The people drew apart in little groups to discuss the matter. Don Mario’s beady eyes searched them, until he was certain of the way the tide was flowing. Then he rose and called for order.
“Bueno, amigos y amigas,” he began with immense dignity; “what say you if we sum up the case as follows: The proofs have the support of the Bishop, and show that the girl is the daughter of Padre Diego. Rosendo is guilty of having kept her from her own father, and for that he should be severely punished. Let him be confined in the jail for six months, and be forced to pay to us a fine of one thousand pesos oro––”
“Caramba! but he has no such sum,” cried the people with mouths agape.
“Bien, I say he can get it!” retorted the Alcalde, looking meaningly at Josè. “And he should pay it for depriving the child of a father’s love and the religious instruction which he would have given her!”
Josè jumped to his feet. “Friends!” he cried, playing his last card. “Will you not remember that more than that amount is due Rosendo for the care of the child? Who will repay him?”
The whimsical, fickle people broke into excited exclamations.
“Cierto!”
“The Cura is right!”
“Let Rosendo pay no fine––he has no gold, anyway!”
“Cut down the sentence, Don Mario. We do not like this!”