“You are made a prisoner in the name of the King!” said the sergeant.
“What for?”
“They will tell you later. We are prohibited from saying a word.”
The young man reflected a moment and not wishing, perhaps, the soldiers to discover his preparations for flight, he took his hat and said:
“I am at your disposal. I suppose it will be only for a short time.”
“If you promise not to escape, we will not handcuff you. The alferez grants this favor, but if you flee——”
Ibarra followed, leaving the servants in consternation.
In the meantime, what had become of Elias?
On leaving Crisostomo’s house, like a madman, he ran about without knowing where. He crossed fields, and in violent agitation arrived at a forest. He was fleeing from people, and from light. The moon troubled him and he entered the mysterious shade of the forest. Sometimes stopping, sometimes following unbroken paths, leaning upon century-old trunks, entangled in the briars, he looked toward the town, which lay at his feet bathed in the light of the moon, stretching itself out on the plain, lying on the shore of the lake. Birds, disturbed in their sleep, flew away. Owls screeched and flew from one limb to another. But Elias neither heard nor saw them. He thought he was being followed by the infuriated shades of his ancestors. He saw the horrible basket hanging from every branch with the blood-covered head of Bálat, just as his father had described it to him. He thought he saw the dead body of his grandmother lying at the foot of every tree. He seemed to see the skeleton of his dishonored grandfather in the darkness, and the skeleton, the old woman, and the head all cried out to him, “Coward! Coward!”
He left the mountain and fled down toward the sea. He ran along the beach in agitation. But there in the distance, amid the waves, where the light of the moon seemed to raise a fog, he thought he saw a shade raise itself, the shade of his sister, with her breast covered with blood, her hair hanging loose in the air.