Senhor Jorge made his inquiries in person. On an October afternoon, just after the heavier labors of the vintage were ended, he called upon Antonio and asked him to sign a petition for the replacement of a bridge which had been swept away on the terrible night of Antonio's fight with José. The monk received his visitor with honor and without suspicion. He knew him as an estimable lavrador, or large farmer: but he had never heard of Margarida. Outside his church-going, Antonio had no dealings with the village.
When the monk had subscribed his name of da Rocha to the petition, the lavrador thanked him and rolled it up.
"Not that it will do any good," he added. "In this parish we've never learned to crawl up the sleeves of politicians. Ah! When the last politician is dead, Portugal will come to life again."
Antonio said nothing. But Senhor Jorge did not desist. To catechise a stranger about his political opinions was always a breach of good manners, and in Portugal it was still dangerous. Nevertheless the lavrador continued:
"Senhor, everybody says you are a clever man. You have been in England and France and Spain and, some say, in Brazil. You have seen many things. I am not a Miguelista; but I want to know if we are any better off under the Liberals."
Antonio took time to think. When he had decided that there was nothing to lose by frankness he said:
"Your Worship is older than I, and far wiser. But here is my answer. I, too, am no Miguelista. If Liberalism truly meant equal freedom and justice for all, I should be a Liberal. But Liberalism in Portugal is only a name. Your Worship speaks of England and France. I have traveled in those countries. One frosty morning, two hundred years ago, the English cut off their King's head with a sharp axe in the name of Liberty: but the Englishmen who did that deed equaled the king before long in oppression and intolerance. Fifty years ago, in the name of Liberty, some Frenchmen guillotined the King of France: but I have seen a French river where, a few months afterwards, the men who did that deed drowned barge-load after barge-load of those who held other opinions. Yes, your Worship. In a single town, in four months, nearly ten thousand were shot or drowned—more than the tyrant Miguel put to death in all Portugal, in all his unhappy career."
"Then the Senhor does not believe in Republics?" asked the lavrador.
"If all our citizens were good and wise and in possession of the whole truth," answered Antonio, "a Republic would be the best form of government. But the Portuguese are no more fit than the French for such an experiment. Nay, I will go further. The Portuguese are not ripe even for the English kind of Parliament. Our deputies are not the true choice of the people. They fill their pockets with the people's money; and their empty quarrels poison the nation's blood. But I have said too much. After all, what do I know of politics? I leave politics alone, and..."
He weighed his words. When he uttered them, they came softly and slowly.