At two in the afternoon, an uncovered cart drawn by two oxen stopped in front of the tribunal. It was surrounded, and there were loud threats of breaking it.
“Don’t do that!” cried Capitana Maria; “do you wish them to go on foot?” In a few moments, twenty soldiers came out and surrounded the ox-cart; then the prisoners appeared. The first was Don Filipo, who smiled at his wife. Doray responded by bitter sobs, and would have rushed to her husband, had not the guards held her back. The son of Capitana Tinay was crying like a child, which did not help to check the lamentations of his family. The twins were calm and grave. Ibarra came last. He walked between two guards, his hand free; his eyes sought on all sides for a friendly face.
“He is the guilty one!” cried numerous voices. “He is the guilty one, and his hands are unbound!”
“Bind my arms,” said Ibarra to his guards.
“We have no orders.”
“Bind me!”
The soldiers obeyed.
The alférez appeared on horseback, armed to the teeth, and followed by an escort of soldiers. The prisoners’ friends saluted them with affectionate words; only Ibarra was friendless.
“What has my husband done to you?” sobbed Doray. “See my child; you have robbed him of his father!”
Grief began to turn to hate against the man who was said to have provoked the uprising.