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cruelty he held sway. I knew better than to incur his displeasure. Of my princely salary not a piaster was forthcoming. But I dared not appeal to the French minister. I saw others 'retired,' and I knew myself watched and guarded. Besides, I would not go back to France and show myself—a fool, a dupe of my greed and vanity. I could not face the thought. I might assume another name, and begin anew in some provincial city; but to be near Paris, and not in it, would have been worse for me than my present position.
"My only solace in all this time was Cadriga's little daughter, seven years old. She was then a jewel of a child, a madcap, a tease, a loving little heart. She would steal from her Indian nurse, and, sitting by my carving-table, gravely watch me work and ask me questions.
"'Pierre,' she would say, 'I'm afraid of papa, and mama is always crying. I like you better than any one in the whole world. Now, are n't you glad that you came with us from France?' And, though my heart was breaking, I would tell her, 'Yes, Niña, I am glad, if I am any comfort to you.' Then she would put pepper in the dessert and salt in my sugar-shaker, and laugh at me."
"Just like a grown-up woman," I observed.
He shot a quick, questioning glance at me. "Yes," he acquiesced; "just like a woman grown."
"And then?" I questioned.
"Then came the revolution. Ah, monsieur, it was fearful, sudden, a bolt from the clear heavens!
"We had a great dinner that night for the cabinet and the chiefs of the army and navy. So secretly had the plot matured that no one dreamed of treachery till the blow fell. I had just sent in the fish course when I heard a cry from the sentry at the rear entrance of the patio, then a detonation and a crash. The revolutionists had dynamited the gate. Then it was a matter of minutes, the massacre in the palace. My one thought was for Annunciata. I rushed across the court and up the stone stairs to the second story. I caught her from her bed and held her fast. As I turned to flee, I ran against a man at the door. Fortunately, I recognized his silhouette against the light. It was José, the head coachman.
"'You have her!' he gasped. 'Hurry! There is an underground exit from the stables, if we can reach it.'
"The palace was pandemonium—cries, smashing of wood and glass, shots, the sound of running feet on the marble floors, the thud and rattle of heavy falls. Smoke billowed along the corridors. We made our way through it, running bent double. Suddenly we came out upon the head of the grand staircase, brilliantly lighted by hundreds of candles. The fighting below was at its height, and the noise was deafening. I caught a glimpse of the señora, dressed in black, as I had first seen her, and blazing with diamonds. Her face was as white as death, and blood darkened her neck and cheek. She was on her knees on the top step, crawling. 'Drop!' yelled José in my ear. I fell forward, protecting Annunciata with my body.
"A volley of shots went over our heads. José rose to his knees, pushed open a door, and we flung ourselves into the room. Glancing over my shoulder for one last look at the señora, I saw her lying still, her face upturned. A soldier, one of the president's own body-guard, was breaking the necklace from her throat. I closed the door and slipped the bolt. We fled along passages, through deserted rooms and cold, musty-smelling corridors. How José found the way I do not know. At length we reached the carriage-house, then the stables. Jose pushed back a panel, we passed through an opening, and fled on through an underground passage till further progress was barred.
"Jose turned to me. 'The President had this built in case of revolution, and the masons were put to death; but it is just possible that the insurrectionists know. In that case, when we open this door it is the end.'
"We listened long, straining minutes. Then, with a jerk, he flung the door wide open. All was still. The moonlight lay blinding white upon the gravestones. We were in the cemetery back of the cathedral, and the doorway through which we had emerged was that of a vault—one of the many in a row beneath the galleries of the 'ovens.'
"We hurried on, our steps ringing loud on the flags. Even now I can smell that odor of stale and fading flowers and damp mold; even now I can see the moonlight