to return had been delayed. When, at length, they landed at Cadiz Don Francisco had heard of Mariquita’s plight and, impatient of the endless formalities and delays which were more than a lover’s impatience could endure, he had left the army without leave and started for Seville. But he had been captured and imprisoned, for such an infringement of military discipline was always severely punished.
His comrade had sent for Señor Vasquez and told him the story, thinking that the news of her lover’s whereabouts might cheer Mariquita.
“But you must not tell her, children,” cautioned their father. “She would be distressed to know that he is in prison. Do not let her know that we have heard any news for a little time. Meanwhile, I will see what I can do.”
He had just finished speaking, when they stopped at an imposing-looking building which their father said was the headquarters of the military governor. The guard at the entrance saluted, as they passed, and none of the soldiers prevented their advance. Antonio felt very proud of this evidence of their father’s importance, for even the door-keeper at the governor’s office seemed to recognize that the handsome young officer was a person of authority and, very soon, they had permission to enter.
The governor greeted Señor Vasquez most cordially and spoke pleasantly to the children when their father explained that his business was so urgent that he had been unable to take them home, before making his call.
Antonio’s eyes were fastened admiringly on his splendid uniform, but Anitia saw that his eyes were kind, and she felt sure that he would help Mariquita, when he knew about her trouble.
Both children knew that it was the custom to pardon many prisoners on Christmas Day, and they suspected what their father’s request would be.
First Señor Vasquez asked for the records of Don Francisco’s regiment and found that the soldier’s story was not only true, but that his friend had been transferred to a military prison in their own city. All this he showed to the governor, telling the story he had just heard and explaining about Mariquita.
The governor looked very grave and sat thinking silently for several minutes after Señor Vasquez had ceased speaking. Then he said, “It is our custom, as you know, to visit all the soldier-prisoners on noche-buena and to pardon all those who are in gaol for light offences. But Don Francisco’s offence is not a light one, and I fear it would not do to overlook it.”
The twins had been sitting very quietly in the corner, but at the governor’s words, Antonio forgot his awe of the great man and interrupted him. “Oh, sir,” he said, “couldn’t you pardon him for Mariquita’s sake? She has worked so hard making bandages and packing comforts for the soldiers.” “I’ve heard her say many times that, in spite of all her suffering, she would send Don Francisco to war again, if Spain needed him,” added Anitia shyly.