Carmen Ariza Part 91

Long before sun-up the soldiers and the _peones_, whom Captain Morales had impressed, were busy gathering the commandeered rifles and carrying them down to the gunboat Hercules, waiting at the mouth of the Boque river, some six or eight miles distant, and over a wild trail. The townsfolk, thoroughly frightened, hugged the shelter of their homes, and left the streets to the troops. Though they detested the soldiers, yet none would lightly risk a blow from the heavy hand of Morales, whose authority on a punitive expedition of this sort was unlimited. The summary execution of the Alcalde had stricken them with horror, and left an impression which never would be erased from their memories.

Immediately after the early _desayuno_ the captain appeared at Rosendo's door. He had come to say farewell to the priest. All of the soldiers had disappeared down the trail, with the exception of the two who formed the captain's small personal escort.

"_Conque, adios, Senor Padre_" he called cheerily, as he approached.

Jose was sitting at table with Rosendo's family and Don Jorge.

Instinctively he rose hastily, and seizing Carmen, thrust her into the adjoining bedroom and closed the door. Then he went out to face the captain.

"Much excitement for your little _pueblo_, no?" exclaimed the captain with a bluff laugh as he grasped Jose's hand. "But a lesson like this will last a century. I rejoice that I found it unnecessary to burn the town."

Jose trembled as he replied. "_Senor Capitan_, I, too, rejoice.

But--the state of the country--what may we expect?"

The captain laughed again. "_Caramba, Padre mio_! who can say? There is much talk, many angry looks, much gesturing and waving of hands.

Congress still sits. The President sees fit to send me here, without order from the Departmental Governor. _Hombre_! what will follow?

_Quien sabe_?" He shrugged his shoulders with that expressive Latin gesture which indicates complete irresponsibility for and indifference to results.

Jose's heart began to beat more regularly. He again took the captain's hand. He was eager to see him depart. "_Bueno pues, Senor Capitan_,"

he said hurriedly. "I wish you every felicitation on your return trip.

Ah--ah--your orders contained no reference to--to me?" he added hesitatingly.

"None whatever, _Senor Padre_," replied the captain genially. He turned to go, and Jose stifled a great sigh of relief. But suddenly the captain stopped; then turned again.

"_Caramba_!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "I nearly forgot! _Hombre_! what would His Grace have said?"

He fumbled in an inner pocket and drew forth a telegraphic doc.u.ment.

"_And you will seize the person of one Rosendo Ariza's daughter and immediately send her with proper conveyance to the Sister Superior of the convent of Our Lady in Cartagena_," he read aloud.

Jose froze to the spot. From within Rosendo's house came a soft, scurrying sound. Then he heard a movement in his own. Morales returned the folded message to his pocket and started to enter the house. Jose could offer no resistance. He was rendered suddenly inert, although vividly conscious of a drama about to be enacted in which he and his loved ones would play leading _roles_. As in a dream he heard the captain address Rosendo and gruffly demand that he produce his daughter. He heard a deep curse from Rosendo; and his blood congealed more thickly as he dwelt momentarily on the old man's possible conduct in the face of the federal demand. He heard Morales hunting impatiently through the shabby rooms. Then he saw him emerge in a towering rage--but empty-handed.

"_Caramba_, Padre!" cried the angry captain, "but what is this? Have they not had one good lesson, that I must inflict another? I demand to know, has this Rosendo Ariza a daughter?"

He stood waiting for the answer that Jose knew he must make. The priest's hollow voice sounded like an echo from another world.

"Yes."

"_Bien_, then I have discovered one honest man in yourself, Padre. You will now a.s.sist me in finding her."

"I--I know not--where--where she is, _Senor Capitan_," murmured Jose with feebly fluttering lips.

They were alone, this little party of actors, although many an eye peered out timidly at them from behind closed shutters and barred doors around the _plaza_. Don Jorge and Rosendo came out of the house and stood behind Jose. The captain confronted them, bristling with wrath at the insolence that dared oppose his supreme authority. The heat had already begun to pour down in torrents. The morning air was light, but not a sound traversed it. The princ.i.p.als in this tense drama might have been painted against that vivid tropical background.

Then Harris, moved by his piquant Yankee curiosity, appeared at the door of the parish house, his great eyes protruding and his head craned forth like a monster heron. Morales saw him. "Ha!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps the _Americano_ hides the daughter of Ariza!"

He started for the priest's door. But ere he reached it Reed suddenly appeared from behind Harris. In his hand he grasped a large American flag. Holding this high above his head, he blocked the entrance.

"Hold! _Senor Capitan_!" he cried in his perfect Spanish. "We are American citizens, and this house is under the protection of the American Government!"

Morales fell back and stood with mouth agape in astonishment. The audacity of this foreign adventurer fairly robbed him of his breath.

He glanced dubiously from him to the priest. Then, to save the situation, he broke into an embarra.s.sed laugh.

"_Bien_, my good friend," he finally said, addressing Reed in his courtliest manner, "all respect to your excellent Government. And, if you will accept it, I shall be pleased to secure you a commission in the Colombian army. But, my orders--you understand, do you not? The sun is already high, and I can not lose more time. Therefore, you will kindly stand aside and permit me to search that house." He motioned to his men and moved forward.

Still holding aloft the flag, Reed drew a long revolver. Harris quickly produced one of equal size and wicked appearance. Morales stopped abruptly and looked at them in hesitation. He knew what he might expect. He had heard much of American bravery. His chief delight when not in the field was the perusal of a battered history of the American Civil War; and his exclamations of admiration for the hardihood of those who partic.i.p.ated in it were always loud and frequent. But he, too, had a reputation to sustain. The Americans stood grimly silent before him. Harris's finger twitched nervously along the trigger, and a smile played over his thin lips. The man was aching for a scrimmage.

Then, his face flaming with shame and chagrin, Morales turned to his escort and commanded them to advance.

Up went the two revolvers. A moment more, and--

A cry came from Rosendo's house. Ana, her face swollen with weeping, clasping her sightless babe to her bosom, had emerged and faced the captain.

"Senor," she said in a voice strained to a whisper, "I am the daughter of Rosendo Ariza."

A half-suppressed exclamation burst from the lips of Rosendo. A desperate, suffocating joy surged over the riven soul of the priest.

Don Jorge's mouth opened, but no sound came forth. This precipitate _denouement_ held them rigid with astonishment.

A heavy silence descended upon them all. In the eyes of Jose Ana's tense figure, standing grim and rigid before the captain, took on a dignity that was majestic, a worth that transcended all human computation. A Magdalen, yes, standing with her sin-conceived child clasped in her trembling arms. But this act--G.o.d above! this sacrificial act broke the alabaster box and spread the precious nard over the feet of the pitying Christ.

Morales turned questioningly to Jose. "Is this true, Padre?" he asked.

"It is," murmured the dazed priest, scarce hearing his own words.

"But--I have no orders respecting a child--"

"They cannot be separated," half whispered Jose, not daring to meet the vacant gaze of the babe.

The captain hesitated a moment longer. Then, with an upward glance at the sun, he gave a sharp command to his men. Placing the woman between them, the two soldiers faced about and moved quickly away. With a low bow and a final "_Adios, Senores_," the captain hurriedly joined them.

Ere the little group before Rosendo's house had collected their wits, the soldiers and their frail charge had mounted the hill beyond the old church and disappeared into the matted trail that led from it to the distant river.

Rosendo was the first to break the mesmeric silence. "_Dios arriba_!"

he cried. His knees gave way beneath him and he buried his face in his hands. "Anita--!"

Then he rose hastily, and made as if to pursue the soldiers. Jose and Don Jorge restrained him.

"_Hombre_!" cried Don Jorge, "but it is the hand of Providence! It is better so! Listen, friend Rosendo, it but gives us time to act!

Perhaps many days! When the mistake is discovered they will return, and they will bring her back unharmed--though they may not learn until she reaches Cartagena! _Bien_, we can not waste time in mourning now!

Courage, man! Think--think hard!"

Rosendo strove to unravel his tangled wits. Jose went to him and clasped his big hand.

"Rosendo--friend--would you have it different? I--I alone am to blame that they took Anita! But--it was to save--to save--Ah, G.o.d! if I did wrong, take the American's revolver and shoot me!" He tore open his ca.s.sock and stood rigid before the dazed man. Anguish and soul-torture had warped his features.

"_Caramba_! Enough of such talk!" cried Don Jorge impatiently. "We shall find plenty of others more deserving of shooting, I think! The girl--where is she?"

Reed turned back into the parish house, and emerged a moment later with Carmen and Dona Maria, who knew not as yet of Ana's departure. "I hid them in your bedroom, Padre," Reed explained.

Jose threw him a look of grat.i.tude. "Dona Maria," he cried, "do you take Carmen into your house and await our decision! And you, men, go into my study! It is as Don Jorge says, we must act quickly! Leave your flag hanging, Mr. Reed! It may serve to protect us further against the angry people of Simiti!"

The five men quickly gathered in Jose's living room in a strained, excited group. The priest was the first to speak. Rapidly he related in detail Don Mario's last confession. When he had closed, Reed made reply.