Turning to the second he thus continued:—
“Young man, pause—death is bitter! thou hast many a day of life and happiness before thee, if thou wilt but choose wisely.”
“I have chosen!” was the calm reply. “And now permit me an indulgence—a few last words. I see the faces of deadly enemies around me, and, on the blenched countenances of some dastard Spaniards, who stoop and kiss the foot that presses on their necks, I look in vain for sympathy; but the very walls around me will find a tongue, and the last message of ‘The Student’ will be correctly carried to his friend, the Empecinado. Tell him I died a true and faithful Spaniard. Tell him, that my friend and I were slaughtered in cold blood, and that we expect at his hands ample and immediate vengeance! Proceed!—art thou ready, Velasquez?”
A silent inclination of the head was returned by his fellow-sufferer, to the Student. Colonel La Coste signalled to the officer, and the firing party shouldered arms. A dead silence prevailed, and, at the movement of the muskets, my heart beat wildly as a startled girl. Many of the French soldiery turned pale, and but a very few looked on the scene of death with indifference. The emotions of the peasants were now beyond concealment, and tears and prayers were freely given to the sufferers.
“Are you ready?” inquired the commandant.
The elder Spaniard bowed, while the Student boldly exclaimed, “Ready!”
Colonel La Coste nodded to the lieutenant; at a motion of his sword, the firing party came to the present, and the next moment the fatal word was given—a volley answered it—and Velasquez and his companion dropped dead on the pavement of the court-yard. Hastily, a cloth was thrown over the bleeding bodies, the court-yard was cleared, the soldiers were ordered to rest and refresh themselves, and I returned to the kitchen of the posada, at the same time a guest and prisoner; and, in the same apartment, and within twelve hours,—I supped with the departed, and breakfasted with their executioners—Such is the fortune of war!