calm.

One member alone, pale, undone, leaned upon the priest, who spent his
powers of religious consolation upon this man,--the only one who was
to live. The executioner knew, as did all present, that Juanito had
agreed to accept his place for that one day. The old marquis and his
wife, Clara, Mariquita, and the two younger brothers walked forward
and knelt down a few steps distant from the fatal block. Juanito was
led forward by the priest. When he reached the place the executioner
touched him on the arm and gave him, probably, a few instructions. The
confessor, meantime, turned the victims so that they might not see the
fatal blows. But, like true Spaniards, they stood erect without
faltering.

Clara was the first to come forward.

"Juanito," she said, "have pity on my want of courage; begin with me."

At this instant the hurried steps of a man were heard, and Victor
Marchand appeared on the terrace. Clara was already on her knees, her
white neck bared for the scimitar. The officer turned pale, but he ran
with all his might.

"The general grants your life if you will marry me," he said to her in
a low voice.

The Spanish girl cast upon the officer a look of pride and contempt.

"Go on, Juanito!" she said, in a deep voice, and her head rolled at
Victor's feet.