Part 25 (1/2)
”Senor,” she replied, ”I have but one boon to crave. Give me my father's place here at this gun. Let me serve it as he served it, so long as the siege lasts. He has taught me how. You shall not find me remiss. I think I am not unskilful. Yesterday, in the presence of the dead, I vowed a vow--I vowed not to leave my post here till the French should retreat from Zaragoza. Let me but keep that vow. Give me here the right to hold my father's place, the right to draw his pay, and that portion of food for the helpless babes at home that every soldier's family may claim. I ask nothing else!” She spoke very simply; there was no thought in her heart of playing the hero's part. She asked bread for the children, and the right to earn it for them. If deep down in her heart the fire of patriotism was burning fiercely, she never thought of posing as a heroine sacrificing herself for her country. No, hers was a simple nature. She loved her father with pa.s.sionate devotion. She longed to accomplish the work which had been his. She yearned after the little helpless children, and felt she must earn for them the necessities of life. Provisions were beginning to run short. Rations were provided for the soldiers and their families; but the citizens were face to face with a scarcity that might become actual famine ere long. The little ones must not starve; such had been Agostina's leading thought. She would win for them their daily bread. She had been a mother to them for long; now she would be a father too.
Don Jose's face was gravely tender as he replied:
”My child, your pet.i.tion is granted. No more n.o.ble or courageous custodian of that gun could I find within these walls. I appoint you its gunner, with double pay. When peace has been restored, and I can tell to the world the story of the Maid of Zaragoza, it will go hard if the nation do not provide a pension too for so brave a daughter of her soil!”
Agostina's cheek glowed; she bent her knee for a moment, and ere Don Jose quite knew what she was about to do, she had pressed her lips upon his hand.
”Our Blessed Lady guard and keep you, Senor,” she said. ”You have granted me my heart's desire!”
It was a strange heart's desire, in truth! To stand upon that battered wall in the teeth of the enemy's guns; to be a target for the shot and sh.e.l.l of those terrible batteries; to serve that smoking gun, and send its fierce answers forth into the hostile camp of the invaders. Others fell about and around Agostina, but no shot touched her. They came to say that she bore a charmed life; and it, at least, was plain that the thought of fear could never find a lodging place within her breast.
Then came a desperate day when it seemed indeed as though all were lost.
A new battery was being built over against a convent, whose walls were weak already, and almost ready to fall. Strengthen them as they might, the garrison was helpless to effect any real improvement in their condition. They fell almost at the first shock when the new battery opened fire, and the French, rus.h.i.+ng in through the breaches made, took possession of one quarter of the city, and sent a haughty summons to Don Jose to surrender.
The situation was tragic enough. They were now between two fires, and only a wide s.p.a.ce like a boulevard separated the hostile camps. Don Jose had long been expecting succour from his brother, Don Francisco, who had sent word that he was marching to his relief with three thousand men and stores of food and ammunition. But there was no sign of his near approach as yet; and the city was in pitiful plight.
”Surrender! By capitulation alone can Zaragoza be saved.”
Such was the haughty message from the French General Lefebre, brought to Don Jose and his exhausted men after the fall of the quarter of the city called St. Engracia.
The Commander looked around upon the ring of gaunt men about him, and over at the shattered buildings of the town. What answer was it his duty to return? Was he justified in sacrificing all these brave lives? What did the people of Zaragoza think of it themselves? They had at least a right to be asked. It was they upon whom the brunt of these fearful days fell.
”What answer shall we return to General Lefebre?” he asked, looking from one to the other; and the men themselves seemed scarce to know what answer to make.
Then a voice from the crowd shouted out the words:
”Let us ask the Maid of Zaragoza!”
Don Jose's face lighted at the suggestion. He turned in the direction of the speaker, and cried aloud:
”Go--ask the Maid of the Gun what answer we shall send back. By her word we will abide!”
A strange thrill of enthusiasm ran through the whole city as the messenger sped forth to the farther wall to ask of Agostina what the Commander should answer. Strange as was the choice of such an umpire, there was something fitting and dramatic about it that fired the Spaniards, and wrought a strange kind of exultation among them.
Soon a gathering murmur in the distance, which increased to a perfect roar as the crowd surged onwards, showed that the answer was being brought back, and that it had stirred to the depths the impulsive and excitable populace.
”War to the knife! War to the knife!” The words detached themselves at last from the general clangour, and the soldiers, flas.h.i.+ng out their swords, took up the answer of the Maid of Zaragoza, and the welkin rang with the shout--”War to the knife!”
A few days after those four words had been sent by Don Jose to General Lefebre, the longed-for help came; and the eyes of Agostina shone and glowed as she watched from her gun upon the wall the French soldiers in full retreat blocking the road to Pamplona. The siege of Zaragoza was at an end; and the Commander came himself and fastened a medal of honour upon the heroine's breast.
AGNES BEAUMONT
”Thou shalt never listen to the rogue again!”
”But, father----”
”Silence, girl! Have I not said it? Thou shalt never go to hear him preach again! He is a pestilent knave. He will bring all who hear him to trouble. Dost hear me, girl? Thou shalt not go!”
”Nay, but, sweet father!”