The departure of the French troops left the way clear for the party of Juarez.  It rapidly gained strength, and prepared to besiege the emperor in his capital.  “I cannot bear to expose the city to danger,” said Maximilian, who, in spite of being continually harassed and cruelly deceived day after day, never failed in consideration for those about him.  He retired to Queretaro, where Generals Miramon, Castillo, Mejia, Avellano, and Prince Salm-Salm had gathered a little army of about eight thousand men.

Maximilian at Queretaro showed all his nobleness of spirit, kindness of heart, and simplicity of life.  During the siege, which lasted over two months, he shared the fatigues and privations of his common soldiers, and lived as they did, on the flesh of mules, while his officers’ tables were much better supplied.  He exposed his person upon all occasions, taking daily walks upon the bastions as tranquilly as he might have done in the green alleys of his distant home.  One day his eye fell upon six dead bodies dangling from the branches of six trees.  He turned away, with intense emotion.  They were the bodies of six of his own couriers, who had fallen into the hands of the enemy.

He might have cut his way out of Queretaro at the head of his cavalry, but he hesitated to abandon his foot-soldiers.  “I will die sword in hand,” were now his daily words.

Every day his men brought in prisoners.  Even when such persons were suspected of being spies, Maximilian would not order their execution.  “No, no,” he said; “if things go well, there is no need; if ill, I shall not have their blood upon my soul.”

When the siege had lasted seventy days, provisions grew so scarce that the only alternatives seemed a sortie or a surrender.  The sortie was decided on.  On the night of May 14, 1867, the seven thousand men still in Queretaro were to break through the lines of the enemy and endeavor to make their way to Vera Cruz.  Singularly enough, the Juarist general, Escobedo, had fixed on the 15th of May for his final assault.

Neither sortie nor assault took place.  The treason of General Lopez prevented the one, and rendered the other unnecessary.  Lopez, whom Maximilian had loaded with all sorts of kindness,—­Lopez, who called himself the most devoted adherent of the emperor,—­had sold the life of his friend and benefactor for two thousand ounces of gold!

One year before, when Lopez had been at Puebla in attendance on the empress, he had sent for his wife, who, having made a hurried journey, was prematurely confined.  “I cannot allow your son,” wrote Maximilian, “to come into the world in another man’s house.  I send you the I enclosed sum.  Purchase the house where your son was born.”

Having kept up constant communication with the camp of the besiegers, Lopez, on the morning of May 13, sent a note to Escobedo, offering to deliver over to him the convent of La Cruz, which was the emperor’s headquarters.  Escobedo accepted his proposals.  About midnight Lopez and the troops under his command went over to the enemy.  The soldiers of Juarez quietly entered the town, and surrounded the convent where the emperor and his staff were sleeping.