An unnatural calm fell
upon my soul like some dense mist upon the face of the ocean. Beneath
that mist the waters might foam, above it the sun might shine, yet
around was one grey peace. In this hour I seemed to stand outside of my
earthly self, and to look on all things with a new sense. The tide of
life was ebbing away from me, the shore of death loomed very near, and
I understood then, as in extreme old age I understand to-day, how much
more part we mortals have in death than in this short accident of life.
I could consider all my past, I could wonder on the future of my spirit,
and even marvel at the gentleness and wisdom of the Indian woman, who
was able to think such thoughts and utter them.
Well, whatever befell, in one thing I would not disappoint her, I would
die bravely as an Englishman should do, leaving the rest to God. These
barbarians should never say of me that the foreigner was a coward. Who
was I that I should complain? Did not hundreds of men as good as I was
perish daily in yonder square, and without a murmur? Had not my mother
died also at the hand of a murderer? Was not that unhappy lady, Isabella
de Siguenza, walled up alive because she had been mad enough to love a
villain who betrayed her? The world is full of terrors and sorrows such
as mine, who was I that I should complain?
So I mused on till at length the day dawned, and with the rising sun
rose the clamour of men making ready for battle.
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