One of my comrades and I tried for awhile to save Candiola from certain death; but we only succeeded by force of prayers and persuasions, saying,—
"Boys, do not commit an outrage. What harm can this ridiculous old wretch do?"
"It is true," said Candiola, with the calmness of despair; "what harm can I do who am always busy aiding those in need? Do not kill me! You are soldiers of the Estremadura and las Peñas de San Pedro; you are all good fellows. You were burning those houses in Las Tenerias where I found the chicken that I sold for a doubloon. Who says that I sell myself to the French? I hate them; I cannot bear to look at them; and I love you as my own life. I have lost everything. Leave me my life, at least."
These pleadings, and my prayers and those of my friend, softened the soldiers a little; and, when their first outburst of anger was over, it was easy for us to save the wretched old man. The soldiers were presently relieved, and he was in perfect safety; but he never even thanked us when we offered him a bit of bread, after saving his life. A little later, when he recovered his breath enough to walk, he went on out of the street and joined his daughter.
CHAPTER XXVII
That afternoon almost all the efforts of the French were directed against the suburb from the left of the Ebro. They assaulted the Monastery of Jesus, and bombarded the Church of the Virgin del Pilar, where the greater number of sick and infirm had found refuge, believing that the sanctity of the place offered them greater security than any other spot.
In the centre of the city, we did not work much that day. All our attention was concentrated upon the mines, and our efforts directed to giving the enemy evidence that, before consenting to be blown up ourselves, we would discuss blowing them up, or at least flying upwards together.
At night both armies seemed given over to peaceful repose. The rough blows of the pick were no longer heard in the subterranean galleries. I sallied forth; and near San Diego I found Augustine and Mariquilla, who were talking quietly together, seated sedately upon the doorstep of the house los Duendes. They were very glad to see me; and I joined them, sharing the scraps of bread of which they were making their supper.
"We have nowhere to stay," said Mariquilla. "We were in a portico in the Organo alley; but we were driven out. Why is it that so many people detest my poor father? What harm has he done them? We took refuge afterwards in a corner of the Calle de las Urreas, and were driven out of there too. We sat down afterwards under an arch in the Coso, and all those who were there fled away from us. My father was furious."