My poor mistress began to plead with the barbarians in the most touching manner, and so sweetly that she would have softened the heart of a demon.
She offered them her purse, her gold waistband, and a fine diamond which she drew from her finger; but nothing could move these tigers, and one of them said, 'I am going to kill all the Catholics at once, and shall be gin with you.' 'What will you gain by my death ?' asked my mistress.
'Spare my life.'-- 'No; shut up!' replied he.

'You shall die by my hand.

Say your prayers.' My good mistress threw herself at once on her knees and prayed aloud that God would show mercy to her and to her murderers, and while she was thus praying she received a pistol-shot in her left breast, and fell; a second assassin cut her across the face with his sword, and a third dropped a large stone on her head, while the fourth killed the nurse with a shot from his pistol.

Whether it was that they had no more loaded firearms, or that they wished to save their ammunition, they were satisfied with only giving me several bayonet wounds.

I pretended to be dead: they thought it was really the case, and went away.