The mere thought of how she had seen him thus made her hurry all the faster; and she hoped he would like the things which she had brought him to eat, for, poor boy, he had complained of being hungry the last time he came to them; and food was getting more scarce each day.
She reached the walls at last, and at the gate near the great convent of Santa Engracia, where Felipe had a gun, she was stopped by a sentinel who asked her business there.
“I come to see Felipe,” she answered briefly.
“A brother of thine, little one?” asked the soldier, as he noticed her basket, and tried to get a glimpse of her face through the mantilla.
“No, a friend,” was all she answered; for how could she tell this man that some day, when this war was over, she and Felipe were to be betrothed?
“Just a friend,” the man mimicked, and then, seeing her bent head, he said more gently: “Well, ’tis not allowed for friends to mount to the walls, but as it seems that you have something to eat, go you up. You will find Felipe at the gun at the second turn to the right.”
Up the rude steps to the top of the walls, Augustina hurried, past one, two, three guns. At the fourth stood Felipe!
“Oh, Felipe!” she cried, “where have you been these last two days? In truth I could wait no longer to know what had befallen you. See, here is a bit of meat, and all the bread that I could spare, for mother must not suffer, you know, else had I brought more.”
Felipe had just cleaned the gun for another charge, and as he stood beside it, he turned his weary and blackened face towards Augustina.
“I could not come,” he whispered hoarsely. “I have served this gun day and night since I saw you last, save for a few hours at night when those dastardly French had to rest too.”