"But I do not wish to die!" said the senator, bursting into tears; "I am no soldier. Oh! I implore you, my good, my inestimable Don Tiburcio Cornejo, let me go away!"
The General shrugged his shoulders.
"What consequence can it be to you?" the senator continued, in a supplicating tone; "do save my life! show me which way I can get out of this cursed confusion."
"Eh! how the devil do I know?"' the General said, impatiently.
"Well, now, look here," said the senator; "you owe me two thousand piastres, which I won of you at Monte, do you not?"
"What then?" the General, vexed at this ill-timed remark, said, sharply.
"Get me away from here, and I will cry quits."
"You are a fool, Don Ramón; do you think if I could get safely away from here, that I would remain?"
"I see what you are," said the senator, despondingly; "you are but a false friend, you desire my death, you thirst for my blood."
In short, the poor man was almost mad; he knew not what he said, terror had deprived him of the little sense he ever possessed. But, in reality, the position became every instant more critical; the carnage was horrible, the soldiers fell one after another beneath the bullets of the insurgents, who were sheltered by every corner of the plaza. Two or three sorties attempted by the troops had been vigorously repulsed; and hence, decimated as they were, all they could possibly do now was to prevent their intrenchments from being carried.