"I believe you," he said, grasping his hand. "It was not in vain that I came to you for counsel. I will go straight to the curate, who, after all, may be a fair-minded man. They are not all like the persecutor of my father. I go with faith in God and man."
He took leave of Tasio, mounted, and rode away, followed by the regard of the pessimistic old philosopher, who stood muttering to himself:
"We shall see, we shall see how the fates unroll the drama begun in the cemetery!"
This time the wise Tasio was wrong; the drama had begun long before.
It was a room of twelve or fifteen by eight or ten yards. The whitewashed walls were covered with charcoal drawings, more or less ugly, more or less decent. In the corner were a dozen old shot-guns and some rusty swords, the arms of the cuadrilleros.
At one end, draped with soiled red curtains, was a portrait of His Majesty the King, and on the platform underneath an old fauteuil opened its worn arms; before this was a great table, daubed with ink, carved and cut with inscriptions and monograms, like the tables of a German students' inn. Lame chairs and tottering benches completed the furniture.
In this hall meetings were held, courts sat, tortures were inflicted. At the moment the authorities of the pueblo and its vicinity were met there. The party of the old did not mingle with the party of the young; the two represented the Conservatives and Liberals.
"My friends," Don Filipo, the chief of the Liberals, was saying to a little group, "we shall vanquish the old men this time; I'm going to present their plan myself, with exaggerations, you may imagine."
"What are you saying?" demanded his surprised auditors.
"Listen," said Don Filipo. "This morning I ran across old Tasio. He said to me: 'Your enemies are more opposed to your person than to your ideas. Is there something you don't want to have go through? Propose it yourself. If it's as desirable as a mitre, they will reject it. Then let the most modest young fellow among you present what you really want. To humiliate you, your enemies will help to carry it.' Hush! Keep the secret."
The gobernadorcillo had come in. Conversation ceased, all took places, and silence reigned.
The captain, as the gobernadorcillo is called, sat down in the chair under the king's portrait. His look was harried. He coughed, passed his hand over his cranium, coughed again, and at length began in a failing voice: