in telling you that my father was in the French camp to collect his bill—”
Then she spoke no more, and slept profoundly. Augustine sat upon the ground, holding her on his knees and in his arms. I covered her feet with my cloak.
Augustine and I were silent, so that our voices might not disturb the sleep of the young girl. The place was deserted enough. Just back of us was the Casa los Duendes, close by the Convent of San Francisco, and opposite the college of San Diego, with its orchard surrounded by high mud walls which opened upon irregular and narrow alleys. Through these marched the sentinels who had been relieved, and the platoons going to the picket lines or coming from there. The truce was complete, and this repose signified a great battle on the following day. Suddenly the silence permitted me to hear muffled blows under us, in the depths of the earth. I understood that the French miners had reached this point with their picks, and told Augustine what I imagined it must be. He listened attentively; then he said to me—
“That seems indeed like mining. But how did they come here? The galleries that they made from the Jerusalem were all cut off by ourselves. How would they be able to take a step without meeting our men?”
“This noise indicates that they are mining from San Diego. They have a part of that building. Until now they have not been able to reach the wine-cellars of the Convent of San Francisco. If, by bad luck, they have discovered that the passage from San Diego to San Francisco is easy by the way under this house, it is probable that this is the passage that is being opened now.”
“Run this instant to the convent,” he said to me. “Go down into the cellar, and if you hear the noise, tell Renovales what is going on. If anything happens, call me, and I will follow.”