* * * * *
About day-break next morning Evelyn was buried hastily in a grassy spot among the ruins of the castle of Merida,—the alcalde having piously objected to the burial of a heretic in consecrated ground. Without other shroud but his tattered and bloody uniform,—without other coffin than his large military cloak,—he was lowered into the hastily made tomb. The chaplain of the brigade performed the burial service, and he was hurriedly covered up. A volley of carbines from his troop, and the sobs of his young widow as she stood by, leaning on the arm of Fassifern, were the last requiem of the English dragoon.
CHAPTER IV.
THE OUT-PICQUET.
"Then she is still alive:—
My lovely Lucrece in a Roman camp,
Midst hostile Tarquins! Would she had been slain!"
Fate of Capua: a Tragedy.
The patron of Ronald's billet could not give him any information about Donna Catalina, or any of the inmates of her mansion,—the hotel de Villa Franca, as the citizens named it. He knew that it had been occupied by the French, whose commanding officer quartered himself upon it as the best house in the place, and that his soldiers had burnt it when they saw that they should be compelled to abandon Merida, on the second advance of the British. From the first occupation of the town by the enemy, none of the Villa Franca family had been seen. This was all the information he could obtain, and Ronald was led to conclude that Catalina and her cousin had escaped, and might be at Majorga, or some other town on the Spanish frontiers.
The poor patron was a potter by trade, and made brown earthenware crocks and jars, which he retailed through Estremadura in panniers slung on the back of a mule; but he earned barely sufficient to support his wife and family. Nevertheless, to show their loyalty to King Ferdinand, and their gratitude to his allies, the patrona had, by dint of much exertion, procured for Ronald on the morning of his departure what was considered in Spain a tolerable breakfast.
On the wooden table was placed a large crock full of boiled pork and peas, opposite to which stood a jar of goat's milk, plates of eggs, dried raisins, and white bread,—even coffee was on the table; a display altogether of viands that raised the wonder and increased the appetites of the six hungry children who crowded round the board, holding up their little brown hands with many exclamations of wonder, and cries to their madre and padre to help them; but their parents were intent on doing the honours of the table to the noble caballero.
In one corner of the miserable apartment lay the glossy hide of an English horse. Ronald, by some particular spots, recognised it to be that of Eveleyn's charger, about the flaying of which the host had been employed since day-break, intending as he said to make it into caps and shoes for his children. The latter were all swarthy and active, but sadly disguised by rags and filth, which obscured the natural beauty of their Spanish faces and figures, excepting one little girl, about ten years of age, who appeared to be her mother's pet, and consequently was more neatly dressed. Ronald was often amused at the looks of wonder with which this little creature watched him while eating—keeping at a distance as if he was an ogre; but when she became more familiar, venturing to touch the black feathers of his bonnet and other parts of his glittering dress, though always keeping close to the short skirt of the madre's petticoat, as if she feared being eaten up, or carried off for some future meal, by the strange caballero, the richness of whose uniform filled the little boys with wonder and envy.
At last, by dint of much entreaty, she permitted herself to be drawn towards him. Raising up her radiant eyes, she took a copper crucifix from her bosom, and asked him if the people in his country wore a thing like that. On his telling her no, she broke away from his arm, and crying, "O mi madre,—the heretic! the devil!" hid her face in her mother's skirt; while the rest of the children shrunk around their father, grasping his legs for safety, and even he seemed much discomposed. Not liking the idea of being regarded as a bugbear, Ronald, in the grey day-light, finished his breakfast as speedily as possible, and was hurried in doing so by the warning bugles for the march.