners thus suddenly released from confinement, and let loose to swell the numbers of the wild crowd. The noise and confusion which prevailed were so great that it was difficult at the first instant to gain a clear idea of what had occurred; but it was soon as well known in the prison as it was already through every corner of Seville, that great and exciting news had arrived from Madrid during the course of the night. The reins of power had suddenly been wrenched from the hand of Queen Isabella; the sovereign of Spain had fled the kingdom; her minions had barely escaped with their lives; the fabric of government was overthrown, and no one could tell what would replace it. Like the criminals from the dungeon, all the fiercer passions of men were let loose, and who would have power to rule them?
If the prison of Seville had been suddenly filled almost to suffocation, it was nearly as suddenly emptied. There was nothing in it to tempt cupidity, nothing to retain the excited mob; and those who had been inmates of the gloomy abode were the most eager of the throng to rush forth into the free air. Robbers and murderers remembered that there might be palaces to plunder, and enemies to pursue. Aguilera found himself almost alone in the dungeon where, but a few minutes before, he had hardly had space wherein to breathe. Diego only remained by him still.
"Shall we follow the rest, señor?" asked the chulo. "There's not a jailer dare draw a bolt on us now. Methinks your prayer last night, like that of St. Paul, has been answered by an earthquake."
"I will return to my house, if I have strength to reach it," replied Alcala, making an effort to walk to the door. The cavalier was very desirous that at a time when anarchy and confusion prevailed throughout Seville, he should be in his home to protect the ladies of his family.
"You will scarcely reach the Calle de San José on foot, illustrious caballero," observed the chulo. "If it please you to wait in the corridor for awhile, it will go hard with me if I cannot find a mule, or some kind of conveyance, to bear you back to your home."
"I am greatly indebted to you, my friend," gratefully answered Alcala, who felt that without such aid as that proffered by Diego, it would be hardly possible for him to return to his dwelling.