are the bravest man living. You have saved my life. I am General Robles. Come to my quarters to-morrow if God gives us the grace to see another day.' "He never stirred -- as if deaf, without feeling, in- sensible. "We rode away for the town, full of our relations, of our friends, of whose fate we hardly dared to think. The soldiers ran by the side of our horses. Everything was forgotten in the immensity of the catastrophe over- taking a whole country." . . . . . . . Gaspar Ruiz saw the girl open her eyes. The raising of her eyelids seemed to recall him from a trance. They were alone; the cries of terror and distress from homeless people filled the plains of the coast remote and immense, coming like a whisper into their loneliness. She rose swiftly to her feet, darting fearful glances on all sides. "What is it?" she cried out low, and peer- ing into his face. "Where am I?" He bowed his head sadly, without a word. ". . . Who are you?" He knelt down slowly before her, and touched the hem of her coarse black baize skirt. "Your slave," he said. She caught sight then of the heap of rubbish that had been the house, all misty in the cloud of dust. "Ah!" she cried, pressing her hand to her forehead. "I carried you out from there," he whispered at her feet. "And they?" she asked in a great sob. He rose, and taking her by the arms, led her gently towards the shapeless ruin half overwhelmed by a land- slide. "Come and listen," he said. The serene moon saw them clambering over that

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heap of stones, joists and tiles, which was a grave. They pressed their ears to the interstices, listening for the sound of a groan, for a sigh of pain. At last he said, "They died swiftly. You are alone." She sat down on a piece of broken timber and put one arm across her face. He waited -- then approaching his lips to her ear: "Let us go," he whispered. "Never -- never from here," she cried out, flinging her arms above her head. He stooped over her, and her raised arms fell upon his shoulders. He lifted her up, steadied himself and began to walk, looking straight before him. "What are you doing?" she asked, feebly. "I am escaping from my enemies," he said, never once glancing at his light burden. "With me?" she sighed, helplessly. "Never without you," he said. "You are my strength." He pressed her close to him. His face was grave and his footsteps steady. The conflagrations bursting out in the ruins of destroyed villages dotted the plain with red fires; and the sounds of distant lamentations, the cries of Misericordia! Misericordia! made a desolate murmur in his ears. He walked on, solemn and col- lected, as if carrying something holy, fragile, and precious. The earth rocked at times under his feet.

IX

WITH movements of mechanical care and an air of abstraction old General Santierra lighted a long and thick cigar. "It was a good many hours before we could send a party back to the ravine," he said to his guests. "We

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had found one-third of the town laid low, the rest shaken up; and the inhabitants, rich and poor, reduced to the same state of distraction by the universal disaster. The affected cheerfulness of some contrasted with the despair of others. In the general confusion a number of reckless thieves, without fear of God or man, became a danger to those who from the downfall of their homes had managed to save some valuables. Crying 'Miseri- cordia' louder than any at every tremor, and beating their breast with one hand, these scoundrels robbed the poor victims with the other, not even stopping short of murder. "General Robles' division was occupied entirely in guarding the destroyed quarters of the town from the depredations of these inhuman monsters. Taken up with my duties of orderly officer, it was only in the morning that I could assure myself of the safety of my own family. My mother and my sisters had escaped with their lives from that ballroom, where I had left them early in the evening. I remember those two beautiful young women -- God rest their souls -- as if I saw them this moment, in the garden of our destroyed house, pale but active, assisting some of our poor neigh- bours, in their soiled ball-dresses and with the dust of fallen walls on their hair. As to my mother, she had a stoical soul in her frail body. Half-covered by a costly shawl, she was lying on a rustic seat by the side of an ornamental basin whose fountain had ceased to play for ever on that night. "I had hardly had time to embrace them all with transports of joy when my chief, coming along, dis- patched me to the ravine with a few soldiers, to bring in my strong man, as he called him, and that pale girl. "But there was no one for us to bring in. A land- slide had covered the ruins of the house; and it was

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like a large mound of earth with only the ends of some timbers visible here and there -- nothing more. "Thus were the tribulations of the old Royalist couple ended. An enormous and unconsecrated grave had swallowed them up alive, in their unhappy obstinacy against the will of a people to be free. And their daughter was gone. "That Gaspar Ruiz had carried her off I understood very well. But as the case was not foreseen, I had no instructions to pursue them. And certainly I had no desire to do so. I had grown mistrustful of my inter- ference. It had never been successful, and had not even appeared creditable. He was gone. Well, let him go. And he had carried off the Royalist girl! Nothing better. Vaya con Dios. This was not the time to bother about a deserter who, justly or unjustly, ought to have been dead, and a girl for whom it would have been better to have never been born. "So I marched my men back to the town. "After a few days, order having been re-established, all the principal families, including my own, left for Santiago. We had a fine house there. At the same time the division of Robles was moved to new canton- ments near the capital. This change suited very well the state of my domestic and amorous feelings. "One night, rather late, I was called to my chief. I found General Robles in his quarters, at ease, with his uniform off, drinking neat brandy out of a tumbler -- as a precaution, he used to say, against the sleepless- ness induced by the bites of mosquitoes. He was a good soldier, and he taught me the art and practice of war. No doubt God has been merciful to his soul; for his mo- tives were never other than patriotic, if his character was irascible. As to the use of mosquito nets, he consid- ered it effeminate, shameful -- unworthy of a soldier.

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"I noticed at the first glance that his face, already very red, wore an expression of high good-humour. "'Aha! Señor teniente,' he cried, loudly, as I saluted at the door. 'Behold! Your strong man has turned up again.' "He extended to me a folded letter, which I saw was superscribed 'To the Commander-in-Chief of the Re- publican Armies.' "'This,' General Robles went on in his loud voice, 'was thrust by a boy into the hand of a sentry at the Quartel General, while the fellow stood there thinking of his girl, no doubt -- for before he could gather his wits together the boy had disappeared amongst the market people, and he protests he could not recognize him to save his life.' "'My chief told me further that the soldier had given the letter to the sergeant of the guard, and that ulti- mately it had reached the hands of our generalissimo. His Excellency had deigned to take cognizance of it with his own eyes. After that he had referred the matter in confidence to General Robles. "The letter, señores, I cannot now recollect textually. I saw the signature of Gaspar Ruiz. He was an auda- cious fellow. He had snatched a soul for himself out of a cataclysm, remember. And now it was that soul which had dictated the terms of his letter. Its tone was very independent. I remember it struck me at the time as noble -- dignified. It was, no doubt, her letter. Now I shudder at the depth of its duplicity. Gaspar Ruiz was made to complain of the injustice of which he had been a victim. He invoked his previ- ous record of fidelity and courage. Having been saved from death by the miraculous interposition of Provi- dence, he could think of nothing but of retrieving his character. This, he wrote, he could not hope to do

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in the ranks as a discredited soldier still under suspicion. He had the means to give a striking proof of his fidelity. He had ended by proposing to the General-in-Chief a meeting at midnight in the middle of the Plaza be- fore the Moneta. The signal would be to strike fire