“Have you come from San Francisco?”
“No, sir, I was in the Arch del Trenque. There was a cannon there. We had been firing a great deal. But San Francisco has been blown into the air when we least expected it. The whole part to the south and the west came to the ground, burying many people. There has been treachery, people say. Adios, Señor Don José. Here I stay. My eyes are getting dim. My tongue thickens. I am going, but the Virgin del Pilar will protect me. And here your honor has my oars.”
With them Montoria got on slowly towards the scene of the catastrophe. But we had to go around by the Calle San Gil, because we could not get through directly. The French had ceased firing upon the convent from the hospital; but, assaulting by San Diego, they quickly occupied the ruins, which we could not dispute with them. The church and the tower of San Francisco remained standing.
“Eh, Father Luengo,” said Montoria, calling to the friar of that name, “what is it? Where is the Captain-General? Has he perished in the ruins?”
“No,” replied the friar, stopping. “He is with officers in the Plazuela de San Felipe. I can announce the safety of your son Augustine to you, because he was one of those who were occupying the tower.”
“Blessed be God!” said Don José, crossing himself.
“All the part at the south and the west has been destroyed,” proceeded Luengo. “I do not know how they have been able to mine in that place. They must have placed the mines under the chapter house. We had not mined there, believing that it was a safe place.”
An armed peasant who had come up said:
“Yes, and we had the next house, and the French, having possession of parts only of Santa Rosa and San Diego, could not readily approach