"Why did you fix on Havana for the wedding?"
Walthew laughed.
"My people will see there is no use in kicking when I take my wife home; and they've only to give Blanca a fair show to get fond of her. Then there are a number of Americans in Havana, and I can get the thing properly registered and fixed up by our consul. Don Martin agreed." He paused a minute and added: "Don Martin's going to address the citizens in the plaza at six o'clock, and I think he'd like you and Cliffe to be there."
Grahame promised to ask Cliffe; and soon after dinner he found that a place had been kept for his party on the broad steps of the church of San Sebastian. The air was cooling and dusk was near, but the light had not gone, and the square was packed with an expectant crowd, except where a space was kept. The lower steps were occupied by officials and leading citizens, but the two highest were empty.
For a few minutes there was deep silence, and nobody moved in the crowded plaza. Then a murmur rose as the leather curtain across the door was drawn back and Don Martin came out, with three priests in their robes behind him. He stood bareheaded on the second step, very straight and soldierlike, but plainly dressed in white, with no sash or badge of office; the priests standing above, with Father Agustin's tall figure in the middle. As he turned his face toward the crowd a great shout went up:
"Viva Sarmiento! Viva el libertador!"
Don Martin bowed, but did not speak; and a bugle call rang across the square and was followed by a measured tramp of feet. Men marching in loose fours swung out of a shadowy opening and advanced upon the church. A red sash round the waist with the ends left hanging loose was the only uniform they wore, and Grahame felt a curious, emotional quiver as he recognized the detachment he had led. He understood that the best of them had been enrolled for a time as a national guard. Their brown faces were impassive as they filled the open space, but after they swung into double line, instead of the conventional salute, they waved their ragged hats, and a roar broke out:
"Viva Sarmiento! Viva el maestro!"
Then some of the group looked anxious, and there was a stir in the crowd as an officer approached the steps. He had his pistol drawn, but he lowered it, and stood opposite Don Martin with his hat off.
"Your comrades salute you, señor," he said. "You have led us to victory, and if you have fresh orders for us, we obey you still."