"I wish to go there! Viva the battalion of Orihuela! Viva the Marquis of Pino-Hermoso!" exclaimed Don José de Montoria, with tremendous fervor. "Señor de Araceli, let us go there! Lift me up. Isn't there a pair of crutches there? Señors, my legs have given out. But I will go there in spirit. My heart is there. Good-bye, child, beautiful little nurse. But what makes you look at me so? Do you know me? I think I have seen your face somewhere, but I don't remember where."
"I also have seen you once, only once," answered Mariquilla, tactfully, "and God grant you do not remember me!"
"I shall not forget your kindness," said Montoria. "You seem to be a good girl, and very pretty, that's sure. I am very grateful, most grateful. But bring those crutches or a stick, Señor de Araceli. Give me your arm. What is this which goes back and forth before my eyes? Let us go over there and drive the French out of the hospital."
Dissuading him from his rash idea of going out, I started alone, when I heard an explosion so loud that no words have power to describe it. It seemed as if the whole city had been thrown into the air by the eruption of an immense volcano from beneath its foundations. All the houses trembled. The sky was obscured by an immense cloud of smoke and dust, and along the whole length of the street we saw pieces of wall falling, and shattered fragments, and beams, roofs, tiles, showers of earth, and all sorts of things.
"Holy Virgin del Pilar, save us!" exclaimed Montoria. "It seems as if the whole world has blown up."
The sick and the wounded were crying out, believing that their last hour had come. We all commended ourselves to God.
"What is it? Is Saragossa still in existence?" one asked.
"Are we blown up too?"
"This terrible explosion must have been in the Convent of San Francisco," said I.
"Let us run over there," cried Montoria, trying to make strength of his weakness. "Señor de Araceli, did they not say that all precautions had been taken to defend San Francisco? Isn't there a pair of crutches anywhere here?"