An American Part 2

The liberated prisoner, although he, too, was weak and worn as all of his companions were, yet rushed with rapid strides from side to side of the excited mob whose clamor, now released, quite filled the prado with vociferous shouts of joy, until he seemed to find the object of his hasty search, for, when he came to where Estrella lay supported by her little friend upon a hastily constructed bed of straw and gra.s.s, he stooped above her anxiously and leaned to look within her face, but, when her wide and terror-stricken eyes looked into his, he turned away as if he had not found the one he was in search of after all.

Estrella raised herself upon one elbow and rested on the ready shoulder of her little friend while she gazed after his retreating form with an eagerness not unmixed with sudden fear; it seemed as if the girl were fascinated by him, and, yet, dreaded his approach, for she did not even speak to him although she knew that he had been one of those whom they had come to liberate and had looked forward to greeting him when he should be released.

But the horror that had been thrust upon her at the very entrance of that dark and gloomy prison had quite unnerved her and had made her shrink from any contact with the prisoners who, now, came trooping out and mingled with the crowd by which they were soon, as it seemed, absorbed.

Then, suddenly, a trumpet blast rang through the wide and s.p.a.cious prado and a company of mounted cavalry, with naked swords uplifted, rode madly in among the crowd and scattered it as chaff is scattered by a furious wind ... cries of agony were heard as some were trampled by the horses, tortured by the cruel spurs which their infuriated riders were driving into their tender skins, and many men and women fell into disordered heaps of human misery in wildly scrambling toward a place of temporary safety.

The soldiers gave no quarter to the fleeing ma.s.ses of the people but kept driving all of them who stood upon their feet at all toward the open streets of the little village that led out of the prado, ordering them to cease from disturbing the peace and calling upon them in the name of the young King, Alfonso XIII, to disperse at once and to return to their homes in the village without delay.

The most of those within the prado had been driven out before the commanding officer of the soldiers noticed that the prison doors were open, even then, at first he did not perceive just what the crowd had been collected for, or he might have given other orders than he had.

When he beheld the broken doors he marvelled greatly, for this was an unlooked-for and unprecedented method of liberating political prisoners in San Domingo and the commanding officer did not know just what action to take in the matter but felt that he must wait for further orders from his superiors in command before taking any drastic steps to quell the evident uprising of public opinion.

Father Felix had seen the soldiers as they dashed into the prado and he hastened outside the prison intending to meet them and hold some colloquy with their leader, but, when he had reached the centre of the prado the soldiers were driving the crowd out at the farther end of the enclosure, so that, instead of meeting the leader of the soldiery he came upon his own people as they lay in disordered heaps or staggered to their feet.

Observing Estrella and Tessa crouched back against a wall as far away from the soldiers as they could manage to put themselves, he approached them and asked them what they knew about this new phase of the tumultuous doings of the day.

The two girls greeted him joyfully for they had had their fill of horror and welcomed the Priest who represented to them the sanct.i.ty of the church:

"Father Felix," cried the little Tessa, "tell us what we are to do next and where we are to go and what we are to do when we get there, for we are dreadfully upset and poor Estrella has had a terrible shock and is still weakened from her fainting fit, while I am just as I have been right along ... scared half to death."

The good Priest stopped beside the girls long enough to tell them to quietly go to their own homes and stay indoors until morning, then he pa.s.sed on to the other groups, and, where he could do so, a.s.sisted them to leave the prado, preparatory to seeking their own places of abode where he advised them all to remain if possible without molestation from the authorities.

When Father Felix had reached the little cl.u.s.ter of people surrounding the liberated prisoner whom we have mentioned before, he came to a halt, and, beckoning the young man referred to to follow him, he pa.s.sed on out of ear-shot of the rest and said to him:

"I wish that you would explain to me how it happens that Estrella is in need of help and you, although free, are not by her side. How does it happen, Manuello, that your half-sister has only her little friend, Tessa, to lean upon, while your strong arms are without a burden?"

The young fellow hung his head as if ashamed, for a moment, before he answered Father Felix, and seemed to ponder deeply over his reply to the good Priest's intimate question:

"I can tell you about that in a very few words, Father," he at length summoned courage to say, "I have only within the past few most delightful moments been freed from a loathesome dungeon and have been receiving the felicitations of some of my friends on my fortunate escape. I did not realize that Estrella needed my services ... if so, of course I will at once offer them to her."

Bowing low before Father Felix, he put his right hand to his head as if to doff its covering, but, finding it bare except for his thick mop of dishevelled brown hair, he smiled, instead, and, suiting his actions to his words, approached the two girls who still remained where Father Felix had left them as if afraid to move:

"Allow me!" he cried, gayly, extending one strong arm to each of the maidens, "Accept my escort to whatever place you desire to go!"

Estrella seemed to take no notice of the offered arm, but Tessa eagerly laid hold of the proffered protection and snuggled her small person against the tall figure of the young fellow who turned to her companion as if to discover the cause of her apparent coolness.

"Why so silent, fair Lady?" he inquired, "Have you no congratulations to offer me upon my recent harrowing experience and subsequent and most fortunate escape?"

Estrella did not answer him at first, but gazed intently into his eager face as if to read there the inner motives that prompted his lightly-spoken words.

After she had looked into his face for a few seconds of earnest scrutiny, she said to him:

"Manuello, why did you not speak to me when we first met after your liberation from the prison? Why have you spent the time since then among the others instead of looking after my interests? Have you ceased to care for me during your incarceration? What have I done to deserve such treatment from you? Have I not treated you as a sister should? In what way have I offended you, Manuello?"

As she uttered these words her fair face flushed with the tide of deep emotion that swept over it and her blue eyes grew dark and full of feeling. She placed one of her hands on his arm, lightly, but held herself aloof from contact with his person.

He recognized this att.i.tude of hers by standing a little more erectly and holding the arm on which her hand had been laid, stiffly extended a little from his body:

"How suddenly affectionate you have become, my soft and yielding sister!

It seems to me that I remember how earnestly you plead with me to cease embracing you whenever opportunity was afforded to me, before I went to prison for my sins.... I think you are the girl who used to say to me 'please, Manuello, don't hold my hand so tightly! You are too rough!' I do not wish to be considered rough by any woman, and, so, I am more cautious in approaching your sacred person, now that I have had time to reflect upon your many words."

"How can you speak so to her, Manuello," exclaimed the dark-skinned Tessa, "now that you are free once more? Poor Estrella has had a most terrible experience, here, tonight ... you ought to comfort instead of scolding her."

The tender-hearted little girl looked up at the big man reproachfully and reached around his back to pat Estrella's shoulder, but he only stalked along between the two girls, sullenly and almost silently.

At length, they reached the little cottage where Estrella and her family lived and Tessa ran along a little further to her own home while Manuello and his half-sister entered their own dwelling.

It happened that they were alone, at first, as the other members of the little family had not yet returned from the prado, and, in that interval of time, considerable was said and done by both of them.

"Manuello," said the girl, putting one hand on each of his broad shoulders, "have you no pity for me, now that Victorio is dead? You must have seen his poor, mangled body lying there at the entrance of the prison, Manuello ... can you tell how he came to die just as he and all the rest were about to be released from prison?"

Her tear-stained face was very near to his and his own lips began to tremble before he mustered courage to answer her:

"Of course, I'm sorry for you, Estrella," he began haltingly and slow, "of course I pity you as well as any other woman whose lover's newly dead. As to how he happened to be killed ... why, I guess you will never know just what did happen in that prison when those battering rams began to rock it by their impact ... I am certain that I cannot give you much explanation as I, myself, was one of those who suffered, although you do not seem concerned as to that in any way."

"You escaped alive, Manuello, and poor Victorio did not for his poor head was almost severed from his body ..." said Estrella, weeping violently, with deep-drawn sobs of agony, "I lifted him and tried to hold his head upon my lap ... oh, Manuello," she continued, clinging to him involuntarily, "it was very terrible!"

Her sufferings seemed to move him for he put his arms about her shoulders and drew her head forward until it rested on his broad and palpitating breast:

"Poor little girl!" he murmured, softly, stroking her fair hair, "Poor little Estrella! I _am_ sorry for you ... I _do_ pity you, though why you chose Victorio for your lover was always beyond my comprehension."

CHAPTER III

When Father Felix left the prado he went directly to the church where he officiated, and, thence, into the small refectory behind it; here, he removed the flowing vestments he had worn when engaged in the enterprise which we have described in a previous chapter of this book, and a.s.sumed a more conventional and handy garb for he had work to do that would require all the strength of his arms and all the muscles of his broad back; he had set himself a task that was never meant for priestly hands to do, and, in the doing of it, he would need all the strength that years of careful living and an inherited and bounding health had bestowed upon him.

He, at once, began preparations for the work he had to do, and, to begin with, he adjusted the heavy cross which he always wore about his neck so that it would hang exactly in front of him and not over-balance his body by being on one side or the other; this cross had been a relic much prized by him of an old Priest with whom he had studied and whose sainted memory he revered almost as much as that of the saints whom he had been taught to wors.h.i.+p along with the Virgin Mary and The Babe of Bethlehem; then, he put on next to his skin a hair-cloth s.h.i.+rt so constructed as not to scratch and yet to be very warm; over this he placed a heavy riding-coat which had been given to him by one of those who attended the services he conducted in the church; these garments, together with heavy breeches and warm, woolen stockings worn under heavy boots, completed, with the addition of a broad-brimmed hat, a disguise that would deceive almost any person who was acquainted with his ordinary appearance.

Having clothed himself to his own satisfaction, he took a heavy stick he had handy in his strong right hand and proceeded to leave the vicinity where he was accustomed, at all hours, to be found, and, stealthily and quietly, exercising all the precaution of which he was capable, he proceeded up the street that ran behind the little church with as much of haste as was consistent with the object of his journey.

When he had gone about two blocks from the church he turned sharply to his left and proceeded about as far again up the street that led away from the village, then, turning again to his left, he walked briskly for another block or two, when he came to a sharp turn and paused as if in doubt as to just which turn to take, when, suddenly, as if from the ground at his feet, he heard a low voice addressing him in no uncertain language:

"Turn toward the right side of this street," whispered the voice, "take the right-hand side of this street and then turn again toward the left when you have gone for two more blocks toward the right. You will find the object of your search has been in waiting for you for some hours and is now growing impatient ... so make all possible haste, good Father Felix ... make all possible haste for she is sore pressed with fatigue and fear."

When the voice had ceased speaking to him, Father Felix followed the direction it gave him, implicitly, and found, indeed, as it had a.s.sured him, the object of the night-journey he had just made, waiting for him with great impatience, coupled with much fear and dread of consequences; he hastened to rea.s.sure her as soon as he reached her side by saying softly to her:

"Be of good cheer, dear Madam. The work that you commissioned me to do has been well done and all of the prisoners excepting one are now at liberty. Unfortunately, one of our friends lost his life just before the wide doors of the prison were burst open ... no one seems to know how this came about, but we found his dead body across the very entrance as if, indeed, he had been about to join our ranks outside when death overtook and stopped him."

"Which of the prisoners was killed?" asked the woman who had been waiting there for his coming, eagerly and apprehensively.

"I do not suppose that you were acquainted with the young fellow ..."

answered the good Father Felix, soothingly, "he was called Victorio Colenzo ... he was the lover of a girl I know very well and she was with the crowd, who followed me; she dashed into the entrance of the prison and held his head, which had been almost severed from its body, in her lap until she fainted and became mercifully unconscious of her horrible surroundings ... the poor girl was almost crazed with agony and regret, for she had flouted him to some extent because of his revolutionary sentiments...."

He had gotten that far in his narrative little thinking of the intense interest it had for the woman listening to it, until he happened to look earnestly at her when he saw, in an instant, that it held for her great personal appeal; he stopped at that knowledge and waited for her to explain the situation if so be she wished to do so; at length, between low-drawn sobs, she said, falteringly: