"I consent," said the general; "but I make you responsible for them."

"The marquis offers you his whole fortune, if you will consent to
pardon one of his sons."

"Really!" exclaimed the general. "His property belongs already to King
Joseph."

He stopped. A thought, a contemptuous thought, wrinkled his brow, and
he said presently,--

"I will surpass his wishes. I comprehend the importance of his last
request. Well, he shall buy the continuance of his name and lineage,
but Spain shall forever connect with it the memory of his treachery
and his punishment. I will give life and his whole fortune to
whichever of his sons will perform the office of executioner on the
rest. Go; not another word to me on the subject."

Dinner was served. The officers satisfied an appetite sharpened by
exertion. A single one of them, Victor Marchand, was not at the feast.
After hesitating long, he returned to the hall where the proud family
of Leganes were prisoners, casting a mournful look on the scene now
presented in that apartment where, only two nights before, he had seen
the heads of the two young girls and the three young men turning
giddily in the waltz. He shuddered as he thought how soon they would
fall, struck off by the sabre of the executioner.

Bound in their gilded chairs, the father and mother, the three sons,
and the two daughters, sat rigid in a state of complete immobility.
Eight servants stood near them, their arms bound behind their backs.