Fresh troops were despatched, in reply to his courier, to escort these to the capital, and an order for himself and the rest of his command to return to Madrid, forthwith.  This summons was of course complied with, and marching the remnant of his command to the capital, Captain Bezan reported himself again at head quarters.  Here he found his services had been, if possible, overrated, and himself quite lionized.  A major’s commission awaited him, and the thanks of the queen were expressed to him by the head of the department.

“A major,—­one step is gained,” said the young soldier, to himself; “one round in the ladder of fame has been surmounted; my eyes are now bent upward!”

And how he dreamed that night of Cuba, of rank and wealth, and the power and position they conferred-and still his eyes were bent upward!

With a brief period permitted for him to rest and recover from slight wounds received in his late battles, Lorenzo, now Major Bezan, was again ordered to the scene of trouble in the southern district, where the insurgents, more successful with older officers sent against them, had been again victorious, and were evidently gaining ground, both in strength of purpose and numbers.  This time he took with him a full command of four companies, little less than four hundred men, and departed under far better auspices than he had done before, resolved, as at the outset, to lead his men where work was to be done, and to lead them, too, on to victory or utter destruction!  It was a fearful resolve; but in his present state of feelings it accorded with the spirit that seemed to actuate his soul.

But success does not always crown the most daring bravery, and twice were Lorenzo Bezan and his followers worsted, though in no way discouraged.  But at last, after many weeks of toil and hardship, he was again victorious, again routed twice his own number, again captured a stand of colors, and again despatched his trophies to the feet of his queen.  The civil war then became general, and for nearly a year Lorenzo Bezan and his followers were in the battle field.  Victory seemed to have marked him for a favorite, and his sword seemed invincible; wherever he led, he infused his own daring and impetuous spirit into the hearts of his followers, and where his plume waved in the fight, there the enemy faltered.

A second and third victory crowned him within another promotion, and a colonel’s commission was sent to the adventurous soldier after the hard fought battles he had won for the queen.  Once more he paused, and whispered to himself: 

“Another round in the ladder is gained! have patience, Lorenzo Bezan; fame may yet be thine; she is thy only bride now; alas, alas, that it should be so! that there cannot be one-one dearer than all the world beside-to share with thee this renown and honor, this fame won by the sword on the field of battle; one whose gentleness and love should be the pillow on which to rest thy head and heart after the turmoil and whirlwind of war has subsided!”