Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 3).djvu/21

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
20
The Strand Magazine.

I thought, "when he finds that I do not arrive; he will think I am dead. And is my last hour really far off? The insurgents always shoot their prisoners! To-morrow I must die; but Ramon will return before then. But suppose he has fallen? Good Heaven! relieve me from this uncertainty! And thus I waited for the morrow.

"An army chaplain entered the cell in the morning; my companions in misfortune were still sleeping


"Death?"

"'Death?' I exclaimed when I saw the chaplain.

"'Yes,' he answered, in a gentle voice.

"'Are we to die at once?'

"'No; in three hours' time.'

"A minute later my companions were all awake, and the prison resounded with cries, sobs, and curses.

"They allowed me to wear my officer's uniform; a Carlist cap was placed on my head, and a soldier's cloak thrown round me. In this way I walked to the place of execution with my twenty companions. One prisoner—and only one—escaped death; he was a musician, and they spared the lives of musicians because they did not fight, and because they, the Carlists, were in need of bands for their battalions."

"And were you a musician, Don Basilio? Were you saved by being a musician?" interrupted all the young people at the same time.

"No, my children," answered the veteran; "I was not a musician, I scarcely understood a note of music."

"The square was formed" (continued Don Basilio), "and we were placed in the middle. My number was ten: that is, I was to be the tenth to die. Then I thought of my wife and my daughter—your mother, child.

"The firing began; I was blindfolded, so could not see my companions. I tried to count the volleys, so that I might know when my turn came; but I lost count at about the third volley. Oh! those volleys! At one time they seemed a thousand miles off, the next time so close that they seemed to be fired at me.

"'This time!' I thought. The reports rang out and still I was untouched.

"'Now it is my turn,' I said to myself for the last time. I felt something clutch me by the shoulders and shake me, and there was a roar in my ears. I fell unconscious; I imagined that I was shot dead.

"The next thing I remembered was that