Chapter VI: Caducó La España!

The expedition of Chuquisaca met with no effective opposition. The Spanish authorities were reinstated, and many of the principal citizens of that far-off city were tried by court-martial and banished to Peru, there to languish in the stifling casemates of Callao. An expedition from Peru against La Paz, under General Goyeneche, was more stubbornly resisted. But the insurgents, badly organised and half armed, were routed with great slaughter, La Paz was taken by assault, many of the leaders perished on the gibbet, and their dismembered bodies were nailed on the sign-posts which marked out the public roads in Upper Peru.

The Patricios returned to Buenos Aires, but they cared not to speak of their exploits. Then men began to rouse themselves from their apathy and to murmur indignant words, whispering to one another with bated breath that Spain was ever the same Spain, that there was one law for Spaniards and quite another law for Americans. Elio and Alzaga and their companions, who had revolted against a Viceroy holding his appointment from the regal Court of Aranjuez, were held high in favour by the new ruler, who held his appointment only from the Junta of Seville. For Americans who had dared to revolt, there was the gibbet and the garotte, or imprisonment in a dreary dungeon.

The war in the Peninsula in the year 1809 was one long series of disasters to Spain, broken only by one or two insignificant triumphs, relieved only from utter disgrace by the heroic defence of Saragossa and that of Gerona, both alike unavailing.

The Sierra de la Morena stood as a huge, natural rampart around the ancient kingdom of Boabdil. Andalusia was as yet unsullied by the footstep of the invader, but to the north of the sierra, all organised resistance had ceased, the honour of Spain was upheld only by scattered bands of guerillas. Even the British allies of Spain, after their bloody but fruitless victory at Talavera de la Reyna, had retired to the frontiers of Portugal. Joseph reigned tranquilly at Madrid. All Spain, save that last stronghold of the Moors, lay prostrate at the feet of Napoleon.

Then the Junta of Seville determined upon one last desperate effort. Early in November an army of 50,000 men, with 7000 horse and sixty guns, issued from the defiles of the Sierra de la Morena, and marched upon Madrid. On the 12th November, on the wide plains of New Castile, they encountered their enemy at Ocaña. All that personal bravery could accomplish was done, but military skill and discipline were stronger than patriotism and fanaticism combined. The last army of Spain was completely routed--20,000 Spaniards breathed their last on that fatal field. The Sierra de la Morena remained almost undefended, the last bulwark of Spanish nationality.

Don Baltazar de Cisneros did all he could to prevent the extent of this disaster from being known in Buenos Aires, but it was impossible to keep it long concealed. In February, 1810, the minds of men, already excited by the news from the interior, became still further excited as they learned the full extent of the great defeat at Ocaña.

Men, no longer fearful of Spanish tyranny, thronged in the streets walking about in groups unchallenged, shouting boldly one to the other: "Spain has fallen!"

One day in the last week of February Don Carlos Evaña received a letter by private hand from General Miranda, who was at that time resident in London, and who was more active than ever in his revolutionary projects, as he saw Spain daily sinking lower and lower in her struggle against France. Enclosed in this letter came another for Don Alfonso Miranda. Don Carlos had not been near the Miserere for months, but on the evening of this day he walked out there. He found Don Alfonso and Magdalen seated in the porch together. Don Alfonso received him very cordially, and Magdalen, smiling upon him, reproached him for his desertion of them.

"It is so many months since I have seen you, Don Carlos," she said, "that I have almost forgotten the sound of your voice; but I went to see Doña Josefina last week, and she told me about you. You have been spending these last months very pleasantly, no wonder you forgot us. I did not think we should ever see you again."

"What nonsense are you talking, Chica?" said Don Alfonso.

But Don Carlos did not seem to think it nonsense, and smiled pleasantly upon her.

"There is some one who often speaks to me of you," he said. Then noticing that Magdalen looked troubled at this, he turned to Don Alfonso and spoke to him.

"To-day I received a letter from your brother the General," he said. "Every letter is more sanguine than the one before. He sends me an enclosure for you, which----"

"Go and walk in the garden, Chica," said Don Alfonso, interrupting him. Then as Magdalen left them he signed to Don Carlos to follow him to the sala, the door of which he closed before he spoke again.

Magdalen had not walked long in the garden before the gate opened and Don Ciriaco Asneiros entered. She received him with much less cordiality than she had formerly shown him. Even the name of Dolores failed to arouse her to animation, but for some minutes she walked beside him, listlessly attending to what he said, and answering his questions at random.

"And the old man?" said Don Ciriaco, tiring at length of this one-sided conversation.

"He is in the sala," replied Magdalen.

"Let us go and talk to him."

"No, do not go in yet, he has a visitor with him."

"Who is it?"

"The Señor Evaña is with him."

Then Don Ciriaco, leaving her, walked softly up to the sala window, which was wide open, and bent down, apparently intent upon the examination of the flowers growing beneath it.

"Don Ciricao!" called Magdalen, "come here, there are some much finer roses at the other side."

"The time has now come. The people that has not now the courage to strike for freedom is unworthy to become a nation."

Don Ciriaco had heard the rustling of paper, he had heard the above words read in a low voice by Don Alfonso. It was enough, he left the window and went back to Magdalen.

"Your uncle, Don Francisco, when do you expect him here?" he asked her brusquely.

Magdalen turned pale, looked at him with frightened eyes, and then said hurriedly:

"My uncle! I did not know he was coming. Papa never told me. My uncle never writes to papa."

"What is that you tell me?" replied Asneiros. "He is now reading to the Señor Evaña the letter he received to-day."

"You are mistaken," said Magdalen. "It is the Señor Evaña who has received a letter from my uncle. They sent me out here, I do not know anything of it."

Then twining her hands together and with tears of vexation in her eyes, as she saw him smile at her trouble, she turned from him and sought refuge in her own room.

* * * * *

Nearly a week after this, Don Carlos Evaña passing along one of the streets abutting upon the Plaza Mayor, paused to look upon a group of men who, standing in the open street in front of a large almacen, were discussing excitedly together, the latest news from Europe.

"I have said to myself that my work is all in vain," he said within himself. "In all that I have done I have done nothing, men have laughed at my words, and have scoffed at my ideas as at those of a dreamer. But has it been all in vain? who has given these men courage to speak such words as I hear now, in the open street? has not the day already come to put an end to this absurd farce of allegiance to Spain?"

As he so mused a hand was laid upon his arm, he turned and found himself face to face with Marcelino Ponce de Leon. In the face of his friend there beamed a look of pleasure such as he had not seen there for many months.

"You have heard the news of which those men talk," said Evaña, "and you are glad."

The smile faded from Marcelino's face, and passing his arm through Evaña's he led him away up the street. Turning his face from him and speaking in low tones he said:

"I have news which did make me very joyful, yet now I feel sad. Look----"

Putting his hand into his pocket, he drew out a letter and showed it to Evaña. The letter bore an English postmark, the address was in a bold hand which Evaña recognised at once. For a moment his firm step faltered, and a deadly pallor overspread his cheek, but it was for a moment only, the next he asked calmly:

"How did he escape?"

"He never sailed in the _Petrel_," replied Marcelino.

For a minute or two they walked on in silence, then Evaña spoke again.

"But you have not answered my question," he said. "Is not the day at hand? are we not already a free people?"

"Alas! it is too true. Spain has fallen," said Marcelino.

Again they walked on in silence; again Evaña was the first to speak.

"I have been idle," said he, "but the work has been done for me, while I have been asleep, dreaming. The day has arisen, the dreams of the night have passed from me."

Then seizing the hand of his friend he pressed it fiercely in his own, and turning from him strode rapidly away towards his own dwelling.

For two days Don Carlos Evaña shut his door to every visitor, on the third day he sallied forth and took his way to the house of Don Manuel Belgrano. He found Don Manuel in his study, and drawing a roll of paper from his pocket he handed it to him.

Don Manuel spread open the roll on his desk, and glanced over the papers. They consisted of a series of political articles for the _Diario_.

"It is too soon," said he, as he turned the last sheet and looked up.

"They would not meet the approval of his Excellency Don Baltazar?"

"I dare not even submit them to his inspection."

"The day is at hand when the editor of the _Diario_ will scorn the approval of the nominee of Spain," replied Evaña.

* * * * *

Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, walking through the streets of Buenos Aires, heard the careless comments of the people on the disasters which had befallen Spain, heard them as Don Carlos Evaña had heard them, but their effect upon him was far different.

"I have sought to raise this people from their ignorance," said he to himself; "I have studied their interests and welfare in every measure which I have adopted; I have even sought the aid of some of the most intelligent among them in the hope of inspiring them with the true spirit of patriotism, yet they can rejoice at the misfortunes which have fallen on my country, upon the country to which they owe the love and reverence of children to a parent."

So musing bitterly to himself he took his way to the fort. As he passed through the ante-room leading to the official apartments of the Viceroy, the door opened of a room in which Don Baltazar de Cisneros was accustomed to give private audience to such as were most in his confidence; from this room came forth Don Alfonso Miranda. Don Roderigo started, an angry frown spread over his features, he returned the obsequious bow of the medico with a haughty stare, and passed on into the presence of the Viceroy.

"Your Excellency is perhaps not aware of the character of the man who has just left you," said he to Don Baltazar, as he closed the door behind him.

"You speak of Señor Miranda?" replied Don Baltazar.

"I do," said Don Roderigo. "I have just passed through the city, I have listened to the comments of the Creoles upon the disasters which have fallen upon Spain, I have come to warn your Excellency that we are on the eve of a catastrophe."

"And what has that to do with the Señor Miranda?"

"In admitting such a man to your confidence your Excellency runs great danger, if he visits you, he comes as a spy."

"Yes, but as my spy."

"You are acquainted then with his character, and employ him?"

"I seek to do so, for, before I left Spain, he was named to me as a man who might be serviceable in procuring for me secret information. I am as well aware as you that there are dangerous ideas abroad in the city, and there are some men upon whom I wish to keep watch. The Señor Miranda visited me at my own request."

"And what has he told you?"

"Nothing; but he has promised to report to me upon the movements of one man, of whom Marshal Liniers entertained great suspicions, the Señor Evaña. If this excitement of the people should culminate in any outbreak against my authority, I am assured that the Señora Evaña will be at the head of it."

"Do you know that the Señor Miranda is brother to Francisco Miranda of Venezuela?"

"Of Francisco Miranda! No, I did not know that."

"Your Excellency should enquire more carefully into the antecedents of the men you trust," said Don Roderigo, with something of contempt in his tone.

"I was informed that about ten years ago the Señor Miranda gave timely information to the Consulado of some conspiracy which was thus averted."

"Of a conspiracy invented in his own brain," replied Don Roderigo angrily; "his information averted no conspiracy, for there was none, but cast suspicion upon some most loyal Spaniards, and drove some of the best servants of Spain from her service. I was one of the conspirators he denounced; think you that I am a less trusty servant of Spain than a Miranda from Venezuela?"

"Yet you have your ideas," replied Don Baltazar softly, "and you had not then the experience you have now."

"The experience I have now, teaches me that the ideas I entertained ten years ago were correct. You have removed the restrictions upon trade, you admit Creoles to your counsels, such were the steps which I advocated in the year '98; for this I was denounced by your friend the Doctor Miranda to the Consulado of Cadiz, and lost my seat in the Audencia Real."

"You introduced the Señor Evaña to me on my arrival, he is an intimate friend of yours, but I believe him to be a most dangerous man."

"He is a man who may be of great service to us," replied Don Roderigo; "I have sought his friendship in order to wean him from the extravagant ideas he learned during his residence in Europe."

"I am informed that he is about to marry your daughter. You would not give your daughter to any man suspected of disloyalty?"

"Your Excellency is well informed," said Don Roderigo, smiling.

"Then I will accept your guarantee for the loyalty of the Señor Evaña, but General Miranda has agents in this city and I suspect that the Señor Evaña is in correspondence with him."

"The principal correspondent of General Miranda is his brother," replied Don Roderigo, "that I can prove to you by the testimony of Major Asneiros, who has been commissioned by me to keep watch on this medico. Major Asneiros surprised him not a week ago reading to the Señor Evaña a letter from the General, doubtless with the intention of drawing him into some conspiracy. If your Excellency were to order the arrest of Don Alfonso, we should certainly learn from his papers the real nature of the projects of Don Francisco."

After some further conversation, Don Roderigo took his leave, and an hour later Major Asneiros sent by him, sought an interview with the Viceroy. The Major laughed heartily when he heard of the suspicions of Don Alfonso which Don Roderigo had excited in the mind of Don Baltazar.

"There is one man much more dangerous than the old medico ever can be," said Asneiros, "the Señor Evaña. He is the correspondent of General Miranda, that Don Roderigo knows well enough, and he overrates his influence with him if he thinks he can prevent him from engaging in any conspiracy against your authority."

"I have been frequently warned against the Señor Evaña," replied the Viceroy, "but without proofs of the existence of some conspiracy I dare take no steps against him, his arrest would only end in a fiasco like that of Puyrredon. How did you discover that he is in correspondence with Don Francisco?"

Then Asneiros recounted to Don Baltazar how he had surprised a confession of this fact from Magdalen Miranda, and continued:

"When she left me I went in after her and walked straight to the sala. Don Alfonso had an open letter in his hand which he crumpled up and thrust into his pocket. The Señor Evaña looked at me as though I were a wild beast, and soon afterwards put on his hat and went, but Don Alfonso kept the letter, and has it yet I don't doubt, for I know he has some secret hiding-place in his house. If we could get that letter we might find some proof against the Señor Evaña."

"I agree with you, in spite of the assurances of Don Roderigo, that Evaña is a most dangerous man," replied the Viceroy, "but I have every confidence in Don Roderigo himself, and shall entrust the management of this affair to him; if he instructs you to arrest Don Alfonso, do so, but remember, that what I want is a proof that the Señor Evaña is engaged in some conspiracy--proof such as I can show to Don Roderigo and to the Audencia Real, then I can proceed against the Señor Evaña without danger of having my orders set at defiance."

* * * * *

That evening Don Ciriaco set off alone on foot, for the Plaza Miserere. He reached the Quinta de Don Alfonso, opened the gate very cautiously, and walking to the sala window looked in. The medico was alone, seated in his arm-chair, buried apparently in deep thought, a shaded lamp burning on the table at his elbow. Don Ciriaco went back to the porch, and finding the house door open, entered very quietly and went in to the sala, treading softly and laying his finger on his lip. Alfonso started up with a faint cry, then sank down again into his chair, pale and trembling, as he recognised his untimely visitor. Asneiros went up to him, laid one hand on his arm, and whispered into his ear:

"Silence! all is discovered; but I have arranged a way for you to save yourself."

"What is discovered? I assure you I know nothing of it," answered Don Alfonso.

"I have come with the intention of helping you. If you wish me to be of any service to you, you must give me your entire confidence."

"But I assure you I refused to have anything to do with it, and would not listen to what he wished to tell me."

"The Senor Evaña spent the evening with you?"

"Yes, he did, but I kept my daughter with me, he could not speak with me."

"And the letter from your brother, did you return it to him?"

"What letter?"

"The letter he brought to show you last week."

"Mi Dios! Why should I return it to him? Why should I give him my letters? I burned it."

"You did badly, and you should have listened to the Señor Evaña this evening, he had something important to tell you."

"What matters to me that newspaper or the education of the people?"

"Look you, Don Alfonso, I did not come here to talk nonsense about newspapers or education. If you refuse me your confidence, I cannot help you. Your name is in the list of the suspected, but the head of the conspiracy is this Señor Evaña. Give me all the papers he has given you to keep for him, and I have a promise from the Viceroy that you shall not be molested in any way."

"The Señor Evaña has never given me any paper of his."

"Then I cannot help you at all," said Asneiros, rising from the chair on which he had seated himself. "Sleep well to-night in your own bed, to-morrow night you will sleep in the calabozo."

"Dios mio! Don Ciriaco," said Don Alfonso, seizing him by the arm, "what have I done? Why should they put me in the calabozo? I would not even listen to the Señor Evaña when he wished to speak to me of things."

"You did wrong not to listen, you might have learned something, and your evidence against Evaña would have saved yourself. But perhaps it is not too late, I will give you three days, after that I cannot protect you any longer; you will be arrested, your house searched, and all your effects confiscated."

"But, Don Ciriaco, do not leave me. Why do you say such things? You say there is some conspiracy, if there is I know nothing of it. The Señor Evaña has never spoken of it to me, how can I give evidence against him? Don Baltazar asked me----"

"A conspiracy there is, and we will know all about it very soon. Don Baltazar de Cisneros is not like that Frenchman Liniers, the least punishment the conspirators may expect will be imprisonment and confiscation. Take care of yourself, you do not appear very rich, but everything you have will be confiscated."

Don Alfonso fell back in his chair with a groan.

"I am not a conspirator, and I am very poor. God help me!" he said. "But, Don Ciriaco, you have always been a good friend to me, even yet you may do something for me; even if they put me in prison you will not let them search the house, you will prevent that. Why should they, I have nothing worth the trouble of carrying away."

"You can prevent it yourself; if you have no papers belonging to the Señor Evaña, you can find them."

Just then the door opened and Magdalen entered the room. Seeing the miserable state of her father she ran to him.

"Papa! papa!" she said, throwing herself on his breast, "what has this man been saying to you? Do not believe a word he says, I know that he comes here as your friend to do some treachery to you. Pay no attention to him."

"Look you, Don Alfonso," said Asneiros, "I give you three days to find those papers. If you do not find them you will explain to the Viceroy, and not to me, why you have secret hiding-places cut in the walls of your house."

At that, Don Alfonso thrust his daughter from him, and gazing with terror-stricken eyes at Asneiros tried in vain to speak, but Asneiros, turning from him went out through the door and through the porch and walked rapidly away.

Don Alfonso passed a sleepless night sitting in his arm-chair moaning and lamenting, Magdalen doing all she could to comfort him, till he sternly bade her leave him, saying that she had brought all this trouble upon him by attracting Asneiros to the quinta.

The next day Don Alfonso walked into the city, went straight to the house of Don Carlos Evaña, and told him everything that had occurred on the previous night, after he had left the quinta. Evaña listened somewhat scornfully, but looking at the haggard cheeks and blood-shot eyes of the old man, he felt pity for him.

"He wants proofs of a conspiracy? Pues! He shall have them. Here is all the conspiracy that there is," said he, taking up a copy of the _Diario_ which lay upon the table, "and his Excellency the Viceroy is at the head of us. We are conspiring to educate the people, and I fully believe that the Señor Asneiros is correct in thinking that it imperils the existence of Spanish rule among us."

Don Alfonso looked helplessly at him, and answered:

"He spoke of a letter from my brother, how has he come to know of that? The letter you gave me from him I have burned, I kept it two days, then I burned it. I always do, I want no letters from Francisco. What matters to me his plans, all that I want is to live in peace. Cannot you help me in some way? You told me that the time of arrests and confiscations was gone, and I lived without fear, but it appears that is all to begin again."

"You think so! I can assure you that those times are gone, never to return."

"And he assures me that in three days I shall be put into the calabozo."

"That will not do you any great damage, and may help the cause of the people. It would be a scandal, for nothing can be even alleged against you, and we shall soon get you out again. Now that I think of it, it is well that you be arrested, the city is very quiet and an arbitrary arrest might arouse a little excitement."

"Don Carlos!" exclaimed Don Alfonso, "what is this you say to me? They will search my house and rob me."

"Rob you! unless you have some treasure buried away under the flooring I don't think they will rob you of much."

"No, Don Carlos, no! I assure you I have no treasure. You know how poor I am. What can I have to bury under the floor?"

Don Carlos looked at him attentively one moment, then taking up the _Diario_, he folded it carefully into a small oblong packet, wrapped it in a sheet of paper, which he carefully sealed with three seals, and drawing an inkstand towards him, endorsed it:

_Proofs of the nefarious Conspiracy against the People of
Buenos Aires, entertained by H. E. Don Baltazar de Cisneros,
with the aid of Don Carlos Avaña and various others._

"I cannot compliment you on your choice of friends, Don Alfonso," he said, handing him the packet; "but when this distinguished major, the Señor Asneiros, next visits you, you can give him this as a proof of my treason. If after that he wishes to arrest me let him come, I am ready for him."

"But, Señor Don Carlos," said Don Alfonso, holding the packet at arm's length, "if I give him this he will say that I am mocking him, and then they will arrest me, and----"

"When do you expect him to visit you?"

"The day after to-morrow, in the evening."

"Then the day after to-morrow in the evening he shall meet me. If he should visit you in the meantime you can easily put him off."

The second day after this, about sundown, Don Carlos Evaña and Marcelino Ponce de Leon rode side by side through the suburbs towards the Miserere.

"You have judged rightly, Carlos," said Marcelino. "Any misfortune that might befall the old man would cause her great sorrow, and I thank you for asking me to assist you in anything that may keep a sorrow from her."

"Yet she treated you very badly," said Don Carlos. "She led you to feel sure of her love, and then transferred her affections with the greatest ease to that traitor of a Spaniard."

"I do not think so, she loved me once. But her father wishes it, he never liked me, and she submits."

"It is strange, I always thought her a girl of much strength of character. Did you ever tell her that you loved her?"

"Not in so many words, but she knew it; an avowal of love needs no words. But it is now more than a year since I have had a chance of speaking with her, she shuns me. When we meet she will not let me pay her the simplest attention. She has not forgotten me, but she is trying to forget me."

"Perhaps we have been mistaken all the time."

"Oh no, I made sure, I asked my aunt Josefina, and she told me that they were only waiting till Asneiros got some settled employ which the Viceroy had promised him."

"That will all be at an end now."

"I suppose it will, but it will make no difference to me, her father will find another husband for her. When a girl once gives up her own choice at her father's command it matters very little to her whom she marries. You and I have seen many instances of that."

"Too many," replied Evaña.

After this they rode on in silence till they reached the quinta, where they dismounted, tying their horses under the trees behind the house.

In the porch they found Magdalen, sitting alone, with her face buried in her hands, weeping bitterly. From inside the house came the sound of a voice raised high in anger.

"Do not weep, Magdalen," said Marcelino, bending over her. "Don Alfonso has two fast friends here, who will see that no injustice is done him."

Magdalen's tears ceased instantly at the sound of that voice, and a thrill of joy shot through her as she looked up and met the glance of the dark eyes bent upon her in tender sympathy.

"Oh, help papa!" she said. "Do not let them take him, he has done nothing."

"I will remain with Magdalen," said Don Carlos, seating himself beside her. "You are more likely to arrange the matter amicably than I am, he always shows great respect for you. Go you and see what this is all about."

Marcelino went instantly to the sala, and, opening the door, saw Don Alfonso, hardly able to stand, clinging to the back of a chair, while Asneiros, standing in the centre of the room, was speaking to him.

"You are mocking me," he said. "I know where to find these proofs if I choose to look. If that letter is burned you can procure another, or you can make a declaration, which will do as well. I wished to give you the chance of setting yourself right with the authorities. You refuse; well go your own way, and do not blame me if your house is robbed while you are in gaol."

"Señor Asneiros," said Marcelino, stepping forward, "this is not the tone in which you should speak to a man whose hairs are white with age. Permit me, Don Alfonso," he added, turning a chair round and assisting the medico to seat himself.

"Señor Don Marcelino," said Asneiros, softening his tone considerably, "it is a fortunate chance that has sent you here."

"It is no chance at all, Señor Asneiros," replied Marcelino; "I heard that you were threatening Don Alfonso with imprisonment for complicity in some conspiracy which exists only in your own imagination. What may be your real purpose I do not care to enquire, but I insist upon it that you leave this house immediately."

"Señor Don Marcelino, I assure you that I am only acting under orders, and am actuated by the most friendly motives to Don Alfonso. There are grave causes of suspicion against him, and I have shown him the means by which he can set himself right with the authorities."

"You wish him to save himself by bringing a false accusation against some one else. Enough of that, Señor Asneiros. Don Alfonso knows nothing of any conspiracy, and can in no way assist you."

"You speak well, you speak well, Don Marcelino," said Don Alfonso, still in great perturbation; "there is no conspiracy, but do not speak harshly to this gentleman. He has been a good friend to me on many occasions, and will protect me. Is it not so, Don Ciriaco? You will tell his Excellency that you have made every enquiry, and have found that there is no truth in the accusations that have been laid against me."

"I shall have the honour of reporting to his Excellency what you have told me, but I hope that further consideration may induce you to take a wiser course."

So saying, Asneiros took up his hat, and with a low bow to Marcelino left the room.

In the porch he was somewhat startled to find Don Carlos Evaña in earnest conversation with Magdalen, but passed them without a word and walked away.

"He knows nothing, and cannot assist me in any way," he muttered to himself as he slowly crossed the Plaza Miserere; "but I should like to have the inspection of that black coffer of his, he has some reason for keeping it so secret. Don Roderigo would be glad of any pretext for putting him in prison and looking through his papers. I'll give him one, who knows but I may do myself a service too?"

Don Carlos and Marcelino remained for two hours longer at the quinta, and had the pleasure of drinking tea once more from the porcelain cups of Magdalen Miranda, but the evening was not a pleasant one to any of them--there was a general feeling of constraint. Don Alfonso trembled at every noise, and was more than usually taciturn; Magdalen seemed confused, and spoke only in whispers.

As the two friends rode back to the city together through the darkness, Don Carlos spoke.

"I told her of the reports that are in circulation concerning her and this Señor Asneiros," he said. "It may be her father's wish but it is not hers, nor does she think that the major has any idea of it. She says that he has been a constant spy upon her father for more than a year past, and that she warned her father of him, but that he refused to listen to her."

"Poor girl!" said Marcelino, and then rode on in moody silence, hardly hearing a word of what Evaña said after that, till they reached the centre of the city and separated.

* * * * *

When Asneiros left the Miserere he walked straight to the house of Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, with whom he had a long interview, the result of which was, that at midnight a party of soldiers, under the command of the major, proceeded to the Quinta de Don Alfonso, woke up the inmates by knocking at the door, and shouted to them to "open in the name of the law." Don Alfonso was arrested and his private room rigorously searched, but for some time nothing worthy of notice was found, till Asneiros, prodding the wall behind the bedstead with his sword, discovered a hollow carefully concealed by the wainscot. Not knowing how to open it, he ordered a panel to be wrenched away, and disclosed a small coffer of black oak, bound with brass and very heavy, which he took away with him, together with all the letters and written papers he could find, while Don Alfonso, more dead than alive, was lifted into a small cart and driven away to the Cabildo, where he was imprisoned in the same apartment which had formerly been occupied by Marcelino Ponce de Leon.

During the examination of Don Alfonso's room all the inmates of the quinta had been, by the major's command, imprisoned in the sala. When he had secured the black coffer he prosecuted the search no further, but proceeding to the sala, ordered Don Alfonso to come out alone, saying that he merely wished to speak with him for a minute. Magdalen appeared with her father, clinging to him, when Asneiros rudely pushed her back into the room and shut the door, placing a guard there with instructions to allow no one to leave the house before sunrise.

On the morning following this arrest Don Fausto Velasquez, who was an early riser, was walking about in his patio, wrapped in a loose dressing-gown, when a girl, enveloped from head to foot in a large shawl, hurriedly came in through the open doorway, and, throwing herself upon her knees at his feet, caught his hand in both her own, crying:

"Papa! Don Fausto, papa! They have taken him! Don Ciriaco----"

She could say no more, and would have fallen on her face, but Don Fausto, taking her in his arms, raised her up and saw it was Magdalen. He carried her inside into his wife's room, where she presently recovered sufficiently to give a clear account of what had happened, but it was a long time before Don Fausto could persuade her that her father was in no danger, and would very soon be set at liberty.

Don Alfonso was but little known in the city, and those who did know him had but small respect for him, yet in the then excited state of the public mind, a very slight circumstance was sufficient to create great agitation. Men enquired eagerly one of another who was this Don Alfonso Miranda, and what was the cause of his imprisonment; and when they learned that he was the brother of General Miranda, whose exploits in Venezuela had caused him to be looked upon as the champion of liberty by all Spanish Americans, his crime became clear to them at once--he had dared to devise some scheme for liberating them from Spanish tyranny, and in their eyes he rose to be a hero and a martyr.

Groups of men paraded the Plaza Mayor and the principal streets, as they met they asked one another in loud voices:

"How long shall these things be?"

And as some Spaniard high in office passed them, frowning angrily and chafing within himself at his impotence to put a stop to such disorderly assemblages, they would turn and shout after him as he went:

"Spain has fallen!"

Don Carlos Evaña, strolling through the streets of the city, heard these shouts and smiled to himself:

"The day is at hand."

Marcelino Ponce de Leon, busy at his desk in the office of the Consulado, heard these shouts, and passed his fingers through his curly, black hair, saying resignedly:

"It is too late, America must be for Americans alone."

Don Manuel Belgrano, revising the proofs of his _Diario_, heard these shouts, and turned over with his fingers the sheets of a series of fiery articles he had received some days before, saying to himself:

"I might almost venture them now; they do but say what men now shout aloud at the street corners."

Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, in the quiet of his own study, heard these shouts and said nothing, for his heart was heavy with a foreboding care.

To the Viceroy, surrounded by his guards and sentries, came these shouts, and he shrugged his shoulders and thought nothing of them. To him they were but as the utterance of a fact, and conveyed no warning.

"Spain has fallen!" said old men, joining hands together, and reading each in the face of the other the realisation of a hope long deferred.

"Spain has fallen!" shouted men in the vigour of life, throwing back their heads proudly, and striding through the streets of their own city, treading the soil of their own country with a joyful sense of freedom.

"Spain has fallen!" shouted young men, as they saw the world opening up before them with prospects of which their fathers had known nothing, and who saw themselves the centre of proud hopes, as yet but dimly discerned through the mists of the unknown future.

"Spain has fallen!" So throughout the great, straggling city was heard the voice of the people, asking nothing, demanding nothing, proclaiming only a fact known to all.

Yet was this voice both a warning and a menace to those who sought to rule the people for their own ends. Buenos Aires had looked to Spain as to a mother, yet in this voice there was no pity. Buenos Aires still looked upon Spain as a tyrant, yet in this voice there was no fear.

The hatred of an enslaved people against their tyrants, the jealousy of a dependent race against the race which has dominated over them for centuries were both expressed in that one shout, which had in it nothing of love, nothing of fear:

"Spain has fallen!"