“Catch him!”
“No! bring a barra!”
Juan quickly produced a long iron bar, and with a few lusty efforts sprung the stocks. A dozen hands lifted the cramped Rosendo out and stood him upon his feet. Carmen squirmed through the crowd and threw herself into his arms.
Then, with shouts and gesticulations, a triumphal procession quickly formed, and the bewildered and limping Rosendo was escorted down the main street of the town and across the plaza to his home. At the door of the house Josè turned and, holding up a hand, bade the people quietly disperse and leave the liberated man to enjoy undisturbed the sacred reunion with his family. With a parting shout, the people melted quickly away, and quiet soon reigned again over the ancient town.
“Bien, Padre,” said Rosendo, pausing before his door to clasp anew the priest’s hand, “you have not told me what has caused this. Was it the little Carmen––”
He stopped short. Glancing in at the door, his eyes had fallen upon Ana. To Josè, hours seemed suddenly compressed into that tense moment.
Slowly Rosendo entered the house and advanced to the shrinking woman. Terror spread over her face, and she clutched her throat as the big man stalked toward her. Then, like a flash, Carmen darted in front of her and faced Rosendo.
“It is Anita, padre dear,” she said, looking up into his set face, and clasping his hand in both of hers. “She has come home again. Aren’t we glad!”
Rosendo seemed not to see the child. His voice came cold and harsh. “Bien, outcast, is your lover with you, that I may strangle him, too?” He choked and swallowed hard.
“Padre!” cried Carmen, putting both her hands against him. “See! Those bad thoughts nearly strangled you! Don’t let them get in! Don’t!”