The glow of dawn had scarce begun to creep timidly across 255 the arch of heaven when Fernando knocked at the portal of Rosendo’s house and demanded the custody of Carmen. Josè was already abroad.
“And now, Fernando,” demanded the priest, “what new outrage is this?”
The constable flushed with embarrassment. “Na, Padre, a thousand pardons––but it is the order of the Alcalde, and I only obey. But––you may knock me down,” he added eagerly, “and then I can return to him and say that I could not take the girl, even by force!” The honest fellow, ashamed of his mission, hung his head. Josè seized his hand.
“Fernando!” he cried, “what say the people of Simití?”
“They are with you, Padre. They would demand Rosendo’s release, if there were proof that the girl––”
“Good, then! we have the proof,” broke in Josè. “Rosendo knows of our return?”
“Yes, the guard informed him this morning. The Alcalde, you know, permits no one to approach the prisoner.”
“And does he know that Ana is here?”
“The guard did not tell him, for fear of exciting the old man. Hombre! I think there is no one in town who would venture to tell Rosendo that.”