It was midnight in the prison of Havana; nought could be heard by the listening ear save the steady pace of the sentinels stationed at the various angles of the walls and entrances of the courtyard that surrounded the gloomy structure.  It was a calm, tropical light, and the moon shone so brightly as to light up the grim walls and heavy arches of the building, almost as bright as if it were day.  Now and then a sentinel would pause, and resting upon his musket, look off upon the silvery sea, and perhaps dream of his distant Castilian home, then starting again, he would rouse himself, shoulder the weapon, and pace his round with measured stride.  Lorenzo Bezan, the condemned, had knelt down and offered up a prayer, silent but sincere, for Heaven’s protection in the fearful emergency that beset him; he prayed that he might die like a brave man, yet with a right feeling and reconciled conscience with all mankind.  Then throwing himself upon his coarse straw bed, that barely served to separate him from the damp earthen floor, he had fallen asleep-a calm, deep, quiet sleep, so silent and childlike as almost to resemble death itself.

He had not slept there for many minutes, before there was heard a most curious noise under the floor of his prison.  At first it did not awaken him, but partially doing so, caused him to move slightly, and in at half conscious, half dreamy state, to suggest some cause for the unusual phenomenon.  It evidently worked upon his brain and nervous system, and he dreamed that the executioner had come for him, that his time for life had already expired, and the noise he heard was that of the officers and men, come to execute the sentence that had been pronounced upon him by the military commission.

By degrees the noise gradually increased, and heavy bolts and bars seemed to be removed, and a gleam of light to stream across the cell, while the tall form of a man, wrapped in a military cloak, came up through the floor where a stone slab gave way to the pressure applied to it from below.

Having gained a footing, the new comer now turned the light of a dark lantern in the direction of the corner where the prisoner was sleeping.  The figure approached the sleeping soldier, and bending over him, muttered to himself, half aloud: 

“Sleeping, by Heaven! he sleeps as quietly as though he was in his camp-bedstead, and not even under arrest.”

As the officer thus spoke-for his cloak now falling from one shoulder, partially exposed his person and discovered his rank-the strong light of the lantern fell full upon the sleeper’s face, and caused him suddenly to awake, and partially rising from the floor, he said: 

“So soon! has my time already come?  I thought that it was not yet.  Well, I am ready, and trust to die like a soldier!”

“Awake, Captain Bezan, awake!” said the new comer.  “I have news for you!”

“News!”

“Yes.”

“What possible news can there be that I can feel interested in?”