Carmen Ariza
Chapter 89 : Then he framed another despatch. "Your Excellency," it read, "the Church

Then he framed another despatch. "Your Excellency," it read, "the Church supports the Administration."

Late that evening a second message from Bogota was put into his hand.

He tore it open and read, "The Hercules ordered to Simiti."

"Ah," he sighed, sinking into his chair. "At last! The President interferes! And now a wire to Ames. And--_Caramba_, yes! A message to the captain of the Hercules to bring me that girl!"

"Well, old man, I've done all I could to stave off the blundering idiot; but I guess you are in for it! The jig is up, I'm thinking!"

It was Reed talking. Simiti again slept, while the American and Jose in the _sacristia_ talked long and earnestly. Fernando kept guard at the door. The other prisoners lay wrapped in slumber.

"Your message went down the river two days ago," continued Reed. "And, believe me! since then I've racked my dusty brain for topics to keep the Alcalde occupied and forgetful of you. But I'm dryer than a desert now; and he vows that to-morrow you and your friends will be dragged out of this old shack by your necks, and then shot."

The two days had been filled with exquisite torture for Jose. Only the presence of Carmen restrained him from rus.h.i.+ng out and ending it all.

Her faith had been his constant marvel. Every hour, every moment, she knew only the immanence of her G.o.d; whereas he, obedient to the undulating Rincon character-curve, expressed the mutability of his faith in hourly alternations of optimism and black despair. After periods of exalted hope, stimulated by the girl's sublime confidence, there would come the inevitable backward rush of all the chilling fear, despondency, and false thought which he had just expelled in vain, and he would be left again floundering helplessly in the dismal labyrinth of terrifying doubts.

The quiet which enwrapped them during these days of imprisonment; the gloom-shrouded church; the awed hush that lay upon them in the presence of the dead Lazaro, stimulated the feeble and sensitive spirit of the priest to an unwonted degree of introspection, and he sat for hours gazing blankly into the ghastly emptiness of his past.

He saw how at the first, when Carmen entered his life with the stimulus of her buoyant faith, there had seemed to follow an emptying of self, a quick clearing of his mentality, and a replacement of much of the morbid thought, which clung limpet-like to his mentality, by new and wonderfully illuminating ideas. For a while he had seemed to be on the road to salvation; he felt that he had touched the robe of the Christ, and heavenly virtue had entered into his being.

But then the shadows began to gather once more. He did not cling to the new truths and spiritual ideas tenaciously enough to work them out in demonstration. He had proved shallow soil, whereon the seed had fallen, only to be choked by the weeds which grew apace therein. The troubles which cl.u.s.tered thick about him after his first few months in Simiti had seemed to hamper his freer limbs, and check his upward progress. Constant conflict with Diego, with Don Mario, and Wenceslas; the pressure from his mother and his uncle, had kept him looking, now at evil, now at good, giving life and power to each in turn, and wrestling incessantly with the false concepts which his own mentality kept ever alive. Worrying himself free from one set of human beliefs, he fell again into the meshes of others. Though he thought he knew the truth--though he saw it lived and demonstrated by Carmen--he had yet been afraid to throw himself unreservedly upon his convictions. And so he daily paid the dire penalty which error failed not to exact.

But Carmen, the object of by far the greater part of all his anxious thought, had moved as if in response to a beckoning hand that remained invisible to him. Each day she had grown more beautiful. And each day, too, she had seemed to draw farther away from him, as she rose steadily out of the limited encompa.s.sment in which they dwelt. Not by conscious design did she appear to separate from him, but inevitably, because of his own narrow capacity for true spiritual intercourse with such a soul as hers. He shared her ideals; he had sought in his way to attain them; he had striven, too, to comprehend her spirit, which in his heart he knew to be a bright reflection of the infinite Spirit which is G.o.d. But as the years pa.s.sed he had found his efforts to be like her more and more clumsy and blundering, and his responses to her spiritual demands less and less vigorous. At times he seemed to catch glimpses of her soul that awed him. At others he would feel himself half inclined to share the people's belief that she was possessed of powers occult. And then he would sink into despair of ever understanding the girl--for he knew that to do so he must be like her, even as to understand G.o.d we must become like Him.

After her fourteenth birthday Jose found himself rapidly ceasing to regard Carmen as a mere child. Not that she did not still often seem delightfully immature, when her spirits would flow wildly, and she would draw him into the frolics which had yielded her such extravagant joy in former days; but that the growth of knowledge and the rapid development of her thought had seemed to bring to her a deepening sense of responsibility, a growing impression of maturity, and an increasing regard for the meaning of life and her part in it. She had ceased to insist that she would never leave Simiti. And Jose often thought of late, as he watched her, that he detected signs of irksomeness at the limitations which her environment imposed upon her. But, if so, these were never openly expressed; nor did her manner ever change toward her foster-parents, or toward the simple and uncomprehending folk of her native town.

From the first, Jose had const.i.tuted himself her teacher, guide, and protector. And she had joyously accepted him. His soured and rebellious nature had been no barrier to her great love, which had twined about his heart like ivy around a crumbling tower. And his love for the child had swelled like a torrent, fed hourly by countless uncharted streams. He had watched over her like a father; he had rejoiced to see her bloom into a beauty as rich and luxuriant as the tropical foliage; he had gazed for hours into the unsearchable abyss of her black eyes and read there, in ecstasy, a wondrous response to his love; and when, but a few short days ago, she had again intimated a future union, a union upon which, even as a child, she had insisted, yet one which he knew--had always known--utterly, extravagantly impossible--he had, nevertheless, seized upon the thought with a joy that was pa.s.sionate, desperate--and had then flung it from him with a cry of agony. It was not the disparity of ages; it was not the girl's present immaturity. In less than a year she would have attained the marriageable age of these Latin countries. But he could wait two, three, aye, ten years for such a divine gift! No; the shadow which lay upon his life was cast by the huge presence of the master whose chains he wore, the iron links of which, galling his soul, he knew to be unbreakable. And, as he sat in the gloom of the decayed old church where he was now a prisoner, the thought that his situation but symbolized an imprisonment in bonds eternal roused him to a half-frenzied resolve to destroy himself.

"Padre dear," the girl had whispered to him that night, just before the American came again with his disquieting report, "Love will open the door--Love will set us free. We are not afraid. Remember, Paul thanked G.o.d for freedom even while he sat in chains. And I am just as thankful as he."

Jose knew as he kissed her tenderly and bade her go to her place of rest on the bench beside Dona Maria that death stood between her and the stained hand of Wenceslas Ortiz.

As morning reddened in the eastern sky Don Mario, surrounded by an armed guard and preceded by his secretary, who beat l.u.s.tily upon a small drum, marched pompously down the main street and across the _plaza_ to the church. Holding his cane aloft he ascended the steps of the platform and again loudly demanded the surrender of the prisoners within.

"On what terms, Don Mario?" asked Jose.

"The same," reiterated the Alcalde vigorously.

Jose sighed. "Then we will die, Don Mario," he replied sadly, moving away from the door and leading his little band of harried followers to the rear of the altar.

The Alcalde quickly descended the steps and shouted numerous orders.

Several of his men hurried off in various directions, while those remaining at once opened fire upon the church. In a few moments the firing was increased, and the entire attack was concentrated upon the front doors.

The din without became horrible. Shouts and curses filled the morning air. But it was evident to Jose that his besiegers were meeting with no opposition from his own supporters in the fight of two days before.

The sight of the deadly rifles in the hands of Don Mario's party had quickly quenched their loyalty to Jose, and led them basely to abandon him and his companions to their fate.

After a few minutes of vigorous a.s.sault the attack abruptly ceased, and Jose was called again to the door.

"It's Reed," came the American's voice. He spoke in English. "I've persuaded the old carrion to let me have a moment's pow-wow with you.

Say, give the old buzzard what he wants. Otherwise it's sure death for you all. I've argued myself sick with him, but he's as set as concrete. I'll do what I can for you if you come out; but he's going to have the girl, whether or no. Seems that the Bishop of Cartagena wants her; and the old crow here is playing politics with him."

"Yes, old man," chimed in another voice, which Jose knew to be that of Harris. "You know these fellows are h.e.l.l on politics."

"Shut up, Harris!" growled Reed. Then to Jose, "What'll I tell the old duffer?"

"Lord Harry!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Harris, "if I had a couple of Mausers I could put these ancient Springfields on the b.u.m in a hurry!"

"Tell him, friend, that we are prepared to die," replied Jose drearily, as he turned back into the gloom and took Carmen's hand.

The final a.s.sault began, and Jose knew that it was only a question of minutes when the trembling doors would fall. He crouched with his companions behind the altar, awaiting the inevitable. Carmen held his hand tightly.

"Love will save us, Padre," she whispered. "Love them! Love them, Padre! They don't know what is using them--and it has no power! G.o.d is here--is everywhere! Love will save us!"

Rosendo bent over and whispered to Don Jorge, "When the doors fall and the men rush in, stand you here with me! When they reach the altar we will throw ourselves upon them, I first, you following, while Juan will bring Carmen and try to protect her. With our _machetes_ we will cut our way out. If we find that it is hopeless--then give me Carmen!"

A moment later, as with a loud wail, the two front doors burst asunder and fell cras.h.i.+ng to the floor. A flood of golden sunlight poured into the dark room. In its yellow wake rushed the mob, with exultant yells.

Rosendo rose quickly and placed himself at the head of his little band.

But, ere the first of the frenzied besiegers had crossed the threshold of the church, a loud cry arose in the _plaza_.

"The soldiers! _Dios arriba_! The soldiers!"

Down the main thoroughfare came a volley of shots. Don Mario, half way through the church door, froze in his tracks. Those of his followers who had entered, turned quickly and made pellmell for the exit. Their startled gaze met a company of federal troops rus.h.i.+ng down the street, firing as they came. Don Mario strained after his flying wits.

"Close the doors!" he yelled. But the doors were p.r.o.ne upon the floor, and could not be replaced. Then he and his men scrambled out and rushed around to one side of the building. As the soldiers came running up, the Alcalde's followers fired point blank into their faces, then dropped their guns and fled precipitately.

It was all over in a trice. Within an hour staid old Simiti lay in the grip of martial law, with its once overweening Alcalde, now a meek and frightened prisoner, arraigned before Captain Morales, holding court in the shabby town hall.

But the court-martial was wholly perfunctory. Though none there but himself knew it, the captain had come with the disposal of the unfortunate Don Mario prearranged. A perfunctory hearing of witnesses, which but increased his approval of his orders, and he p.r.o.nounced sentence upon the former Alcalde, and closed the case.

"Attack upon the church--a.s.sa.s.sination of the man Lazaro--Firing upon federal soldiers--To be shot at sunset, senor," he concluded solemnly.

Don Mario sank to the floor in terror. "_Caramba! caramba_!" he howled. "But I had letters from the Bishop! I was ordered by him to do it!"

"_Bien_, senor," replied the captain, whose heart was not wholly devoid of pity, "produce your letters."

"_Dios arriba_! I burned them! He said I should! I obeyed him!

_Caramba_! I am lost--lost!"

"_Senor Capitan_," interposed Jose, "may I plead for the man? He is--"

"There, Padre," returned the captain, holding up a hand, "it is useless. Doubtless this has been brought about by motives which you do not understand. It is unfortunate--but inevitable. You have a _carcel_ here? _Bien_," addressing his lieutenant, "remove the prisoner to it, and at sunset let the sentence be carried out."

Don Mario, screaming with fear, was dragged from the room.

"And now, senores," continued the captain calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, "I appoint Don Fernando, former secretary, as temporary Alcalde, until such time as the Governor may fill the office permanently. And," he continued, looking about the room with a heavy scowl, while the timid people shrank against the wall, "as for those misguided ones who took part with Don Mario in this anticlerical uprising--his fate will serve, I think, as a warning!"

A hush of horror lay upon the stunned people as they filed slowly out of the room.