Chapter Thirty.
The Poor Ladies.
Quite a combination of circumstances had favoured the escape of the four forzados—the balking of the horses, the absence of Dominguez, and the relaxed vigilance of the guards—from their brains bemuddled with drink. But there was yet another lucky chance that stood them in stead—the point from which they had started. The line of sentries ended at the Alamedas Gate, and, as the one posted there was he who had them in particular charge, once past him they had only to fear a single bullet sent after them.
As it turned out, they did not even get that, fortune favouring them in every way. This sentry, though last on the line outward, was the first encountered by the people returning from the ceremony at San Corme; therefore made most of by passing friends, with the bottle oftener presented to his lips. As a consequence, when the carriage whirled past him he had but an indistinct idea of why it was going so fast, and none at all as to who were in it. With eyes drowned in aguardiente he stood as one dazed, looking after, but taking no measures to stop it. When at length some one bawled the truth into his ear and he brought his flint-lock to an unsteady level, it would have been too late—had the piece gone off. Luckily for those on the sidewalk, it did not; missing fire by a flash in the pan, as might have been anticipated.
Never were sentries more completely taken by surprise than they guarding the chain-gang. Nor more disagreeably. They knew they had been neglecting their duty, and might expect severe punishment! possibly set at the very task they were now superintending! Still, they made no attempt to pursue. They were not cavalry; and only mounted men could overtake that landau with its curious load, soon to vanish from their sight. So they stood gazing after it in helpless bewilderment, their faces showing a variety of expressions, surprise, anger, fear, mingled in a most ludicrous manner. Deserting their posts they had gathered into a knot, and it was some time before they had so far recovered their senses as to think of despatching one of their number to the Plaza Grande after cavalry sure to be there.
It was a fine opportunity for others of the gaol-birds to make a bolt; but for the obstructive coupling-chains no doubt some would avail themselves of it. These, however, hindered the attempt. There were no more restive horses, nor blundering coachmen to bring another carriage near enough for a rush.
But the most interesting group now on the ground was that which had collected round the ladies left carriage-less; some offering services, others speaking words of sympathy. “Las señoritas pobres!”
“Pobrecitas!”—(“The poor young ladies!” “Poor things!”) were exclamations uttered over and over again.