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Luis de Leon does not emulate Alcázar's epigrammatic wit, nor Herrera's Petrarchan sweetness, nor Ercilla's tumultuous rhetoric.
Again the animal shyed, and refused. His rider uttered a furious oath, and resolutely turned about, as if resolved to fight now that he could no longer fly. Herrera's heart beat quick with hope. At length, then, he should rescue and revenge his Rita. He was within twenty yards of the Carlist, when the latter drew a pistol and fired at him.
Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, a sucking barrister, was his private secretary. "My good friend," said the Comte de Granville to Camusot, whom he took to the window, "go back to your chambers, get your clerk to reconstruct the report of the Abbe Carlos Herrera's depositions; as he had not signed the first copy, there will be no difficulty about that.
Such was the fate of President Herrera's administration in 1845 for being disposed even to listen to the overtures of the United States to prevent the war, as is fully confirmed by an official correspondence which took place in the month of August last between him and his Government, a copy of which is herewith communicated.
He drew it all in, again twisted it about his body, and lying down upon his belly, put his head over the edge of the tiles to see what was passing beneath. All was quiet; no light was visible from the window of Herrera's room, which was at about a dozen feet below him.
It was a vague and undefined apprehension of some attempt at a rescue, that had led him, at so late an hour on the night of the escape, to prowl in the vicinity of Herrera's prison. The autumn and winter of 1834 passed away without any material change in the position of the personages of our narrative.
"I am much mistaken or the enemy have got the alarm, and are on the look-out for us." The prospect of action was perhaps the only thing that could then have diverted Herrera's thoughts from the painful subject pre-occupying them.
He had first been puzzled by Herrera's conduct at Puente de la Reyna; the importance attached by the Christino officer to the possession and identification of his pistols was unaccountable to him, never dreaming of its real motive.
In a lofty and spacious apartment of this mansion, and on the evening of the first day after that of Herrera's departure from Puente de la Reyna, we find Count Villabuena reclining in an easy-chair, and busied with thoughts, which, it might be read upon his countenance, were of other than a pleasant character.
Finding, at length, that all Herrera's menaces had no effect on Baltasar's sullen obstinacy, Count Villabuena, his heart wrung by suspense and anxiety, condescended to entreaty, and strove to touch some chord of good feeling, if, indeed, any still existed, in the bosom of his unworthy kinsman. "Hear me, Baltasar," he said; "I would fain think the best I can of you.
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