Captain Lorenzo Bezan awoke on the day previous to that appointed
for his execution, with cheerful spirit. He found no guilt in his
heart, he felt that he had committed no crime, that his soul was
free and untrammelled. His coarse breakfast of rude cassava root and
water was brought to him at a late hour, and having partaken of
sufficient of this miserable food to prevent the gnawings of hunger,
he now sat musing over his past life, and thinking seriously of that
morrow which was to end his career upon earth forever. A strange
reverie for a man to be engaged in a most critical period-the
winding up of his earthly career.
"I wonder," said he to himself, somewhat curiously, "why Ruez does
not come to-day? it is his hour-ay, must be even past the time, and
the boy loves me too well to neglect me now, when I am so near my
end. Hark! is that his step? No; and yet it must be; it is too light
for the guard or turnkey. O yes, that is my door, certainly, and
here he is, sure enough. I knew he would come."
As the prisoner said this, the door slowly opened on its rusty and
creaking hinges, and the turnkey immediately closed it after the new
comer, who was somewhat closely wrapped in the profuse folds of a
long Spanish cloak.
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