“It is genuine,” she said. “It is printed at the palace press.”
“I believe it to be genuine,” Don Inocencio said.
Donna Emilia crossed herself for the third time: she spoke with some difficulty.
“Did you say, Inocencio, that you rejoice at this proclamation?”
“I do,” he said, “sincerely, Emilia, I do. We have been for far too long apathetic: now this outrage will rouse us from sleep: it may be our salvation as a nation. We ourselves are in some measure responsible for this madness. We have connived at madness in the palace too long: he takes advantage of our supineness to seize us by the throats. Now there can be but one answer.”
“Surely,” Donna Emilia said, “a vengeance of Heaven will fall upon a man like that.”
“Our Caligula will not long survive his decree,” Don Inocencio said. “Our old days of the Blancos will begin again.”
“What will people do?” Hi asked.
“They will do much,” Don Inocencio said. “For a beginning, the priests are already leading their young men to tear down these placards. In the New Town, a priest known to me was gathering the fraternity of his parish as I passed by on my way here. The week will see Don Lopez out of his palace.”
“I wonder,” Rosa said.