Saragossa: A Story of Spanish Valor

by Benito Pérez Galdós

CHAPTER XIX

The firing of the guns and cannon ceased. A great splendor was illumining the city. It was the burning of the Audiencia. The fire, beginning about midnight, was devouring all four sides of that splendid edifice at one time. Without heeding anything but my errand, I hurried to the Calle de Anton Trillo. The house of Candiola had been burning all day. At last the flame had been stifled by pieces of falling roofs, and between the portions of walls still standing issued black columns of smoke. Through the window-frames showed patches of sky, and the bricks, crumbling away, had made a ragged-toothed looking thing of that which had been an architrave. Part of the wall which fronted on the garden had fallen down over the balcony, covering the end where the railing and the stone stairway had been, its stones spreading forward to the street wall. In the midst of these ruins the cypress stood unharmed, like the life which remains when the substance is gone. It raised its black head like a memorial. The gate had been destroyed by the axes of those who had rushed up at first to try to put out the fire.

When I penetrated into the garden, I saw some people at the right and near the grating of a lower window. It was the part of the house which was best preserved. And, indeed, the lower floor had suffered little, perhaps nothing; the bulging out of the roof of the principal part had not affected this, although it was to be expected that it would give way sooner or later under the great weight. I approached the group to find Candiola. He was there, seated close to the grating with his hands crossed, his head upon his breast, his clothing torn and burned. He was surrounded by a little crowd of women and boys, who were buzzing about him like bees, pouring forth the whole gamut of insults and taunts. It cost me no great trouble to put the swarm to flight; and although they did not all go far away, and persisted in hanging about, thinking to get a chance at the gold of the rich Candiola, he was at least freed from the annoyance of their immediate presence, and the sneers and cruel jests with which he had been tormented.

"Señor soldier," he said to me, "I am grateful to you for putting this vile mob to flight. Here my house is burned and no one helps me. Are there no authorities now in Saragossa, señor? What a people! What a people! It is not because we have not paid our taxes."

"The civil authorities do not occupy themselves except with the military operations," I answered him; "and so many houses have been destroyed that it is impossible to run to them all."

"May he be cursed a thousand times!" he cried, "a thousand curses be on the head of him who has brought all this distress upon us! May he be tormented in hell for a thousand eternities, and then he would not pay the penalty of his crime. But what the devil are you looking for here, señor soldier? Are you not willing to leave me in peace?"

"I have come in search of Señor Candiola," I replied, "in order to take him where he can be looked after, have his wounds dressed, and be given a little food."

"For me? I will not leave my house," he cried in a sad voice. "The committee will have to rebuild it for me. Where do you want to take me? I am in the situation now to be offered alms. My enemies have their will, which was to put me in the position of begging alms. But I shall not beg, no. I will sooner eat my own flesh and drink my own blood than humble myself before those who have brought me to such a state. Perhaps they have sold themselves to the French, and prolong the resistance to earn their money. Then they will deliver the city, and they will be all right."

"Do leave all those considerations for another time!" I said. "And follow me now, because it is not the time to think about all that. Your daughter has found a place of safety, and we will give you a refuge in the same place."