More on the alert than he had been before for danger,
Lorenzo Bezan's sword was in his hand in an instant, and its keen
blade pierced to the very heart of the assassin, who fell to rise no
more.
Such, alas, seemed to be the fate of the page who had so gallantly
risked, and probably lost, his own life, to protect that of the
lieutenant-governor.
"Alas, poor youth," said Lorenzo Bezan, "why didst thou peril thy
life to save me from that wound? Canst thou speak, and tell me who
thou art, and what I shall do for thee?"
"Yes, in a few moments; bear me to Don Gonzales's house, quickly,
for I bleed very fast!"
Lorenzo Bezan's first thought, on observing the state of the case,
was to obtain surgical aid at once, and preferring to do this
himself to trusting to the strange rabble about him, he turned his
steps towards the main barracks, where he expected to find his
friendly surgeon whom he had despatched to serve General Harero. He
found his trusty professional man, and hastily despatched him to the
house of Don Gonzales, bidding him exercise his best skill for one
who had just received a wound intended for his own body.
We, too, will follow the surgeon to the bedside of the wounded page,
where a surprise awaited all assembled there, and which will be
described in another chapter.
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