And he did look.
"True!" he said, at the expiration of a minute. "Success to all cowards, say I, for having good eyes; I did not see it."
"Ay, but I did," said Don Ramón, rubbing his hands, quite revived, and marching off with great glee. But, at that moment, a nearly spent ball came ricocheting and whizzing close to his ear.
"Lord, have mercy upon me!" he cried, falling flat on his face, and so remaining, as motionless as if he were dead, although he had not received a scratch.
In the meantime, the General had likewise caused a flag of truce to be hoisted on his intrenchments, and had given orders for the firing to cease. The noise of the combat being hushed, the senator, like a rabbit relieved from alarm, raised his head a little; reassured by the silence which prevailed, he sat up, looking on all sides with the greatest anxiety, and, at length, convinced that the peril was over, he contrived to get upon his legs, which, however, trembled so frightfully under him, that they could scarcely support him.
[CHAPTER XXXVII.]
THE TRUCE.
As soon as the flag of truce was hoisted, firing at once ceased on both sides. The troops at bay, who had ceased to hope for succour, were not sorry to find that the insurgents saved their military honour by being the first to demand a parley. General Cornejo, in particular, was tired of the hopeless combat, which he had bravely maintained all the morning.
"Well, Don Ramón," he said, addressing the senator in a more cordial tone than he had before employed, "I think I have found means to enable you to escape without striking a blow; so what we agreed to stands good, does it not?"