Had she run onward at once the wood beyond she would have been saved. That instant of triumph and mockery lost her.
The sergeant had put his revolver in his teeth; he knew now that he was a dead man; the slime was up to his chin, under his feet the grass and the mud quaked, yielded, yawned like a grave.
He drew his right arm out of the ooze, seized his revolver, and aimed at the dancing, mocking, triumphant figure beyond the border of golden sword rushes. With a supreme effort he fired; then he sank under the mud and weed.
The child dropped dead on the edge of the morass.
One by one each soldier sank. Not one escaped.
The water-birds came back from their upward flight and settled again on the swamp.
Underneath it all was still, save for the loud croaking of the frogs.
XX
Don Silverio rose with the dawn of day, and entered his church at five of the clock. There were but a few women gathered in the gaunt, dark vastness of the nave. The morning was hot, and the scent of buds and blossoms and fresh-cut grass came in from the fields over the broken walls and into the ancient houses.