"It is even so, my friend. The numbers, the fury, and the unabating exertions of the Mexicans, are greater than we looked for. We have lost many men, are reduced to great extremities for food, altogether dispirited, and now left so helpless, by the disaster of the king, that we have no hope but in flight."
"Is the king hurt?—and by a Spaniard?"
"Wounded by the stones and arrows of his own people, and now dying. And, it is thought, we can depart to best advantage, while the Mexicans are repenting the impiety that slew him."
"And we must retreat?"
"If we can;—a matter which we, who are mounted, are about to determine, by riding to the nearest causeway. This, dear father, will give Marco and Baltasar time to prepare thee. I will leave Lazaro and the secretary to assist them. Presently, we will return; and when we march, be it unopposed, or yet through files of the enemy, I swear to thee I will ride ever at thy side."
"And my boy?—my loving little page, Jacinto?" exclaimed the knight, anxiously: "Hath he returned to us? I have a recollection, that he was stolen away. 'Twill be a new sin to me, if he come to harm through my neglect."
"Let us think no more of Jacinto," said the novice with a sigh. "If he be living, he is now in the hands of Abdalla, his father, who has deserted from us, and is supposed to be harboured by the Mexicans. God is over all—we can do him no good—God will protect him!"
Don Gabriel eyed his kinsman sorrowfully, saying,
"Evil follows in my path, and overtakes those who follow after me. Every day open I mine eyes upon a new grief. I loved this child very well; and, for my punishment, he is taken from me. I love thee, also, Amador, whom I may call my son; for faithful and unwearying art thou; and, belike, the last blow will fall, when thou art snatched away. Guard well thy life, for it is the last pillar of my own!"
A few moments of affection, a few words of condolence, were bestowed upon Don Gabriel; and then the novice left him, to accompany the cavaliers to the causeway.