“Oh, Gertrudis!” cried Marianita, now leaning out from the window, and clinging convulsively to one of the iron bars, “come hither and see them! You can tell whether it be Don Rafael. I do not know him. If it be he, your voice might encourage him.”
“I cannot—I cannot!” replied Gertrudis, in a voice quivering with emotion. “Oh, sister! I dare not look upon such a spectacle. ’Tis he—too well my heart tells me it is he—oh, I can only pray for him!”
“They are both mounted on dark-coloured horses. One of them is a little man. He is in the costume of an arriero. That cannot be Don Rafael!”
“The other? the other?” cried Gertrudis in a low but anxious tone.
“The other,” answered Marianita, “is a head taller than the first. He sits his horse like a centaur. Now I can see his face distinctly. He has a fine noble countenance, with black moustaches. There is a band of gold lace on his hat. The danger does not appear to alarm him. Ah! he is a noble, handsome fellow.”
“It is he!” cried Gertrudis, in a voice that could be heard high above the mêlée of sounds. “Yes—it is Don Rafael!” she repeated, springing to her feet, as if with the intention of beholding him once more before he should be engulfed in the flood of waters. “Where, sister? where?” she continued, gliding towards the window; but before she had made three steps across the chamber, her strength failed her, and she sank half-fainting upon the floor.
“Mercy!” exclaimed Marianita, half stupified with terror. “Oh! Jesus Maria! another bound of their horses, and they will be safe! Valga me Dios! too late—too late! there are the waters. Oh! their wild roar! hear how they beat against the walls. Mother of God! shield these brave men! They hold one another by the hand! They bury their spurs in their horses’ flanks! They ride forward without fear! They advance upon the frothing flood, as if they were charging upon an enemy! Virgin of Paradise! one of them, the smaller, is actually chaunting a hymn!”
In effect, at that moment the voice of a man was heard above the rush of the water, crying out in measured accents—
“In manus tuas, Domine! commendo animam meam!”
“Merciful Father!” cried Marianita, “I see them no more, the waters are over them both!”