For Don Jorge had met the Alcalde in Juncal, and had roundly jeered him for his cowardly flight. He cited Josè and Rosendo as examples of valor, and pointed out that the Alcalde greatly resembled a captain who fled at the smell of gunpowder. Don Mario swelled with indignation and shame. His spleen worked particularly against Rosendo and the priest. Come what might, it was time Diego and his superiors in Cartagena knew what was going on in the parish of Simití!
A few days later an unctuous letter came to Josè from Diego, requesting that Carmen be sent to him at once, as he now desired to place her in a convent and thus supplement the religious education which he was sure Josè had so well begun in her. The priest had scarcely read the letter when Don Mario appeared at the parish house.
“Bien, Padre,” he began smoothly, but without concealing the malice which lurked beneath his oily words, “Padre Diego sends for the little Carmen, and bids me arrange to have her conveyed at once to Banco. I think Juan will take her down, is it not so?”
Josè looked him squarely in the eyes. “No, señor,” he said in a voice that trembled with agitation, “it is not so!”
“Hombre!” exclaimed Don Mario, swelling with suppressed rage. “You refuse to give Diego his own child?”
“No, señor, but I refuse to give him a child that is not his.”
“Caramba! but she is––he has the proofs! And I shall send her to him this day!”
The Alcalde shrilled forth his rage like a ruffled parrot. Josè seized him by the shoulders and, turning him swiftly about, pushed him out into the road. He then entered the rear door of Rosendo’s house and bade Doña Maria keep the child close to her.
A few minutes later Fernando Perez appeared at Josè’s door. He was municipal clerk, secretary, and constable of Simití, all in one. He saluted the priest gravely, and demanded the body of the child Carmen, to be returned to her proper father.