"The Marquis, as Governor of Ciudad Heal, dared to confirm this unjust sentence, which he directed should be put in execution in the Plaza, at eight o'clock on the following morning.
"Far, far from aid and my comrades; wholly at the mercy of men, whose hearts the cunning charge of the last witness had totally closed against me; aware of the futility of denial and defiance, and the hopelessness of rescue or escape, I sat in a grated room of the public carcel, or gaol, of the town, almost stupefied by the suddenness, the shame, and opprobrium of my impending fate. 'Poets and painters,' says a certain writer, 'have ever made the estate of a man condemned to die one of their favourite themes of comment or description.' By heavens! I never met one of either which came within a thousand degrees of the agony I endured that night at Ciudad Real. I, a gentleman, a soldier, bearing on my person three wounds, won on that accursed Spanish soil; innocent of all they alleged; young, with a long life and rapid promotion before me, to be cut off thus—strangled like a garotted villain—hanged like a dog, to glut the noonday frenzy of a Spanish rabble! Horrible! I had often faced death without shrinking; but now, like a coward's, my whole soul shrunk from such a death as that which these Spaniards meted out to me.
"The night came on: I sat in darkness, revolving a myriad futile plans of escape. I was to die to-morrow, and that conviction seemed palpably before me. I heard it, saw it, felt it; there was a dull sound humming in my ears—a tingling in my heart. I recollected, with remorse and shame, how coldly, calmly, and unmoved I had seen the provost-marshal's guard hang six soldiers on the retreat from Burgos. I remembered their struggles, their agonies, and wondered how they felt. I passed a hand over my throat, compressed it a little, and shuddered.
"And now, in the man who had accused me of sacrilege, I suddenly remembered Barba Roxa, the robber, and the hand I had maimed was that which he retained in his sash.
"'Fool! fool! that I am,' I exclaimed, bitterly; 'where were my eyes, my ears, my faculties, that knew him not before? This is his revenge—his Spaniard's triumph.'
"Even my friend, the aide-de-camp, seemed to have abandoned me; and could it be that the pretty daughter of the Marquis had not pleaded, or said one kind word to save the poor officer who had so freely risked his life for hers?
"All at once my stupor left me. I sprang to the bars of the window, and from their solid sockets, madly strove to wrench them with a tiger's strength. I felt every corner; the vast iron lock of the door, the door itself moveless as a wall of adamant. Vain, vain! I was to die to-morrow, and my swollen heart almost burst with emotion, when I thought of my friends, my family, and my regiment, all canvassing the various causes of a death so ignominious.
"A face appeared suddenly at the window, which was raised.
"'Don't be alarmed, yer honour, it's only me,' said a voice.
"'Crogan—you!' I exclaimed, in the confusion of my thoughts; 'are you not dead—in heaven?'