Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

nutl was most |
The general, who war. losing nil hU Mood. B
five worn i< , it to the rare of this young aud '
A DOUBLK SACE11
:
'i, who luul obtained tin'
|>hy..ieiaii.
)But at the very moment when the two doctors wen- coing to
dress the general's wounds, they :
:nv the Pontifical f.-ill-
troops
the field of battle to t!
iug back in disorder, abandoning
torious Piedruoutese. Maestraeten'e companion saw the dan-
ger. " Let us fly, my friend. It is time to go," he cried in ex-
treme, terror.
"1 go ? Never !" replied the noble young man. "I'll never
abandon the general nor our poor wounded."
Bat, without answering, his colleague hastened to escape.
"I need scarcely tell you he wasn't a Belgian," observed
jrat'straoten, writing to his parents. And the young Zouave,
himself slightly wounded, alone remained with his dying
general and his mutilated ings.
companions a prey to acute suffer-
The ambulance then presented a truly heart-rending spectacle.
There were about thirty wounded officers and privates in
in had their wounds washed
it ; those who were first brought
an .1 dressed ; the others w> re waiting their turn. Blood flowed
condition, and awaited death with admirable calmness. At his
request, Cialdini consented that the young Maestraeten should
remain by him to the last.
And, alas ! the end of that hero was very near.
' ' The gen-
eral suffered cruelly," wrote one of the young Belgian prisoners
a few days later, "but did not cease for an instant to bear
his sutt'eriujrs with the patience, courage, and resignation of a
martyr. Exhausted by pain and the loss of blood pouring
through five wounds, he drew his last breath a little before
midnight." God had crowned His soldier, and summoned him
to heaven to make him partaker of His glory.
The General-in-Chief of the Pontifical troops tried, however,
to rally the straggling and scattered fugitives who jostled each
other on the battle field. He had vainly striven to form them
into a battalion behind the stone fence and around the farm,
where they were protected from the ravages of the artillery.
But he could not succeed in reforming them, and had to order
what troops remained to retire behind the heights of Musone,
and cross the river in the direction of Umana. These dispositions
having been made, he returned to the farm where he was
the noble
;o, for the last time, the hand of his friend,
dan.
General," said the dying man then, " they have fought
"
like heroes; the Church's honor is safe Farewell !
Lanioriciijiv next ordered the retreat to bo sounded; then, as
the farm of Crocetto could no longer be defended, he charged
Colonel Coudenhoveu to hunt up the troops who still remained
and direct them up towards the river, making every
effort to save at least the heavy artillery. These latter combatants
covering the retreat in the battle field, fought with
of lions and the vigor of athletes. Soon, of the
I ul!
-two last defenders of the Crocetto farm, only eight re-
the others having been wounded; but those eight
for n whole hour defended that perilous post again
A fe.w i-teps from them t!
an.
tnary Maze up to the top
t brcalh of wind might blow those burning
> of of the farm and scatter them among them,
and yet they 'wavered not, bat still fought on. Their
sant volleys thundered one after another, and every shot
brought down an enemy.
"Ha! look out there!" cried the Zouave d'Hout, and the
Sardinian rolled on the ground, drowned in blood, aud thus
twenty-one Picdmontese fell on- after another.
Their guns burned their hands, and might at any moment
explode, killing themselves. But before them the dead and
dying lay heaped upon the farm-yard, and they continued to
spread around them in terror and damage. They were :
swayed by the spirit of war, by the genius .
of v
those,
eight heroes with faces blackened with p->wder and perspira-
tion, eyes glaring, lips compressed, and chests heaving.
Suddenly a discharge of artillery resounded and tore away
half the roof. A cmnon ball falls in the middle of the room;
the floor shakes, the wall crumble, a torrent of flames and
clouds of smoke burst through the opening. Tho Piedmon-
on all sides, pain and delirium wrung piercing cries even
from those heroic combatants those martyrs in a good
cause.
To crown their misfortunes, the Piedmontese were not slow
to surround the house. "Then those self-styled soldiers of civilization,
who were pleased to accuse the Pontifical volunteers
of cruelty and perfidy, signalized themselves by strange and
odious conduct. Although the black flag adopted by the ambulance
had been hoisted on the housetop, those ferocious assailants,
rushing to all the outlets, fired through the door and the
windows upon the unfortunate wounded, repeating those atrocious
volleys which, rather badly directed, however, produced
little effect ten times. But all hope was lost, and those heroic
reinmv;ts of an army of tese, despairing
heroes, fainting and abandoned,
were constrained to surrender.
The illustrious Pimodau, whom Bresciani justly compares
to Judas Machabeus, made no allusion to the gravity of his
of reducing this little handful of heroes force, had set fire to the roof that sheltered them.
' '
"
Surrender ! surrender ! they cried out to them on
sides.
by
all
"Rather die a thousand times!" replied Le Camus and
Tresvaux, discharging their pieces through the windows of the
burning house.
But the fire is sprendin^r, the flames coil upwards, the beams
crackle, and the walls burst assund-r. At this sight the
wounded cannot repress a feeble groan.
Bage then gave place to pity in the hearts of the valiant,
Zouavis; they wave a white handkerchief, knotted round the
butt-end of a gun, through one of the windows. The 1'i.dmontese
c^ase firing, and the Zouaves, placing the wounded on
their shoulders, emerge from the ruins of the crumbling house.
They then glance around them, looking for their comrades,
their generals, the remainder of tii3 army; no moi
them, no more hope the Pontfical camp was completely
"
destroyed. At least our honor is safe," they all cried
together; "and blessed ba our dead they repose in the
Lord."
Thus ended that glorious combat, of which, strange to say, all
the honor reverts to the martyrs, to the vanquished, to the defenders
of the persecuted faith, while, since that day, an
ineffaceable stain remains on the hands and brows of the
conquerors.
Moreover, the illustrious General-in-Chief of the PontinVal
army had, despite all, succeeded in carrying into execution his
bold and ingenious project. Collecting around him Hie tl< /