CHAPTER XV.
We halted. As the tidings brought by Francisco deprived the Padre of utterance, I demanded particulars.
It appeared from Francisco’s indignant statement that, subsequently to our departure, when M. le Tisanier, having made his preliminary arrangements for our dinner, had visited the hospitals, and was returning through the village, he was again set upon by the inhabitants. The villagers, taking advantage of the Padre’s absence, surrounded and insulted him, menaced both him and the four prisoners with death, and pelted him with stones, one of which had taken effect, very much to the detriment of his physiognomy. On reaching home, however, he occupied himself as usual, without doing anything to excite suspicion; but, after a while, he sent off Francisco with a message to the “two wounded Spaniards” at the convent, and with directions to await their further instructions. After being detained a couple of hours, which he spent in the study of English, under the tuition of the convalescent soldiers, with whom Francisco was popular, the two Spaniards merely gave him directions to go home again, and he returned to the house.
On entering the kitchen, he was surprised to see what to all appearance was a dinner ready-cooked, arranged on a tray, and under covers. M. le Tisanier, pointing to the tray, bade him carry it to the Alcalde’s, with a message that he himself would be there immediately. The Alcalde was from home; and Francisco, on coming out after leaving the tray, beheld in the street a spectacle which, as he elegantly expressed himself, “revolved his interior” (revolvió-me las tripas). Close at hand appeared, all bearing their muskets and fully accoutred, the four French soldiers, headed by M. le Tisanier, who marched en militaire, with his drawn sword sloped on his shoulder. This armed party, compelling him to return with them, entered the Alcalde’s house, demanded all the arms on the premises, obtained a gun, a blunderbuss, a pair of Spanish rapiers, and a quantity of ammunition. They then, leaving behind them a basket which contained several bottles of the Padre’s wine, went back to the house, which immediately on their entering they barricaded, leaving the astonished Francisco in the street.
The villagers noticed these proceedings with consternation, but had been taken by surprise, and were overawed by the military display. After the closing of the house, they assembled tumultuously in the street, and meditated all sorts of things. But M. le Tisanier, appearing at the window of an entresuelo (a closet or small chamber half-way up-stairs), warned them to disperse if they did not wish to be fired upon; an admonition which they were the more readily induced to follow by a bullet that whistled over their heads. They then withdrew to their huts, anxiously watching the closed house, in which no movement was discernible, and expecting with much palpitation the Padre’s return.
Francisco, recovering from his first surprise, had started off, he told us, in search of the Padre and me; but not knowing which way we had taken, assuming that we had followed our usual direction towards the shooting-ground, and being too much confused to make inquiries, he had covered a great deal of ground to no purpose, and had not got back to the village till a short time before our return.
“Santiago de Compostella!” gasped the Padre, at length recovering partially his senses and his breath, and dashing his bonnet on the ground. “For which of my many sins was I withheld from cutting that hangdog’s throat the first moment that I set eyes on him! Santiago! Trecientos mil diablos!”
“Compose yourself, Señor Padre,” said I. “At least wait till we see how things look, and till we can judge for ourselves. If the Doctor has been menaced and assaulted, what wonder that he should place himself in security till our return? The business, according to my view of it, is not so serious as you appear to think.”
“Ah!” said the Padre, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, “you are very kind. I totally forgot what I had just told you—that, with the exception of the wine, I had sent off all our stores to Vittoria.—Oh no! I mistake! Three dozen Lamego hams! Beautiful!—delicate! The choicest rarity in these parts! Oh, my Lamego hams! To think that the poor provision for my self-denying, self-mortifying, exemplary brethren should go to feed those hounds of Frenchmen!”
“Never mind,” I replied, still striving to tranquillise his agitated feelings; “should the worst come to the worst, we’ll have them out of that long before they finish your hams. But not to lose time, suppose I just step forward, and try the effects of a parley.”