46 The Spanish Headsman. 



pliance with it was surely out of the question ; and why should the cup 

 of grief, already full, be unnecessarily overcharged ? The entreaties of 

 Clara, however, overcame him ; her face wore the hue of death as she 

 listened, but she struggled violently with her feelings, and assuming 1 

 a comparatively calm and tranquil air, she arose and placed herself 

 solemnly on her knees at her father's feet. " Oh, Sir ! Father !" she ex- 

 claimed j and as all leaned forward in breathless attention, her accents 

 fell clear and distinct around, as earth upon the coffin-lid. " Command 

 command Juanito to swear by all his hopes of mercy hereafter, that he 

 will now obey your orders, whatever they may be, to their fullest extent, 

 and we shall yet be happy." The mother trembled from joy and hope, 

 eagerly, as unobserved she bent forward to participate in the communica- 

 tion her daughter whispered in her father's ears. She heard, and fell 

 fainting to the earth. Juanito himself seemed evidently aware of its 

 intent j for he writhed from rage and hbrror. 



Victor now commanded the guards to quit the room, the Marquis 

 renewing his promise of unconditional submission. They accordingly 

 retired, leading away the domestics, who, as they issued forth, were 

 delivered over, one by one, to the public executioner, and successively 

 put to death. 



Thus relieved from painful intrusion, the old man arose " Juanito! " 

 said he, sternly. The son, aware of his father's intention, only replied 

 by an inclination of the head, indicative of a decided refusal. He then 

 sank into a chair, while his wild, fixed, and haggard look rested upon his 

 parent. "Come, come, Juanito; .dearest brother!" said Clara, in an 

 encouraging and cheerful tone, as she playfully placed herself upon his 

 knee., one arm encircling- his neck, the other hand fondly removing the 

 hair from his burning forehead, which she affectionately kissed. " If you 

 knew, my Juanito, my own kind brother, how welcome death would be, 

 if given at your hand. Think, Juanito ! my loved, loved, Juanito! that 

 I shall thus escape the odious touch of the public executioner. You, you 



will end my sufferings: and so shall we thwart the triumph of /' 



Her dark eye turned from Juanito full on Victor, as if to awaken in her 

 brother's bosom all his hatred of the French. 



" Be a man, brother. Summon all your courage! said Filippo; " Let 

 not our name perish, and by your fault." 



Clara arose; while all made way for the Marquis, who addressed his 

 son. "It is my will I command you, Juanito." The young Count 

 moved not, stirred not; and his father fell at his feet. Raffaele, Filippo, 

 and their sisters did the same, stretching forth their supplicating hands 

 towards him, who alone could save their name from forgetfulness and 

 extinction, while the Marquis, on his knees, continued, " My son, my 

 Juanito, prove yourself a Spaniard. Show the stern resolve, the noble 

 feeling of a Spaniard. Let not your father thus kneel in vain before you. 

 What are your sufferings compared with the honour of those you love 

 those who so truly love you? Let not your own sorrows prevail against 

 your father's prayer. Would I not die for you were it required of me ? 

 Live then for us. Let not the hand of infamy insult my hoary head. 

 Is he our son, Madam?" indignantly exclaimed the Marquis, addressing 

 his wife as he arose, while Juanito, with a fixed and horrid stare, sate dead- 

 like; the distended muscles of his livid front, seeming less the traits of 

 mortal man than those of chiselled marble. fi He yields, he yields," 



