"There is nothing in this but a religious joke. They are going to get up here a dramatic representation of the Passion. We are no longer in an Indian village, but in Jerusalem. This fellow with the bespattered face personates Christ, and the alcalde, confound him! is Pilate."
In fact, we were about to have produced before us all the scenes of a genuine mystery of the Middle Ages. The alcalde, seated under his canopy of laurel, having gravely listened to the calumnious accusations of the Jews, rose and pronounced in the Indian tongue the historical sentence of condemnation. Such a storm of cries and yells greeted the sentence, that the unfortunate lépero (for it was one of that class, who, for a few reals, was personating Christ) seemed to think that the drama was becoming rather too serious. He cried out in Spanish,
"Caramba! I think it would have been better had I taken the part of the good thief. Señor Alcalde, don't forget to pay me three reals more for personating the Divine Redeemer!"
"You are a fine fellow!" said the alcalde, pushing the lépero back, who, in violation of all historical truth, took refuge in the tribunal itself. At the same time, one of the soldiers who surrounded the Christ, more faithful to his part than the bespattered lépero, struck him a smart blow on the cheek. The lépero could contain himself no longer; he rapped out a fearful oath, and struck out right and left at his astonished persecutors. There was a general melée; a fierce struggle arose between the actor, who had completely forgotten the spirit of his part, and the Indians, who attacked him with a vigor worthy of the agents of Herod. The contest was brought to an end by a heroic sacrifice on the part of the alcalde, who, to overcome the obstinacy of the lépero, promised him six reals more than he was originally entitled to. On this condition the fellow agreed to walk to Calvary in the midst of the Indians. They dragged him along to the place of execution, dealing him a more than ordinary allowance of blows.
This business finished, the alcalde returned to us. He had pronounced the sentence upon the pretended Christ with an ill-disguised anxiety. When we saw him conversing with the clerk, I looked somewhat dejectedly at the monk. To my amazement, a smile appeared on his lips which set me completely at my ease. The cause of this sudden change in Fray Serapio was soon explained. To avoid the imprisonment which he saw impending over us, he resolved to appeal to the religious feelings of the alcalde and his followers, of which they had just given such striking proofs. Fray Serapio had reasoned justly. Just when the alcalde was rising to pronounce our sentence, the monk gravely approached the tribunal, snatched off the neckerchief which encircled his head, and showed the Indian magistrate his tonsure. This was truly a theatrical stroke. The man who, scarcely a second before, was affecting to look upon us with such stubborn pride, threw himself trembling and confused at the feet of the Franciscan.