“Come,” said Josè, 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 Josè in a trembling voice, “why have you put this indignity upon our friend, Rosendo? Who orders his arrest?”
“Ask, rather, Señor Padre,” replied the Alcalde, full of wrath, “what alone saves you from the same indignity. Only that you are a priest, Señor Padre, nada más! His arrest is ordered by Padre Diego.”
“And why, if I may beg the favor?” pursued Josè, 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 cárcel.”
“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, Señor 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!”
Josè 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.