not quite, dead, with five wounds, one in the heart, two in the
stomach, one in the finger, and the other in the arm. Some soldiers
cocked their guns, and wanted to hinder me from passing. However,
we passed, and I found Diego, the adjutant, crying over him like a
child--a surgeon, who said nothing of his profession--a priest,
sobbing a frightened prayer--and the commandant, all this time, on
his back, on the hard, cold pavement, without light or assistance,
or any thing around him but confusion and dismay.

"As nobody could, or would, do any thing but howl and pray, and as
no one would stir a finger to move him, for fear of consequences, I
lost my patience--made my servant and a couple of the mob take up
the body--sent off two soldiers to the guard--despatched Diego to
the Cardinal with the news, and had the commandant carried up
stairs into my own quarter. But it was too late, he was gone--not
at all disfigured--bled inwardly--not above an ounce or two came
out.

"I had him partly stripped--made the surgeon examine him, and
examined him myself. He had been shot by cut balls, or slugs. I
felt one of the slugs, which had gone through him, all but the
skin. Every body conjectures why he was killed, but no one knows
how. The gun was found close by him--an old gun, half filed down.

"He only said, 'O Dio!' and 'Gesu!' two or three times, and
appeared to have suffered little. Poor fellow! he was a brave
officer, but had made himself much disliked by the people. I knew
him personally, and had met him often at conversazioni and
elsewhere. My house is full of soldiers, dragoons, doctors,
priests, and all kinds of persons,--though I have now cleared it,