The officers bowed and retired. Don Juan prepared to follow them.
"Stay," the General said to him; "I have one final recommendation to give you."
The young man walked up to him.
"Shut yourself up carefully in the place," the General went on. "If you are invested, do not attempt any of those sallies, which often compromise the fate of a garrison, without positive advantage. Content yourself with vigorously repulsing attacks, sparing the blood of your soldiers, and not expending your ammunition needlessly. So soon as my final arrangements are made, I will march in person to your help; but you must resist till then, at any cost."
"I have already told you I will do so, General."
"I know that you will. Now, my friend, to horse, and may you be fortunate."
"Thanks, General."
The Colonel bowed, and immediately withdrew to place himself at the head of the small band, which, collected a short distance off, only awaited his arrival to start. The General was standing in the doorway of his tent to witness their departure. Don Juan mounted, drew his sabre, and turned toward the motionless detachment.
"Forward!" he commanded.
The squadrons at once started, and began drawing out in the darkness like the black folds of an ill-omened serpent. The General remained in the doorway of his tent for some time, and when the last sound had died away in the night, he pensively re-entered the tent, and let the curtain fall behind him, muttering in a low and sad voice—