“This is my present,” said he, giving the despatch to Maria Clara. “I’m to build a school in the pueblo; the school is my offering.” And the young fellow ran back to his game of chess.
After making this present to his fiancée, Ibarra was so happy that he played without reflection, and, thanks to his many false moves, the captain re-established himself, and the game was a draw. The two men shook hands with effusion.
While they were thus making an end of the long and tedious suit, the sudden appearance of a sergeant and four armed guards, bayonets fixed, broke rudely in upon the merry-makers.
“Whoever stirs is a dead man!” cried the sergeant.
In spite of this bluster, Ibarra went up to him and asked what he wanted.
“We want a criminal named Elias, who was your helmsman this morning,” replied the officer, still threatening.
“A criminal? The helmsman? You must be mistaken.”
“No, señor, this Elias is accused of having raised his hand against a priest. You admit questionable people to your fêtes.”
Ibarra looked him over from head to foot and replied with great coldness.
“I am in no way accountable to you for my actions. Every one is welcome at my fêtes.” And he turned away.