Don Manuel spread open the roll on his desk, and glanced over the papers. They consisted of a series of political articles for the Diario.
"It is too soon," said he, as he turned the last sheet and looked up.
"They would not meet the approval of his Excellency Don Baltazar?"
"I dare not even submit them to his inspection."
"The day is at hand when the editor of the Diario will scorn the approval of the nominee of Spain," replied Evaña.
Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, walking through the streets of Buenos Aires, heard the careless comments of the people on the disasters which had befallen Spain, heard them as Don Carlos Evaña had heard them, but their effect upon him was far different.
"I have sought to raise this people from their ignorance," said he to himself; "I have studied their interests and welfare in every measure which I have adopted; I have even sought the aid of some of the most intelligent among them in the hope of inspiring them with the true spirit of patriotism, yet they can rejoice at the misfortunes which have fallen on my country, upon the country to which they owe the love and reverence of children to a parent."
So musing bitterly to himself he took his way to the fort. As he passed through the ante-room leading to the official apartments of the Viceroy, the door opened of a room in which Don Baltazar de Cisneros was accustomed to give private audience to such as were most in his confidence; from this room came forth Don Alfonso Miranda. Don Roderigo started, an angry frown spread over his features, he returned the obsequious bow of the medico with a haughty stare, and passed on into the presence of the Viceroy.
"Your Excellency is perhaps not aware of the character of the man who has just left you," said he to Don Baltazar, as he closed the door behind him.
"You speak of Señor Miranda?" replied Don Baltazar.