The order was instantly obeyed; the horses of the chasseurs resaddled, and, with a dozen picked sharpshooters to scour such portions of the wood as might be impenetrable to the cavalry, Captain St. Pierre rode off to recover a reputation he considered tarnished by his recent failure; and, dead or living, bring back to his commander that dreaded chief, the Empecinado.
The preparations for this new expedition consumed nearly half an hour; the Spaniards sullenly resumed their seats; I sunk into sombre meditations; and in short, everybody, captives and captors, appeared superlatively unhappy. It was a relief when the door opened, and Colonel La Coste entered the kitchen of the posada, accompanied by a person who bore the appearance of a civic magistrate. Once more the Spaniards were placed before their judge; and the Alcade, for such the stranger proved, assented silently to all the French commandant decreed.
“I know not, nor ask your names—you are rebels to the king, and false to France and your country!”
“A lie! by the immortal Judge!” boldly returned the elder partida.
“True to Spain, ay, true to the last. Pshaw!—Abridge this mockery. We are doomed—we know it. Speak the sentence, and let the spirit, as it was ever, still be free!”
“You know all the circumstances of this case already,” observed Colonel La Coste, addressing himself to the Alcade: “these men are traitors. What penalty should be exacted for treason and rebellion?” The Spaniard looked confusedly around, turned his eyes aside, and then, in an under tone that scarcely reached the ear, he muttered, “Death!”
Low as the voice was in which the opinion was delivered, it fell upon the ready ear of the younger of the partidas.
“Death!” he exclaimed, “and doomed to that dread penalty by a countryman?—Countryman!—no, no,—the craven has no country. Live, Julian Lopez, live for a brief time; but let me add the terms on which that wretched existence of thine shall be continued. From the hand that tenders a petition, dread the knife. Reject the food offered thee—it will be drugged. Touch not the wine-cup—it will be poisoned. Well, though thou escape these, a more infamous fate will be reserved for thee: you will perish on a tree; none pitying, and all pouring out execrations as you go along. Some galley-slwe will affix the felon-halter; and when the carrion is committed to mother earth, every true Spaniard as he passes the unholy spot that covers it, will strike his boot upon the clay, and mutter ‘Curses on the ashes of the traitor!’”
“Stop!” cried the commandant. “Advance these criminals;—you guess your doom——”
“Guess?” asked the elder partida; “no, no—to guess would infer uncertainty. We know it well. Thou and I, Jose, shall die as many better patriots have died before us.”