The President, however, might have added that every Republican officer was advised first to test any warning on any bit of parchment signed “Benito Juarez.” Yet, as a matter of fact, there came to be such magic in the name of El Chaparrito that the name of Juarez thereto was only needed as a guarantee that the lesser name was genuine.
“Now, then, Señor Emissary,” said the President, “what danger hangs over our Republic this time?”
“None, señor. I return the parchment squares left over. El–El Chaparrito has no more thoughts for the Republic. He thinks,” and Murguía ground his knuckles into the desk top, “he thinks of no one, of no one–except Maximilian! And he has never thought of aught else. The Republic? Bah, the Republic was only his tool, Señor Presidente. Only his tool, but the tool needed sharpening. They say that’s the way with the guillotine, eh, Señor Presidente?”
“But hombre–No, our unseen friend of the Republic, our Chaparrito, would not ask for Maximilian’s pardon?”
“Pardon!”–It was fairly a cry of rage–“Yet you, Señor Presidente, you postpone the execution! You mean to pardon him!”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, I–I think so. But you shall not, Señor Presidente. I come to, to––”
453“Now that’s curious. Possibly I, too, am to be sharpened into a kind of guillotine, eh, señor?”
“All the others were,” Murguía returned stubbornly. “That is, all except one.”
“Ha, then El Chaparrito found one man who was incorruptible?”