the plain had done, down beneath the hill of Santa Barbara.
"Juan arose, took from the pocket of his jacket a cigarette, the cigarette that Zucarraga had given him, and asked the sergeant for a light. When the papelito was alight he placed it between his lips, turned and gave a last look at Pepa, who made a movement as if she would have gone to him, but nerved herself and remained where she was, and the tall, handsome lad, with a melancholy smile upon his face, lifted his head proudly and was lost to sight among the soldiers, who moved off in obedience to a sign from Garrido.
"Pepa turned, endeavoring to see him, to catch one last glimpse of him; she could not distinguish him in the circle of muskets that was receding along the church wall; all that she could make out was a little cloud of smoke, a thin blue smoke that rose above the heads of the men, among the flashing bayonets, and floated away in the clear sky.
"And chants were begun, and prayers were put up, there in the church, while Juan Araquil, passing along that red wall, in the bright sunlight, was taking the last pull at his cigarette.
"Then, amid the silence as of death that reigned over the place, Pepa heard a command given in the distance and a rattling as of arms shifted, and then there came to her ears, distinctly audible, this word: 'Fire!'
"She fell upon her knees, heartbroken, and was beginning to recite aloud: 'Our Father, which art in heaven,—' but the crash of the discharge that ensued immediately brought her prayer to an abrupt end.
"At the same instant Juan Araquil, who until then had remained erect against the wall of the parsonage,
