est of their
master. Elias learned what had happened, and made feint of going away,
but returned to the back of the house, jumped the wall, climbed into a
window and made his way to the laboratory. He saw the papers, the arms
taken down, the bags of money and jewels, Maria's picture, and had a
vision of Ibarra surprised by the soldiers. He meditated a moment and
decided to bury the things of value in the garden. He gathered them
up, went to the window, and saw gleaming in the moonlight the casques
and bayonets of the guard. His plans were quickly laid. He hid about
his person the money and jewels, and, after an instant's hesitation,
the picture of Maria. Then, heaping all the papers in the middle of the
room, he saturated them with oil from a lamp, threw the lighted candle
in the midst, and sprang out of the window. It was none too soon:
the guards were forcing entrance against the protests of the servants.

But dense smoke made its way through the house and tongues of flame
began to break out. Soldiers and servants together cried fire and
rushed toward the cabinet, but the flames had reached the chemicals,
and their explosion drove every one back. The water the servants
could bring was useless, and the house stood so apart that their cries
brought no aid. The flames leaped upward amid great spirals of smoke;
the house, long respected by the elements, was now their prisoner.

XLVIII.

GOSSIP.

It was not yet dawn. The street in which were the barracks and tribunal
was still deserted; none of its houses gave a sign of life. Suddenly
the shutter of a window opened with a bang and a child's head
appeared, looking in all directions, the little neck stretched to
its utmost--plas! It was the sound of a smart slap in contact with
the fresh human skin. The child screwed up his face, shut his eyes,
and disappeared from the window, which was violently closed again.

But the example had been given: the two bangs of the shutter had
been heard. Another window opened, this time with precaution, and the
wrinkled and toothless head of an old woman looked stealthily out. It
was Sister Puta, the old dame who had caused such a commotion during
Father Damaso's sermon. Children and old women are the representatives
of curiosity in the world; the children want to know, the old women
to live over again. The old sister stayed longer than the child,
and gazed into the distance with contracted brows. Timidly a skylight
opened in