Carmen Ariza Part 68

"Senores," he said with much dignity, as if the majesty of his little office weighed upon him, "I am commanded by Senor, the Alcalde, to exercise the authority reposing in him and place Don Rosendo Ariza under arrest. You will at once accompany me to the _carcel_," he added, going up to the astonished Rosendo and laying a hand upon his shoulder.

"Arrest! Me! _Hombre_! what have I done?" cried the old man, stepping back.

"_Bien_, _amigo_, I do not find it my duty to tell you. The Senor Alcalde hands me the doc.u.ment and commands me to execute it. As for the cause--_Bien_, you must ask him."

"Come," said Jose, the first to recover from his astonishment, "let us go to him at once." He at any rate had now an opportunity to confront Don Mario and learn what plans the man had been devising these many months.

The Alcalde received the men in his little _patio_, scowling and menacing. He offered them no greeting when they confronted him.

"Don Mario," asked Jose in a trembling voice, "why have you put this indignity upon our friend, Rosendo? Who orders his arrest?"

"Ask, rather, _Senor Padre_," replied the Alcalde, full of wrath, "what alone saves you from the same indignity. Only that you are a priest, _Senor Padre_, _nada mas_! His arrest is ordered by Padre Diego."

"And why, if I may beg the favor?" pursued Jose, though he well knew the sordid motive.

"Why? _Caramba_! Why lay the hands of the law upon those who deprive a suffering father of his child! _Bien_, _Fernando_," turning to the constable, "you have done well. Take your prisoner to the _carcel_."

"No!" cried Rosendo, drawing back. "No, Don Mario, I will not go to the jail! I will--"

"_Caramba!_" shouted the Alcalde, his face purple. "I set your trial for to-morrow, in the early morning. But this night you will spend in the jail! _Hombre!_ I will see if I am not Alcalde here! And look you, _Senor Padre_, if there is any disturbance, I will send for the government soldiers! Then they will take Rosendo to the prison in Cartagena! And that finishes him!"

Jose knew that, if Diego had the support of the Bishop, this was no idle threat. Rosendo turned to him in helpless appeal. "What shall I do, Padre?" he asked.

"It is best that you go to the jail to-night, Rosendo," said Jose with sinking heart. "But, Don Mario," turning menacingly to the Alcalde, "mark you, his trial takes place in the morning, and he shall be judged, not by you alone, but by his fellow-townsmen!"

"Have I not said so, senor?" returned Don Mario curtly, with a note of deep contempt in his voice.

As in most small Spanish towns, the jail was a rude adobe hut, with no furnishings, save the wooden stocks into which the feet of the hapless prisoners were secured. Thus confined, the luckless wight who chanced to feel the law's heavy hand might sit in a torturing position for days, cruelly tormented at night by ravenous mosquitoes, and wholly dependent upon the charity of the townsfolk for his daily rations, unless he have friends or family to supply his needs. In the present instance Don Mario took the extra precaution of setting a guard over his important prisoner.

Jose, benumbed by the shock and bewildered by the sudden precipitation of events, accompanied Rosendo to the jail and mutely watched the procedure as Fernando secured the old man's bare feet in the rude stocks. And yet, despite the situation, he could not repress a sense of the ridiculous, as his thought dwelt momentarily on the little _opera bouffe_ which these child-like people were so continually enacting in their attempts at self-government. But it was a play that at times approached dangerously near to the tragic. The pa.s.sions of this Latin offshoot were strong, if their minds were dull and lethargic, and when aroused were capable of the most despicable, as well as the most grandly heroic deeds. And in the present instance, when the fleeting sense of the absurd pa.s.sed, Jose knew that he was facing a crisis. Something told him that resistance now would be useless. True, Rosendo might have opposed arrest with violence, and perhaps have escaped. But that would have accomplished nothing for Carmen, the pivot upon which events were turning. Jose had reasoned that it were better to let the Alcalde play his hand first, in the small hope that as the cards fell he might more than match his opponent's strength with his own.

"_Na_, Padre, do not worry," said Rosendo rea.s.suringly. "It is for her sake; and we shall have to know, as she does, that everything will come out right. My friends will set me free to-morrow, when the trial takes place. And then"--he drew the priest down to him and whispered low--"we will leave Simiti and take to the mountains."

Jose bent his heavy steps homeward. Arriving at Rosendo's house, he saw the little living room crowded with sympathetic friends who had come to condole with Dona Maria. That placid woman, however, had not lost in any degree her wonted calm, even though her companions held forth with much impa.s.sioned declamation against the indignity which had been heaped upon her worthy consort. He looked about for Carmen.

She was not with her foster-mother, nor did his inquiry reveal her whereabouts. He smiled sadly, as he thought of her out on the shales, her customary refuge when storms broke. He started in search of her; but as he pa.s.sed through the _plaza_ Manuela Cortez met him. "Padre,"

she exclaimed, "is the little Carmen to go to jail, too?"

Jose stopped short. "Manuela--why do you say that?" he asked hurriedly, his heart starting to beat like a trip-hammer.

"Because, Padre, I saw the constable, Fernando, take her into Don Mario's house some time ago."

Jose uttered an exclamation and started for the house of the Alcalde.

Don Mario stood at the door, his huge bulk denying the priest admission.

"Don Mario!" panted Jose. "Carmen--you have her here?"

Fernando, who had been sitting just within the door, rose and came to his chief's side. Jose felt his brain whirling. Fernando stepped outside and took his arm. The Alcalde's unlovely face expanded in a sinister leer. "It is permissible to place even a priest in the stocks, if he becomes _loco_," he said significantly.

Jose tightened his grip upon himself. Fernando spoke quickly:

"It was necessary to take the girl in custody, too, Padre. But do not worry; she is safe."

"But--you have no right to take her--"

"There, _Senor Padre_, calm yourself. What right had you to separate her from her father?"

"Diego is not her father! He lies! And, Don Mario, you have no authority but his--"

"You mistake, _Senor Padre_," calmly interrupted the Alcalde. "I have a much higher authority."

Jose stared dully at him. "Whose, then?" he muttered, scarce hearing his own words.

"The Bishop's, _Senor Padre_," answered Don Mario, with a cruel grin.

"The Bishop! But--the old man--"

"_Na_, _Senor Padre_, but the Bishop is fairly young, you know. That is, the new one--"

"The new one!" cried the uncomprehending Jose.

"To be sure, _Senor Padre_, the new Bishop--formerly Senor Don Wenceslas Ortiz."

Jose beat the air feebly as his hand sought his damp brow. His confused brain became suddenly stagnant.

"_Bien_, _Senor Padre_," put in Fernando gently, pitying the priest's agony. "You had not heard the news. Don Mario received letters to-day.

The old Bishop of Cartagena died suddenly some days ago, and Don Wenceslas at once received the temporary appointment, until the vacancy can be permanently filled. There is talk of making Cartagena an archbishopric, and so a new bishop will not be appointed until that question is settled. Meanwhile, Don Wenceslas administers the affairs of the Church there."

"And he--he--" stammered the stunned priest.

"To be sure, _Senor Padre_," interrupted Don Mario, laughing aloud; "the good Don Wenceslas no doubt has learned of the beautiful Carmen, and he cannot permit her to waste her loveliness in so dreary a place as Simiti. And so he summons her to Cartagena, in care of his agent, Padre Diego, who awaits the girl now in Banco to conduct her safely down the river. At least, this is what Padre Diego writes me. _Bien_, it is the making of the girl, to be so favored by His Grace!"

Jose staggered and would have fallen, had not Fernando supported him.

Don Mario turned into his house. But as he went he spitefully hurled back:

"_Bien_, _Senor Padre_, whom have you to blame but yourself? You keep a child from her suffering father--you give all your time to her, neglecting the other poor children of your parish--you send Rosendo into the mountains to search for La Libertad--you break your agreement with me, for you long ago said that we should work together--is it not so? You find gold in the mountains, but you do not tell me. _Na_, you work against me--you oppose my authority as Alcalde--_Bien_, you opposed even the authority of the good Bishop--may he rest with the Saints! You have not made a good priest for Simiti, _Senor Padre_--_na_, you have made a very bad one! And now you wonder that the good Don Wenceslas takes the girl from you, to bring her up in the right way. _Caramba_! if it is not already too late to save her from your bad teachings!" His voice steadily rose while he talked, and ended in a shrill pipe.

Jose made as if to reach him; but Fernando held him back. The Alcalde got quickly within the house and secured the door. "Go now to your home, Padre," urged Fernando; "else I shall call help and put you in the stocks, too!"

"But I will enter that house! I will take the child from him!" shouted Jose desperately, struggling to gain the Alcalde's door.

"Listen to me, Padre!" cried Fernando, holding to the frenzied man.

"The little Carmen--she is not in there!"

"Not--in--there! Then where is she, Fernando?--for G.o.d's sake tell me!" appealed the stricken priest. Great beads of perspiration stood upon his face, and tears rolled down his drawn cheeks.

Fernando could not but pity him. "_Bien_, Padre," he said gently; "come away. I give you my word that the girl is not in the house of the Alcalde. But I am not permitted to say where she is."

"Then I will search every house in Simiti!" cried the priest wildly.