"I could resign my life for you, my dear brother," added she, "but for nothing this world can produce, dare I sacrifice my conscience."
To providence, then, Ferdinand left his future destiny; and now only striving to deserve its bounty, he resolved to make Louis de Montemar the confidant and counsellor of his thoughts. He embraced him on the African shore, with a grateful acknowledgement of his former generous interference; and soon convinced Louis, that he held to his heart, the still faithful lover of his dear Alice.
Before Santa Cruz quitted Ceuta, he held a council, in which he left positive orders with the Count de Blas, that no sally should be attempted, until he came back with the men and ammunition which were necessary to make the first attack the decisive one. An hour passed in private conference between him and the anxious son of Ripperda. The Marquis alone, knew that Aben Humeya was other than a Moor; and, therefore, the Marquis alone knew why the once gay De Montemar was seldom seen to smile; and why, while he did his military duty with a precision that neither admitted error, nor relaxation, the glow of martial enthusiasm was extinguished in his countenance. But the hectic of fevered diligence still kept its crimson on his cheekand at times gave a lustre to his eyes of intolerable brightness.
Santa Cruz had hardly set sail, when a spirit, very different from that of obedience to his commands, manifested itself amongst the heads of the garrison. The Moors seemed more carelessly disposed in their camp, revelling and exulting in the easy fall of Larach; and in consequence of some observations on the unguarded state of their lines, Don Joseph de Penil proposed attacking the Basha by surprise. The Counts de Blas and de Patinos warmly assented to the enterprize; and the former turned to Louis, saying he should lead the volunteers in the sortie. He thanked the governor for the proposed distinction, but respectfully reminded him of the Marquis's parting commands. Every lip was now opened upon the absurdity of Santa Cruz attempting to curb events by such ill-judged caution; and as de Penil persisted in pressing the advantage of the presentmoment, he triumphantly called on Louis to give the Marquis's reasons for such jealous prevention.
Louis calmly explained the incapability of Ceuta to defend itself, should the sally be repulsed by the enemy. He gave his reasons for this opinion, by enumerating all the wants and defects of the garrison; and ended by repeating the positive charge of the Marquis Santa Cruz, that no egress should be made from the Spanish lines, until his return with sufficient means to render defeat almost impossible.
"De Montemar!" exclaimed de Blas, "these considerations are for grey hairs. If you are ambitious to be a soldier, begin at the right end; act before you think: and where can an enterprizing spirit have so fair a field as against these insolent barbarians?"
"Courage," rejoined de Penil, glancing superciliously on Louis, "is an essential quality in a soldier!"
"So essential," replied Louis, "thathe cannot maintain obedience to his commander without it."
"Some orders are safely obeyed!" said de Patinos with affected carelessness. "A parade at Vienna, and a sortie from Ceuta are different things!"
"When disobedience is a proof of courage and good discipline," returned Louis, "I may have the honour to meet your approbation, Count de Patinos. Meanwhile, I trust the Count de Blas, who is the governor of this garrison, and on whose responsibility hangs its fate; I trust, wherever he may chuse to place me, he will not doubt finding me at my post."
De Patinos started angrily from his seat.—Louis rose also.
"Gentlemen," cried de Blas, "what is it you mean?"
"To shew I can revenge insult!" cried the haughty Count, touching his sword, "if it be within the calculation of that philosopher to bid me draw it."Louis boiled with rising passion; and with a countenance whose lightning glances could hardly be restrained from giving the defiance his better principles refused, he sternly answered:—
"Count de Patinos, I do not wear the King's sword, to draw it at the prompting of every wordy spirit. If I have insulted you unprovoked, I submit myself to the judgement of all present, and am ready to stand your fire. But on the reverse, I mean not to assert that courage by a private duel, which the public service will so soon put to the proof."
De Penil prevented an insolent retort from de Patinos; and de Blas interfering with a real interest in the reconciliation of the two young men, the haughty Spaniard grumbled out an enforced apology, and left the room.
Don Joseph was conscious that he, too, had been guilty of impropriety towards the Marquis de Montemar; but he was too proud to acknowledge error to oneso much his junior; and saw him retire to his quarters with an admiration of his superior self command, which he would have been glad to emulate, but had not generosity enough to praise.
Piqued into obstinacy, he urged de Blas to put the garrison into immediate preparation for an attack upon the enemy's trenches; and with the rising sun, the ground before the fortress was filled with Spanish troops.
Nothing could have been more grateful to the views of Ripperda. He knew the weakness of his opponent in numbers and artillery; and from a forward eminence in his lines, with the aid of his glass, he counted the Spanish columns as they defiled through their gates; and believing them devoted to his sword, he turned to the Moors, whose thickening ranks blackened the ground around them; and addressed them in a style to arouse their fiercest passions. He described their former empire in Spain; he recapitulatedthe various acts of injustice which banished them that kingdom; he exposed the tyrannous animosity of the Spaniards to the past and present generations of the Moors; and set forth the shame of permitting so oppressive a race to maintain a foot of land in Barbary.
The Moors answered his inflaming eloquence as he expected; and with furious gesticulations and curses which rent the air, they demanded to be led against their hereditary enemies. He mounted his horse; and giving his orders of battle into the hands of his two leading coadjutors, Sidi Ali, and the Hadge Adelmelek, marched out at the head of his troops into the open field.
The Spaniards were led on, in two wretchedly appointed battalions, by de Blas, and Don Joseph de Penil. Count de Patinos, in the arrogance of his assumed contempt of Louis, volunteered his services at the head of a small detachment of troops, which the governor consideredtheeliteof his cavalry. De Montemar, and Don Ferdinand commanded the men who were to carry the trenches.
This first atchievement was speedily done. The workmen fled without resistance; and even the soldiers in the parallels, when they had discharged their fire, threw down their arms before the overwhelming enemy, and begged quarter. But no time was granted to yield, or to receive mercy. Every avenue from the Moorish camp poured forth its troops; and at this moment they came rushing on like a storm. They charged over their vanquished comrades; and over-leaping every obstacle, fell upon the Spanish advance with a shock that broke its line. The havock was as great as the surprise; and the way was soon open to the attack of the second division. It made a halt, and stood firm. Louis collected the fugitives from the first line, and formed them behind their comrades, while the battle in front became close and complex. TheInfidels, contrary to their wonted custom, fought hand to hand; and rallied two or three times, when any extraordinary press of Spanish force compelled them to recede.
Aben Humeya shewed an eminent example of faith in his new creed. He appeared to take no care of his person, but rode about under the heaviest vollies, exhorting, and charging with his men; till at length, after prodigious efforts, the Spaniards were obliged to give ground. They retreated; but it was with a backward step; while the Moors, crowding on them, horse and foot, broke the line in every direction. In some places, the victors so mingled with the vanquished, that it rather resembled an affray of single combatants, than a contest of regular troops. The depth of de Montemar's little phalanx, was insufficient to sustain the weight of the Basha's charge; it was penetrated and turned; and in the moment of its defeat, the horseof Don Ferdinand was shot and fell. A Moor raised his lance to dispatch its rider, when Louis dashed between his friend and the infidel, and received the weapon on his face. A random shot killed the lancer, while another gave the just rescued Ferdinand a less mortal wound.
The Basha, after being twice unhorsed himself, cut off the squadron under De Patinos; and the confusion among the Spaniards being redoubled by Count de Blas falling at the same time, the panic-struck infantry retreated pell mell into their outworks, hardly closing the gates on the triumphant infidels at their heels. As Don Joseph de Penil galloped towards the principal entrance, he passed Louis de Montemar, who, black as a Moor with smoke and toil, stood by a held piece, which he had brought to that spot, to cover the flight of the Spaniards; and was firing it on the pursuers, with aquickness and effect, that cleared the way to a considerable distance.
The enemy halted before this formidable barrier; for Louis's commands and example soon made it a battery; and as the grape showered from it on all sides, the fugitive Spaniards entered the fortress in safety.
Aben Humeya drew off his victorious troops; but it was only the recoil of the tiger, to make his second spring decisive.
All was dismay within the Spanish lines. The Count de Blas died in the arms of the men who were bearing him into the castle; and Don Joseph de Penil was so severely wounded, that he dropped off his horse as soon as it had cleared the draw-bridge into the fortress. Half the garrison was slain or missing; and no officers of rank returned alive from the field, but what were borne in on their cloaks,—sad, mangled victims of the preceding rashness.
When De Penil's wounds were dressed, and he heard the state of his men, he was driven to despair. He called for the Marquis de Montemar, as the only person in whose steadiness to the last, he felt he could place any confidence. Allwho approached him came trembling; and, from confusion of mind, contradicted each other in every account of the garrison, excepting the one, that its destruction was now inevitable!
When Louis obeyed the General's summons, he corroborated the observations of De Penil's own senses; and told him that a contagious fear unmanned every heart; and that the eyes of the soldiers continually turned towards the sea, with a more evident wish for escape than resistance. While Don Joseph listened to the consequences of his own headstrong folly, and saw the bloody evidence of the courage he had pretended to doubt, on the cheek of the brave narrator, he obeyed the noble shame which coloured his own; and, having uttered a frank apology for his former conduct, as frankly asked for his opinion on the present crisis.
Louis did not hesitate to say, that he believed the Moors could not see theiradvantage without attempting to storm the place.
"And they will take it to a certainty," replied De Penil. "In the present disposition of the men there can be no resistance."
"Without resistance they are lost!" returned Louis. "There are no ships for flight, and the Moors grant no terms in a surrender."
"Then every man must fight for his life!" cried De Penil. "I will yet do my duty from this bed; and you, De Montemar, must act from my authority."
Louis did not now demur. He was ready to do all in his power to stop the torrent, whose sluice he would have prevented being broken down. Without losing time in sending for those paralized officers, who wandered from place to place at their wit's end, De Penil consulted his young co-adjutor on every resource; and while he marvelled at so comprehensive a judgment in so inexperienced a soldier,he adopted so many of his suggestions, that dispositions were soon made for the defence of Ceuta, of better promise than those which had placed it in such extremity.
Louis wrote down the necessary arrangement; and when it was finished, the wounded General was laid on a litter, and carried out along the ramparts; where, after he had said a few words of encouragement to the soldiers, Louis read aloud the different orders for the defence of the garrison.
De Penil was too conscious of the evil his impatience had wrought, not to do his utmost to prevent yet more disastrous consequences; and, while he exhorted the men to stand to their guns, and never to leave their ground but with their lives, he himself took an oath before them never to surrender. He told them to obey the Marquis de Montemar as his representative.
"But for his promptitude in mountingthe battery which covered our retreat, and his steadiness in maintaining it," added the General, "we should not now have Ceuta to defend."
The soldiers knew this as well as their commander, and with a sincere hurrah of obedience, followed their officers to their respective duties.
Exhausted, and almost fainting, De Penil ordered the litter to his quarters; but he held himself up with assumed strength, till the walls of his apartment permitted over-tasked nature to sink under the pain of his wounds.
Louis's spirit rose with the summons for exertion. His calm collectiveness in dispensing his commands, and instant apprehension of what was most proper to be done, from objects of the greatest importance to the minutest inquiry from the meanest workmen in the lines, revived courage in the faintest heart, and inspired the brave with an animation equal to his own.After he had seen every thing prepared for the anticipated assault, he returned to De Penil, to inform him of the favourable aspect his commands had produced. Having found the General in a state of anxiety that looked for such intelligence to enable him to seek the repose his condition needed, he closed his communications with assurances of hope; and, leaving him to rest, proceeded to the quarters of Don Ferdinand.
His wound was deep, but not dangerous; yet the alarm for his life had been so great, before the extraction of the ball, that one of the surgeons dispatched a messenger immediately across the strait, with intelligence to Santa Cruz of the perilous state of his son, and the jeopardy of the garrison.
When Louis found what had been done, he reprimanded the man for presuming to send off any account, before the official reports of the affair could be duly ascertained. The other surgeonsassured the young commander that his friend was not to be despaired of; and, with the feelings of a brother for the son of the revered Santa Cruz, he entered his apartment.
"De Montemar," cried Ferdinand, stretching out his hand to him, "dearer lips than mine must thank you that I live."
Louis smiled as he used to do in his unclouded days of happiness:—"God is good in yet giving life a value to me, by making me his instrument to preserve my friend. While I may be such," added he, with a deeper expression, and pressing Ferdinand's hand between his, "I feel the son of Ripperda is not completely lost!"
Ferdinand did not understand all the reference of this almost unconscious apostrophe; but supposing it arose from some free remarks of the Count de Patinos which might have reached his ear, he replied with earnestness:—"Il rit bien, qui rit le dernier!The sneers which De Patinos dared venture against the Duke de Ripperda's escape from his enemies, and the unsullied honour of De Montemar, were visited on his head this day. I saw him fly before the negro guards of Aben Humeya; and I have since been told, that he and his whole squadron threw down their arms before the barbarian."
"That they may be his prisoners," replied Louis, "is too likely; but whatever may be the Count de Patinos' ungenerous enmity against men who never voluntarily gave him offence, I must exonerate him of the charge of cowardice. I believe him brave; and all I have now to wish is, that he may be treated according to his merits as a soldier, by the hands into which he has fallen."
At nine o'clock, Louis went the round of his posts, and found all in good order. The men were in spirits, though it was easy to discern, even by the naked eye,that a threatening commotion continued along the enemy's lines.
By his glass, earlier in the evening, he had observed the approach of artillery, and some other signs which convinced him of the necessity of Don Joseph's precaution. For his own part, he never retired under cover the whole night, but kept his station on the best point of observation,—a tower at the extremity of the outworks.
About the watch of the night, which is called by the Moors,Latumar, being their fifth hour of prayer, the sky was involved in total darkness; but the attentive ear of Louis heard a distant murmuring. It was demonstrative of the approach he expected; and having persons near him for the purpose, he dispatched them to the lines to order every one to be prepared.
In less than a quarter of an hour after he had taken his own most efficient station, the flash of cannon and ofmusquetry lit the plain for a moment, like the splendour of day; and, in the next, the roaring of the guns, and the smoke of the explosion, rocked the fortress to its foundation, and involved the whole atmosphere in sulphureous clouds. The ordnance on the walls of Ceuta were not silent; and the mutual bombardment in the intermitting darkness, was rendered more terrific by the savage cries of the besiegers mingling their horrid war-whoop with the hissing of the musquetry, and the tremendous thunders of the cannonade.
Where his father was in the midst of this dreadful contest, more than once shot in direful question across the mind of Louis; but he dismissed the paralyzing thought. He was there to defend the cause of his country and the faith of his fathers; and he must not allow the yearnings of his heart to unman his fidelity.
He flew from the bastion on which hestood, at the moment he heard a cry of triumph from the scene below. In defiance of shells and raking fires, these desperate barbarians had rushed on, and pointed their guns till a breach was made. Louis ordered a rampart to be immediately raised on the ruins, but the gabions were hardly rolled forward, and the cannon planted, when a tumbrel blew up, and rendered the egress wider and more accessible than before. The stone battlements shook under his feet like an earthquake, while the fragments from the torn rampart, the smoke, and the scorching powder, covered him with viewless horror. There was not the pause of a moment between the explosion, the dispersion of the smoke, and the most dreadful conflict of the day.
Aben Humeya had prepared for an escalade; and the very band which planted the crescent on the towers of Larach, was the first who scaled the walls of Ceuta.The contest at the breach was as sanguinary as it was decisive. The Moors were twice repulsed with terrible slaughter; and the more terrible the second time, as it was quickly known, by the intrepid desperation of the assailants, that they were led on by the Basha himself. Louis's unreceding arm had tumbled the leader of the first division from his footing on the wall; and at his fall his followers had given ground. On the second assault, he was contending with the invincible devotedness of a man who knew that spot was the key of the fortress, when his father's voice assailed his ear. A flash of musketry shewed the jewelled chelengk in his turban, as he mounted the farther ridge of the platform, slippery with blood, and called on his men to support him. In another moment, two Biscayan grenadiers held the Basha between their weapons and the pinnacle of the battlement. A choice of death seemed the only alternative,—theirswords, or precipitation over the precipice. The Moors who pressed forward, were cut to pieces by the Spaniards on the breach; and Louis saw nothing but destruction to his father, when rushing towards the spot, in the moment Ripperda's weapon shivered against those of his enemies, he threw himself, sword in hand, between the Biscayans and their prey, franticly exclaiming:
"The Basha is the governor's prisoner." But the strokes which were levelled at Ripperda's breast were sheathed in his son's. Before the Spaniards could check their arms, he was cut through the shoulder and stabbed in his side; but the men recoiled on finding they had wounded their leader; and in the instant, Sidi Ali mounting the height with a fresh horde of triumphant Moors, they surrounded Aben Humeya, believing the day won. But as Ali's hand planted the Ottoman standard amidst the still grappling of foe to foe, and the anathemas ofthe Christian against the ferocious curses of the Moor, the clouds of smoke rolled away from the eastern point of the rampart, and the golden head of the sun peered from the horizon. Its first ray shot direct upon the radiant crest of Aben Humeya, and a rifle took aim. The ball struck; and, in spite of a momentary exertion in its victim to spring forward, he staggered and fell into the arms of his followers.
A woeful yell announced to the legions below, that some direful disaster had happened. The cry was echoed from rank to rank with shrieks and howlings; and a single blast of a trumpet immediately succeeded. The breach was abandoned, as if by enchantment. The firing sunk at once into a dead calm; and the flight of the Moors through the yet hovering smoke, sounded in the darkness like the wings of many birds brushing the sands before the sweep of some coming storm.
The Queen's cabinet at Seville was employed on many projects besides that of sealing the union between Portugal and Spain. The venerable Grimaldo was just dead; and the affairs of state falling entirely into the management of the Marquis de Castellor and the Count de Paz, she affected a warm interest in the former, though she detested him in her heart, not only as the most successful rival of her regretted Ripperda, but because his talents were equal to his ambition. And what was more provoking to a despotic woman, he made her feel that he could maintain his ground by the same surreptitious art he had obtained it.
The Count de Paz was a man of a different complexion. Covetousness, and an abject dependent on individual favour, tethered his vain-glorious spirit to a boundary he panted to overleap, but everlastingly found it a limit he could not pass. This man, Isabella used as her instrument, and by his connivance, admitted a third person to their private councils, who commanded him with the invincible power of a superior demon.
In obedience to the Queen, and this her secret counsellor, he was to influence the Marquis de Castellor to extort an act of aggression from the French arms against the German Emperor.
Since the public betrothment of Maria Theresa to the Prince of Lorraine, Isabella had become reconciled to Louis the Fifteenth; and she now wanted to attack the grasping power of the rival Empire, by a concerted act of open hostility. France was to invade Austria on the side of Germany; while Spain, in consequence of the death of the Duke of Parma, should resist the pretensions of the Emperor to that duchy; and, in supportof the rights of Prince Carlos, (the late Duke's kinsman, and Isabella's son,) overrun that part of Italy with Spanish troops.
Her secret counsellor had already moved the cardinal minister of the French King to thwart the establishment of the pragmatic sanction; and through the Queen of Spain and De Paz, he had drawn from the treasury of Philip a large subsidy to support the pretensions of Bavaria.
On the open rupture between Isabella and the Empress, the former was not long at a loss how to revenge herself on the wide ambition of her rival. Her midnight familiar whispered the means. He told her that Gibraltar was not more the fortress of England than of Austria. Whoever possessed that rock, commanded the Mediterranean, and bound all on its banks to his feet. The interest of Austria and the House of Brunswick were now the same. He therefore exhorted her to categorically demand Gibraltar ofthe King of England; and to make her husband and his council, see the wisdom of considering him the King of England who would restore that gem to the Spanish crown.
One of the last acts of George the First was to reject this demand with a positive refusal; and the following evening saw a tall, dark man, of a noble mien, pass into the private cabinet of the King of Spain. They were alone together for some time; and then the Queen and the two ministers of state being introduced, a paper was signed in their presence by Philip and the stranger, and the royal seals of Spain and of Great Britain solemnly affixed to the deed.
Santa Cruz met this personage as he withdrew through the vestibule of the King's apartment. He knew him, and stood with his hat in his hand till he passed.
"Do not repeat what you have seen," whispered Isabella, who found the Marquis gazing after him; "but now you read my riddle. A few months may see you governor of Gibraltar!"
"The trenches of San Roque must first be opened in England!" replied he, answering her gay smile with unusual gravity.
"No," was her reply; "there we spring a mine; and the best engineer in Christendom has his hand on the match."
Santa Cruz understood enough of her meaning, not to make a second observation in so public a passage; and bowing to her beckoning finger, he followed her into her apartment.
He held in his hand the first official dispatches from Ceuta. The last had not arrived. But the fugitive merchants from Larach were then in the palace, with their calamitous account of the fall of that fortress.
The Queen was enraged at these determined acts of hostility in the man to whom she had condescended to humbleherself as a suppliant; and vehemently arraigning the insolence that durst disdain her returning favour, she preceded Santa Cruz to the chamber of her royal husband.
On the King's being told the fate of Larach; and learning, by the discomfiture of Don Joseph de Penil, how nearly Ceuta had shared the same disaster, he issued his orders that the troops just called off from the lines of San Roque, should be employed without delay in a final vindication of the Christian name in the plains of Barbary.
These forces had been intended by Isabella and her secret counsellor, to make a descent on the British shore; and there, as Santa Cruz had guessed, assert the rights of him who had purchased the support of Philip by a written pledge for the restitution of Gibraltar. But at this moment resentment obliterated every promise; and, in the rage of revenge against the man who had disdained her, more asa woman than a queen, she at once announced to her husband, that it was his own rebellious subject, the Duke de Ripperda, who, under the assumed name of Aben Humeya, but as a real apostate and a traitor, waged war in Africa against his King and his God.
Philip's amazement was creditable to his heart; and, when unquestionably convinced, his indignation against the Duke's irreligion superseded the expected resentment for his rebellion. He summoned his council; and in full assembly of the ministers and grandees, degraded the Duke de Ripperda from all his honours, hereditary and by creation; confiscated his estates; and ordered the arms of his family to be obliterated from the Spanish college of arms.
With the feelings of an ancient Spanish nobleman, Santa Cruz saw the rapidity of this act of disgrace. Not in consideration of the degraded Duke; for in becoming an infidel, he had sunk himself below thepower of man to cast him lower; but compassion for his blameless and exemplary son, filled the heart of Santa Cruz with honourable sympathy.
The Queen turned on him at the moment, and observing the expression of his countenance, said with a taunting surprise;—
"Marquis, you pity this renegade!"
"Madam," replied he, "I respect the Marquis de Montemar."
Isabella drew towards the King.
"Your Majesty will grant an exception in behalf of that young man? He covered the retreat of de Penil into Ceuta, and merits some exemption from the universal stigma on his father."
"We may consider that hereafter," replied the King, "meanwhile let the edict be published."
The messenger from the surgeon at Ceuta, who dispatched him during the panic immediately succeeding the return of the unfortunate sortie, went direct tothe Marquis Santa Cruz's house in Seville. The Marquis was from home, but the man delivered his credentials to the servants; and with the eagerness of a first bringer of news, gave an exaggerated account of the defeat of Don Joseph, the death of de Blas, and the wounded state of Don Ferdinand d'Osorio. He closed his report of the latter, by saying, he was rescued by the intrepid interference of the Marquis de Montemar, from sharing the fate of the governor; but as the Moorish sabres were generally venomed, little hope could be cherished of his ultimate recovery.
On Santa Cruz's return from the palace, he found his wife and daughter in speechless agony, listening to this narrative of despair. He sent the man from the room; and by reading the dispatch which the official messenger had brought, he succeeded in convincing them that the Moors did not poison their weapons, andthat the life of his son was in no present danger. The Marchioness however, insisted on accompanying her husband to Ceuta; and Marcella, in a passion of tears, implored her father to permit her to be her mother's attendant.
Dreading that despairing love had precipitated the vehement nature of her brother, upon the swords of his enemies, Marcella now reproached herself for having so decisively, and therefore she thought cruelly, rejected his suit. In the paroxysm of her grief and her remorse, she threw herself at her father's feet; and to his astonishment, informed him of Ferdinand's love for the cousin of the Marquis de Montemar; declaring at the same time, her own resolution no longer to oppose his wishes of her passing her life a professed nun; provided her vows might be simply confined to celibacy, and a secluded state; and Ferdinand be allowed to marry the English lady.The Marquis was confounded, and looked at his wife.
"It is too true;" was her reply to his enquiring eyes; "Ferdinand loves Alice Coningsby; and my invaluable child would make herself the price of her brothers happiness."
"Marcella," replied Santa Cruz, turning with solemnity to his daughter; "this is not what I expected from you. You dishonour your father and your brother, by your petition. You may accompany your mother to his sick couch; and for the rest, should he recover, I hope he will find a fitter oblation to his blind passions, than a sister's and a parent's conscience."
Marcella rose humbled from her knees; and in speechless sorrow left the apartment. The Marquis looked after her and sighed; and the Marchioness taking his hand, pressed it to her lips, wet with her drowning tears, and exclaimed;—"Better that we had never met, than that the purest offspring of our heaven-sanctified union, should be consigned to a living tomb! Oh, Santa Cruz, why is she to be our victim!"
Santa Cruz did not wait for the tedious embarkation of the troops, now under orders for Africa; but set forward immediately, accompanied by his wife and daughter; who both assumed the privileged habits ofSisters of Mercy, in this their pilgrimage to a land of war and suffering.
When he arrived at Ceuta, he was ignorant of the attempt at storming the place. The courier with that intelligence, had been taken by an Algerine row-boat, and carried into Oran.
By this capture, Ripperda became acquainted with all that had passed in the rescued fortress; for the messenger was sent in irons to him: and the dastardlycommunicativeness of the man was too clear an interpreter of the brief account in the dispatches.
The Basha's wounds being aslant, and in the muscles of his breast, were slight and easy of cure; but that on his mind was not to be healed, when on awaking from his swoon, he found himself thrown across a camel, and in full retreat from the fortress he believed in his hands. He was no sooner within his own entrenchments, than both officers and men felt the weight of his disappointment. He summoned their several commanders into his pavilion, and accused them of cowardice, for having made so unnecessary, and therefore shameful a flight.
Adelmelek pleaded two reasons for this conduct. Their Basha's supposed mortal wound; and its befalling him in the moment of sun-rise, seemed so signal a judgement on the Moors for their breach of the prophet's ordinance, in pursuing the warfare into the sabbath morn,that with one consent they made the only expiation in their power, by abandoning the scene of their impiety.
Enraged at the subtlety of this apology, in which Ripperda saw that the jealousy of the Hadge was at the bottom of this retreat, he turned on him with derision, and bade him take that excuse to the Emperor, and see whether he most respected the enlargement of his empire, or the superstition of a coward.
"Aben Humeya," replied the Hadge, regarding him with equal scorn; "If I am to be your messenger, one truth at least you shall learn of me before I set out on my journey! It is impossible for a bad Christian to become a good Mussulman. Devout men are no changelings. He has little of the spirit of religion, who finds an insurmountable stumbling-block in any dispute about the letter; and in my opinion, the man who more than once alters his faith, may shew himself a consummate hypocrite, but he persuades no one to doubt the nothingness of his religion."
"Your head, proud bigot, shall answer for this insult!" exclaimed Ripperda, starting from the cushion on which he lay.
"The event of this siege," replied the Hadge, "will determine the fate of yours!" and with a threatening countenance, he left the apartment.
Nothing awed, by what he called this insolence in a man whose talents he despised, Ripperda was the more incited to shew his contempt of superstition; and the moment he withdrew, his reproaches to the officers were augmented in severity and reproof. He punished the soldiers in a more exemplary way; and published a proclamation, declaring that he would put to death any officer, let his rank be what it would, who should henceforth presume at any time to disobey his orders, or to desert his post on anypretence whatever. He finished by pronouncing himself, as the leader of the Mohammedan armies in Barbary, the best interpreter of the prophet's laws; and that while he bore the standard of Mecca, the sabbaths of Jews, Mussulmen, or Christians, should be alike free to the progress of his arms.
The rigor of these threats, and this last assertion, so contrary to the customs of their faith, filled the Moors with terror and amazement: but the full effects of the manifesto were to be seen hereafter.
While these punishments and intimidations were going on, the courier taken at Oran, was brought to the camp before Ceuta. The Basha was now convalescent; and while the reading of the dispatches inspired his coadjutor Sidi Ali, with renewed confidence in the reduction of the fortress, it doubly exasperated the passions of Ripperda, when he gathered from the report the dangerous state of his son.
The courier was commanded into hispresence; and on examining him it was found that three parts of the garrison had fallen in the sortie and the defence of the town; that the Count de Blas was dead of his wounds; the commander, de Penil, incapable of service; and that the young Marquis de Montemar, whose gallant exertions filled so great a part in the dispatches, was in such extremity when the messenger came off, that it was impossible he could now be alive.
Ripperda was no stranger to the voice that rushed between him and his assailants in the breach; but it passed by him as the wind. Vengeance was then all that possessed his soul! But now that voice was hushed for ever. In his first field his son had perished,—and perished against whom?
He sprang on his feet as the horrible images pressed upon his brain. Regardless of who were present, he snatched up his sword:—
"I am alone!" cried he, "the last!the last! But I will yet uproot thee, murderous Spain, that dost thus riot in my vitals!"
The prisoner and the attendants all fled from before the terrible enunciation of his eyes. Sidi Ali alone had courage to remain and seize the aimless weapon.
"Aben Humeya!" said he, "what unmans you thus, before the eyes of slaves?"
"Were I less a man," cried Ripperda, turning his burning eye-balls upon him; "I could bear it. But now the curse has found me!"
When Santa Cruz landed at Ceuta, he proceeded direct to the quarters of Don Joseph de Penil, and was told there of the attempt to storm the fortress, and its miraculous defence by the inexperienced but intrepid son of Ripperda. Don Joseph's wounds were in a mending state; and from him he learnt, that his son was also on the recovery; but less hopes durst be encouraged for the Marquis de Montemar.
"The worst wound is in his heart!" remarked Santa Cruz. For it could no longer be disguised from de Penil and the whole garrison, that Aben Humeya, the direful cause of all this bloodshed, was, though now an apostate and a rebel, once the great Duke de Ripperda, theuniversally honoured father of this noble young man!
His public attainder, and disgraced name at Seville, had made the circumstance known to all there; and the new army spread it at once through the lines of Ceuta.
But there was a kind hand which warded off a blow which might have been fatal to his blameless son. Don Ferdinand and Louis de Montemar lay in their wounds under the same roof; and by the same gentle ministry they were attended.
The Marchioness and her daughter found no difference in their hearts between the sufferers; for if the one had the claims of a brother and a son upon their tenderness, the other had purchased the life of that dear relative by the exposure of his own; and the bonds of gratitude were not less sacred than those of kindred.
Marcella sought to cheer her brother, by assuring him that her prejudicesagainst a monastic life should no longer stand between him and his happiness, if that compliance with her father's wishes could obtain his consent to Ferdinand's union with the cousin of his friend. But she did not withhold from her brother, the Marquis's remark on the sacrifice she offered to make in his behalf.
"However," continued she, "our aunt, the abbess of the Ursalines, is too charitable to force my conscience to more than the vow and the seclusion; and I trust that Heaven will not see any crime in a Protestant nun, worshipping in spirit and in truth, by the side of sisters from whom the cloud of error has not yet been raised!"
Ferdinand gazed upon his sister while she spoke. Was the fabled Iphigenia of Tauris half so fair, or the virgin daughter of Jephthah so full of youthful loveliness, as she who now talked, with such sweet smiles, of immolating herself for him? She was indeed the victim, clad in thelilly and the rose; and the fragrance of the flowers, and the morning dew of their leaves, breathed and sparkled from her lips, as she pursued her disinterested theme. Bodily suffering, and hours of solitary reflection, had opened to Ferdinand a clear view of his former injustice in seeking happiness at the expence of his sister's liberty; and, abhorring such utter selfishness, he was ashamed to acknowledge its late power over him, even by disavowing its continuance; and with a deep blush, and deeper sigh, he pressed her hand without a word.
But in Marcella's separated heart, the vow of abjuration from the world was already registered. She had now but one duty;—to wait with her lamp trimmed, while she ministered to all who needed her deeds of charity; and, as aSister of Mercy, whose garb she wore, she daily attended her mother to the couch of the preserver of her brother.
The Marchioness's eager dispositionwas always too hasty in imparting the evil as well as the good; and, therefore, her more considerate daughter implored her, and every body who entered the room of the Marquis de Montemar, not to breathe a word of the sentence which Philip had passed upon the name of his father. From an instinct in her own bosom, she knew that injuries are easier to be borne than disgrace; and she guarded every approach to his ear with the watchfulness of an attendant spirit.
As her own hand frequently administered the cordials to the silently-suffering patient, his eyes thanked her, though his lips seldom moved. His wounds were numerous and excruciating; and, from the opium his surgeons mixed with every potion, he was almost always in a seeming stupor. But neither his mental perceptions, nor the annotations of his heart shared the lulling faculty. His shrouded vision discerned the solicitude that hovered over him. He heard the tender voicethat gave directions for his comfort; he felt the soft touch of the hand that smoothed his pillow; and his own spirit mingled in the prayer which the holy accents of Marcella murmured over his apparently unobserving form, when she gave place to the persons whose medical balsams were less healing than the balm of her presence alone.
"It is the presence of virtue!" said he to himself, "and that is the ministering angel of heaven."
Lorenzo had shared his master's dangers and his wounds, as he had shared his sorrows and his prison. He had followed him from rampart to rampart, stood by him on the breach; and sunk under the same sweep of balls which had levelled both to the earth. As soon as he was able to leave his chamber, he prevailed on his attendants to take him to that of his master; for he had been told of the news which had astonished the garrison;—that the exiled Ripperda wasthe man, who, under a Moorish name, now made Spain tremble; and that the impotent revenge of the Spanish court was to deprive him of a title he had already abandoned.
It was during the absence of the Marchioness and Marcella at matin prayers, that Lorenzo was borne to Louis's apartment. Ignorant that any thing which the whole garrison knew, could have been withheld from him who had most concern in it, Lorenzo, after his first felicitations on finding his master declared out of danger, began to accuse the Spanish government for not sparing the honours of Ripperda to the meritorious son, though it had found it necessary to withdraw them from the rebellion of the father. Louis started.—
"Explain yourself, Lorenzo."
Lorenzo was seized with a trembling that almost amounted to fainting, when he found that he had intimated what his master's friends had deemed it prudentto conceal. Louis regarded him with grateful pity, while he armed himself to hear whatever was then to be told.
"Do not hesitate to speak all you know," continued he; "I have suffered too much to shrink now. My heart has armour, Lorenzo, that the world guesses not."
Lorenzo burst into tears; but he instantly told him all. Louis pressed his hand; and, bidding him return to his room and take care of himself; the faithful creature, with a full heart, permitted the servants to carry him from the apartment; and when the door was closed on every body, Louis laid himself back upon his couch. That was his hour of agony; all that was yet within him of the world, mingled with the pang of filial anguish, and agitated his spirit even unto death.
Ferdinand came into the room, leaning on his sister; and taking his seat by the side of his friend's bed, gently touched him:—"Do you sleep, De Montemar?" said he. "Here is a fresh northern breeze in this sultry climate! Open your eyes and receive the genial visitant!"
Louis did not open his eyes, but he sighed heavily, and half muttered in a smothered voice: "When shall I meet a genial visitant again! Oh, Ferdinand," added he, turning his face upon the hand of his friend, "better had it been for me, had I never been born!"
Marcella was retiring at the first exclamation; but, at the second, she paused and drew near.
"De Montemar," said Ferdinand, "what can prompt you who are so universally honoured, to such a sentiment?"
"My father's universal infamy," replied Louis. "He is now judged before men and angels; and where shall I hide my head!"
"In the bosom of him who pierces the heart to purify it!" replied Marcella, as she sunk on her knees beside him."He only who wilfully offends that gracious Being, may cry:Better for me had I never been born!If God have already judged your erring father before men and angels, and given that once illustrious name to universal infamy, receive that as a mercy; as a punishment here, that it may be remitted hereafter."
Louis looked up from his thorny pillow. He took her hand, and pressed it with grateful fervour to his lips.—
"You, you, holy Marcella!" cried he, "are the genial visitant I saw not,—are the messenger from heaven that speaks peace to my soul! Pray for me I beseech you; but, above all, pray for my misguided father. May he be redeemed; and for disgrace,—trampling, overwhelming disgrace, let it come!"
The speech was begun to her, but ended in an address to heaven, without farther consciousness of who were present.
Ferdinand and his sister comprehended that some person had betrayed to himthe secret they had so carefully concealed; and both apprehended the effects of so sudden a blow upon a mind whose keen sense of honour seemed one with his being.
When the Marquis Santa Cruz learnt what had passed, he went to the couch of his young friend; and dismissing every person, discoursed with him alone, for more than an hour. The Marchioness met him in the room of her son, and with maternal anxiety, enquired the result of his visit.
"I found him," replied Santa Cruz, "in a silence, which he had never broken since my son and daughter left him; but when I spoke to him, he answered me firmly. And then I discovered that it was not so much the publication of his father's dishonour, which had so affected him, as the conviction that such public degradation, by still farther incensing the Duke, was the seal of his estrangement from his religion and his country.""He is now an outcast!" cried he, "and driven to despair, he will believe he is banished from the face of heaven and the Christian world for ever!"
"Oh, my father," cried Marcella, "is there not one who teaches us where all comfortis written? And in those sacred pages we are told, that he who was cast out into the desert for mocking the promise of his God, yet found an angel in the wilderness to save him from perishing."
"Louis de Montemar is no stranger to the volume which is your study, my child;" gently answered her father; "and I soon learnt, that though human nature shrunk under the stroke, there was a spirit within him that sustained and cheered him with a better hope."
"My father," said Marcella, laying her trembling hand on the arm of the Marquis, "can his faith be wrong, who is so supported?"Santa Cruz shook off that appealing touch. A deep thoughtfulness passed over his brow. It was troubled, but it was not severe; and he left the room without answering her.
It was some time after this conference, before the army from the Peninsula were all arrived and disembarked at Ceuta. Santa Cruz had made himself master of every information respecting the condition of the enemy; and found that a large reinforcement of troops was daily expected from the interior provinces. He wished to bring Ripperda to a general battle, before this accession of cavalry should give the Moors so great an advantage; for his own columns were very slenderly supported by horse.
The whole strength of the Ceuta army did not amount to more than twenty-five thousand men; but they were fresh and in spirits; while the forces under the Basha, were not merely reduced to almost asscanty a number, but they were in despair at the contempt their leader shewed to the laws of their prophet. Ten thousand Arabs had lately arrived, to strengthen the division under Sidi Ali; and were disposed on the side of the mountain, to cover the camp. Some other general was to bring up the hordes from the interior; who were coming forward with savage eagerness, to assist their brethren in driving the Spaniards into the sea.
Santa Cruz did not disturb the progress of Louis de Montemar's recovery, with any communication of these designs; but proceeded without any apparent extraordinary motion in the garrison, to draw out his troops and prepare for the general attack. His position was fully taken one morning before it was light; and falling in the darkness upon the advanced posts of the Moors, the infidels in the trenches were cut off to a man before a gun was fired.
Martini was the first who brought hismaster intelligence of this assault; for the Moors had conceived so sullen a horror of their leader, that uncertain what to do, many of them would rather have suffered a total surprise of their camp; than saved themselves by yielding to the impious Aben Humeya an opportunity of establishing his power with the Emperor. But a few minutes shewed the irresistible ascendancy of boldness and decision, over pusillanimity and wavering. When Ripperda knew the peril of his camp; and issued from his tent in full military array, the awfulness of his heroic countenance, and the splendor of his arms, eclipsed all remembrance of his tyranny in some; and others dreading the resentment of so formidable a man, threw themselves forward to receive his commands.
He ordered the gates of the camp to be thrown open before his horse; and he and his battalions, soon occupied the space between the entrenchments, and the rapid advance of the Spaniards; whowere now nearly within the range of his first line of batteries.
The cannon began their summons of death. The rays of the morning, and the flashing of guns traversed each other in the passing shadows and rolling smoke of the contest. During deep night, Santa Cruz had detached a body of infantry with a few field-pieces, to file off to the left; and by forming in a pass at the bottom of the hill, between Ali's camp and the Basha's, cut off the former from coming to the support of his colleague.
Before Aben Humeya marched out into the field, he dispatched two messengers; the one to Sidi Ali with his commands, that he should come forward and attack the Spaniards in flank; and the other to Adelmelek, who was bringing up the columns from the interior, to hasten onward, and confirm the anticipated victory.
His orders being issued, the Basha boredown upon the charging enemy with a shock as terrific as his own; and with so decisive a weight of cavalry, that the Spaniards gave ground. While the Moors pursued this advantage, a report reached their leader that Ali was intercepted in the hills. With the quickness of lightning, he detached a resolute body of troops to cut off, in their turn, the division of Spaniards which had been sent on this dangerous enterprize.
The eyes of Santa Cruz were not less alert in viewing the manœuvres of his enemy; and at the very moment he was looking around to see whom he could entrust with the important commission of opposing this force, to his astonishment he beheld Louis de Montemar at his side. He had heard the roll of cannon, and required no other summons. He was now mounted, and in arms, as if in perfect vigour, from his hardly closed wounds. Without asking a question, the Marquis ordered him to take the command of acertain body of cavalry; and lead them towards the hill, to the attack of the detachment dispatched from the Moorish camp.
Louis obeyed; and performed his commission so completely, that the Moors were obliged to fall back, and shelter their flying squadrons behind the nearest batteries. But part of the troops which had previously been sent to watch the motions of Sidi Ali, seeing the way clear, joined the chase; and so left a passage for the enemy. Profiting by the oversight, Ali rushed from his lines; and taking the pursuing Christians in the rear, the shouts of the Moors, reanimated their fugitive brethren in front, who turned like a host of tigers at bay; and all at once Louis found himself between two fires.
But it was not the object of Sidi Ali to waste his time in the extirpation of a part, when the whole was near, to yield a mightier revenge to the conqueror. Headvanced with rapidity and good order, to the support of the Basha; whose left flank, where he had thrown himself in person, was already turned by the furious onset of the Spaniards. Seeing the approaching squadrons of Ali, Aben Humeya rallied his receding men; and precipitating himself and a chosen cohort upon the most effective engine of the enemy, (which was one of the Moorish batteries turned upon themselves,) he retook it, and discharged it on its late masters. The fresh troops of Ali came on with shouts like thunder; and the Christians, who expected nothing less than this new attack, supported the charge only for a while. Aben Humeya brought up a kind of flying battery of his own construction; and his adversaries being thrown into confusion by its incessant fire, turned to fly. The Basha left the fugitives to Ali, and moved to the centre, which was now hardly pressed by Santa Cruz himself.
Until now, the Spanish leader had notexposed his own person; but when he found that part of his army assuming the same retrograde motion with the left wing, he saw the necessity of shewing his own personal courage, and fighting man to man.
Here was the shock and the tug of the day. Aben Humeya and Santa Cruz, were alike seen in every part of the field, as if their bodies, as well as their minds, had the property of omnipresence. Blood streamed on every side; and the terrific screams of the wounded horses, mingling with the groans of the dying; and the yells or shouts of the victors; the braying of the trumpets, the rolling of the drums; and the roaring of the guns, shook the earth, and seemed to tear the heavens. The echoes were tremendous from the caves and summits of the overhanging mountains; and to the crazed imagination of fear, the Genius of Spain and of Barbary appeared to hang in the clouds ofbattle, and to clash their dreadful arms, in horror of the equal fight.
But in the moment of loudest acclaim in the centre, while the helmeted turban of the Basha shone resplendent in anticipated victory, and his watchmen looked from his towers in the camp, for the approach of Adelmelek, a howl of dismay issued from the left; and the thronging squadrons of half Ali's division spiked themselves upon the points of the Spanish line.
Louis had no sooner seen that the Sidi had passed, and driven this wing of the Spaniards from their ground, than recalling his own squadrons, and marching behind the rolling smoke to the right, he came in van of their flying comrades; and making a hastychevaux de frizeof his pikes, he permitted the fugitives to pass through and form behind, while the enemy's horse found their fate on his iron rampart. Field-pieces were rapidly brought forward to confirm this stand;and the leader of the Arabs falling by the first explosion, the Moors turned and fled towards their lines.
The centre and the right flank deserved the confidence of their leader; but the star of Ripperda was now on its last horizon. The Moors fought with desperation for empire,—for paradise! He performed prodigies of valour! The fabled exploits of romance were no longer marvellous to them who beheld Aben Humeya; but the Spanish numbers and discipline overpowered it all.
Louis saw that, on that field, his father's power in Africa, and perhaps himself, would on that day perish. Through the flashes of musquetry and of cannon shot, he saw that father moving in every direction, with the consummate generalship of a practised soldier, with a determined resolution that merited a better cause. Louis was desperate and devoted as himself; and though actuated by different principles, and exposing theirlives on adverse sides, they seemed actuated by the same spirit, to conquer or to die.
The Moorish entrenchments were forced in every point, the ditch filled with the slain, the camp set on fire that no delay might be made for plunder; and the infidels who survived, flying in every direction, without a leader, and without a refuge.
The slaughter was as tremendous as the discomfiture was signal and conclusive.
At the entrance of the mountainous track between the base of Abyla and the hills of Tetuan, the pursuing army was encountered by an ambuscade from Adelmelek's division. The envious Moor had disobeyed Aben Humeya's orders to join him in the field. He waited apart for the defeat of the Basha; but to ensure his own favour with the Emperor, he planted a powerful detachment to cover the retreat of any who might escape the horrors of the day.While the Spaniards were briskly engaged with this ambuscade, the fugitives retreated safely into the mountains; and the army of Adelmelek drawing behind some batteries he had prepared, Santa Cruz's orders to abandon the dangerous pursuit were at last obeyed; and the infuriate conquerors, drunk with blood and vengeance, returned in broken ranks to the rescued town of Ceuta.
Louis, who had accompanied the general chase, with no other sense but a breathless eagerness to know the fate of his father, galloped over the death-strewn earth with his eyes wandering all around, while his sword waved without aim over his unhelmeted head. The plumed crescent of Aben Humeya was no more to be seen. Even his standards had long disappeared from the field; and with the returning squadrons, the horse of De Montemar also quitted the pursuit.
The officers of cavalry alighted at the pavilion of Santa Cruz, where all of distinction in the army were assembled to congratulate the general on his victory. Louis entered mechanically with the rest. He was pale as a spectre; and the blood on his garments bore witness that he had not left his chamber that morning on a vain errand. His presence of mind had saved the day at its first commencement; and his undaunted arm had twice turned the Moorish scymetars from the head of his general. On his entrance, therefore, his brave compeers parted before him; and the oldest veterans present did not think themselves degraded in bowing their heads before the youthful hero.
When the eyes of Santa Cruz met his advancing figure, the bleeding image of Ripperda rose upon his recollection. He had seen him borne lifeless from the burning camp.
"He was his father!" cried the Marquis to himself, as he looked on the brave and devoted son; and stepping forward, he pressed him silently in his arms. Louisfelt the pulse of the pitying heart that beat against his; but he was not then susceptible of comfort from any human commiseration; and, with an unaltered aspect, he raised himself from the Marquis's breast, and passed unmoved through the less delicate crowd, who pressed on him with compliments on his exertions of the day. He heard nothing but the buzzing of many voices; and bowing without observation as they approached or retreated from him, left the pavilion; and as unnotingly proceeded to the city.
The nature of Ferdinand's wounds not allowing him to share in the service of the day, hourly messengers from the field duly communicated the progress of the victory. The contest was at last over; and the Marchioness and her daughter threw themselves in speechless thanksgiving upon the ground, before the Almighty Preserver of Santa Cruz. They had known all the agonies of being within hearing of a field of battle. The distantuproar of death; the thundering of the guns; the red and billowy clouds which, at every explosion, a strong east wind drove in darkening volumes over the fortress, were portentous accompaniments to the terrifying successions of the wounded, which every hour brought within its walls. The horrid suspense of that day often came over Marcella in future years, with a recollection so present of mental torture, that catching the hand dearest to her in the world, and trembling with dismay at what might have been the issue, she has wept over it tears of ceaseless gratitude. But in the dreadful hour of conflict, those tender expressions of anxiety were driven back upon their source; and, while thinking on no other object than the life of her father and his friend, her hands, with her mother's, assisted in binding up fractured limbs, and staunching blood, welling from many a brave heart.
The trumpet of recall from the victorious chase, sounded near the walls. The Marchioness rose from her knees; and though unable to move herself, from strong emotion, she dispatched Ferdinand and Marcella to meet their father. He supported his sister's agitated steps, while he sustained his own by the aid of his crutches. They were hastening along the main gallery of the castle, when Louis de Montemar entered from the field.
Aware of what must be his feelings on the defeat and fall of his father, Ferdinand instantly quitted his sister's side, and retreated from the melancholy greeting. Marcella was not less informed by her own heart, of what must then be tearing their friend's; but she did not fly, neither did she move towards him. She stood still, with her eyes rivetted on him in speechless occupation of soul. He had not seen Ferdinand: he did not see her though he passed her close. Marcella saw something dreadful in the fixture ofhis mien. Could such piety as his be stricken with despair? She sunk on her knees at the terrible image; and a sound, between a groan and a cry of supplication to heaven, burst from her lips, as, with clasped hands, she looked upon his disappearing steps.
That was a sound which had its chord in Louis's breast. He turned round. Marcella did not cover her face; for a brighter principle than terrestrial love actuated her soul for the noble sufferer before her. She knelt and looked on him. Louis approached her. He stood for a moment gazing on her. In the next, the whole agony of his mind agitated his before marbled features. As she started on her feet he took her hand, and firmly grasping it, said, "Oh, pray for me!" and then dropping it, again turned away, and passed out of sight along the gallery.