M. de Mallet bore her back into the tent, and as soon as she was sufficiently recovered to enable him to think of any thing but herself, he dispatched one of the soldiers, appointed to attend them, to ascertain if the Irish monarch had escaped. The soldier did not return; and M. de Mallet, too impatient to remain in his tent, sallied forth to learn the news himself. Scarcely was he gone, however, when the soldier's wife, whom he had called to the assistance of Pauline, perceived the town was on fire. Pauline's agitation now became excessive; she trembled in every limb, and listened till the sense of hearing seemed agony. She could not comprehend the cause of the noise and bustle made by the citizens, as they came crowding into the camp; she looked forth, but the throng of half naked men, women, and children, that came hurrying along, seemed inexplicable; she stopped a woman, who, half dressed, had her clothes tucked up in one hand, whilst with the other she led two half naked children—"What is the matter?" asked she. "Roderick," cried the woman bewildered in her grief, "God bless the noble Roderick!"
"Where are you going?" demanded Pauline of two young men, bearing between them a bed containing their sick father.
"Roderick!" shouted the pious Spaniards. "Heaven, in its mercy, bless Roderick!" Pauline was proceeding in her inquiries, though without the smallest hope of receiving a direct reply, the hearts and minds of Spaniards being so full of Roderick, that no other name could find utterance from their lips, when she perceived her father.
"My dearest father!" cried she, running to him; "now I shall know all! What is the matter?"
"Roderick, the noble Roderick is safe!" repeated M. de Mallet. Pauline was chagrined—she longed to hear of Edric, and she envied, for his sake, the renown of the Irish hero. "Can you, too, speak of nothing but Roderick?" said she, somewhat reproachfully.
"And of whom else should I speak?" replied her father. "Who else deserves to be spoken of? for surely he is the bravest! the noblest of men!"
"I do not doubt it," observed Pauline coldly. "Every tongue utters his praise—every breast swells with gratitude at his goodness—and every hand is raised to Heaven in prayers on his behalf.
"Have there been many persons killed?" asked Pauline.
"How can you ask so foolish a question?" replied her father. "Do you not see the ground heaped with slain?"
"But persons of note, I mean?"