THE WIDOW'S SON. 



87 



zan's approach, rushed in, crying wildly for her sons. 

 All answered that the eldest was with them ; all knew 

 her, and one after another put his right arm respect- 

 fully over her shoulder and embraced her ; but the 

 young man who was wiping his sword drove it into 

 its scabbard, and, catching her up in his arms, lifted 

 her off the floor and whirled her about the room. The 

 poor old lady, half laughing and half crying, told him he 

 was as bad as ever, and continued asking for her sons. 

 At this moment a man about forty, whom I had noticed 

 before as the only one without arms, with a long beard, 

 pale and haggard, entered from the courtyard. The 

 old lady screamed, rushed toward him, and fell on his 

 neck, and for some moments rested her head upon his 

 shoulder. This was the one who had been imprisoned 

 by Carrera. General Morazan had forced his way into 

 the plaza, broken open the prisons, and liberated the 

 inmates ; and when he was driven out this son made 

 his escape. But where was her younger and dearer 

 son ? The young man answered that he had escaped 

 and was safe. The old lady looked at him with dis- 

 trust, and, calling him by his Christian name, told him 

 he was deceiving her ; but he persisted and swore that 

 he liad escaped ; he himself had given him a fresh horse ; 

 he was seen outside the barrier, was probably conceal- 

 ed somewhere, and would soon make his appearance. 

 The other officers had no positive knowledge. One 

 had seen him at such a time, and another at such a time 

 during the battle ; and all agreed that the young man 

 ought to know best, for their posts were near each other ; 

 and he, young, ardent, and reckless, the dearest friend 

 of her son, and loving her as a mother, told me after* 

 ward that she should have one night's comfort, and 

 that she would know the truth soon enough ; but the 



