llant defence of the halbardiers, which they had not
reckoned upon, had caused them to lose much time, and after a short
consultation Concha and Leon took to flight. Concha hid himself under
the dry arch of a bridge, and afterwards took refuge at the Danish
embassy, where he passed a few days, and was then conveyed from another
embassy (French, of course) to headquarters at Paris. His caution in
wearing plain clothes saved him; while poor Leon, who thought, as he
afterwards said, that uniform was the proper costume for the occasion,
was taken at Colmenar, a few leagues from Madrid. Captain Widdrington
says, with much truth, that nothing could be more characteristic of the
two men than their different mode of acting in this trifling particular.

In the whole affair, Concha was the real director and manager, although
he sheltered himself behind the Count of Belascoain, who was put forward
as being a popular man, especially with the army. A braver or more
dashing cavalry officer than Leon could hardly be found, but he was of
the wrong stuff for a conspirator; his brains, as the Spaniards used to
say in rather a coarse proverb, were in the wrong place. But who that
had ever known or even seen him, could help regretting him, the
chivalrous, the high-hearted soldier, as much loved by his friends as he
was dreaded by his foes! His death was, doubtless, necessary as an
example, and should not be laid at the door of the Spanish government of
the day, but at that of the unprincipled and selfish faction that made a
tool of him. We are surprised to find, by Captain Widdrington's book,
that the petitions for his pardon, sent for signature to the national
guard of Madrid, were torn across and returned, the only name affixed to
them being that of Captain Guardia, who was then dying of wounds
received on the night of the insurrection. This speaks plainly as to the
general feeling in Madrid concerning the necessity of Leon's sentence
being put into execution, the national guard consisting of ten thousand
men, who represent every shade of political opinion.

While the fighting was going on, the Countess of Mina was doing her best
to shield the queen and her sister from the bullets of the insurgents,
who surrounded the royal apartments on three sides, and seem to have
been tolerably careless where they sent their lead. A shot came into the
room where the queen and her sister lay in bed. They were frightened,
and got up, and the attendants