In about an hour Mr. Higgins entered, saying, “I have been out of town above two leagues and can see nothing of them. If they do come, they will have every reason to treat us with attention, for they will find their own wounded lying alongside of ours, provided with the same comforts and the same care.”
On the 6th, reports of the enemy’s approach were treated with total disregard. Between eight and nine o’clock the galloping of horses was heard in the street. The women ran to the windows and instantly shrank back, pale as death, with finger on lip.
“Los demonios!” they whispered, and then on tiptoe watched in breathless expectation of seeing some bloody scene.
“They have swords and pistols all ready,” cried Manoela, trembling.
“How’s this?” cried old Donna Pollonia. “Why, they pass the English soldiers. They go on talking and laughing. Jesus! Maria! What does it mean?”
Presently Mr. Higgins came in. He had ridden out to meet the French General, and had found that officer full of encomiums and good assurances.
“Your wounded are the most sacred trust to our national generosity. As for you, medical gentlemen, who have been humane and manly enough not to desert your duty to your patients (many of whom are Frenchmen), stay amongst us as long as you please. You are as free as the air you breathe.”
The town owed much to Mr. Higgins!
To prepare for the approaching crisis, to ride forth and parley with the enemy and persuade him that he owes you respect, gratitude—this is to be an officer of the first class. Throughout Mr. Higgins displayed the character of no common man.
We should say something of the household among which the Captain was placed.