"Fallen?"
"Two days ago."
"Hurrah! Well done Lord Wellington!" cried Bevan, draining his glass.
"The devil!" muttered Campbell; "then we shall have no fighting with Marmont."
"He has retreated to Salamanca," said the condé, "abandoning to its fate the fortress, which I saw the gallant Inglesos carry by storm in the course of half-an-hour,—killing, wounding, and capturing three thousand of the enemy."
"Glorious news, Don Balthazzar," said Ronald. "But refresh yourself: here is sherry, and there Malaga, with cigars in abundance. After you have rested, we shall be glad to hear an account of the assault."
"I thank you, senor caballero," said the count, providing himself.
"What is our loss?" asked Campbell. "Have many officiales y soldados fallen?'
"What the allies suffered I have never heard,—at least 'twas not known when I left for Castello Branco; but two brave general officers have been slain."
"Their names, condé?"