Yes, and after all I am very tired of this dreadful life. It is a kind of convent. One is buried alive here, and still not safe. Do you really imagine that Luis is with my father and Thomas?”
“I feel sure of it.”
“What a great enjoyment it will be for me to see him again!”
“And how delighted he will be! And as it is necessary that we go, Isabel, we must make the best of the necessity. Try and get mi madre to feel this.”
“I can do that with a few words, and tears, and kisses. Mi madre is like one’s good angel—very easy to persuade.”
“And now we must try and sleep, queridita.”
“Are you sure there is no danger to-night, Antonia?”
“Not to-night. Say your prayer, and sleep in God’s presence. There is yet nothing to fear. Ortiz and Lopez Navarro are watching every movement.”
But at three o’clock in the morning, the quiet of their rest was broken by sharp bugle calls. The stars were yet in the sky, and all was so still that they thrilled the air like something unearthly. Antonia started up, and ran to the roof. Bugle was answering bugle; and their tones were imperative and cruel, as if they were blown by evil spirits. It was impossible to avoid the feeling that the call was a PREDESTINED summons, full of the notes of calamity. She was weighed down by this sorrowful presentiment, because, as yet, neither experience nor years had taught her that PREDESTINED ILLS ARE NEVER LOST.
The unseen moving multitudes troubled the atmosphere between them. In wild, savage gusts, she heard the military bands playing the infamous Dequelo, whose notes of blood and fire commingled, shrieked in every ear—“NO QUARTER! NO QUARTER!” A prolonged shout, the booming of cannon, an awful murmurous tumult, a sense of horror, of crash and conflict, answered the merciless, frenzied notes, and drowned them in the shrieks and curses they called for.