"Padre dear," she murmured, nestling close to him, "I love you so much, so much!"

He answered not, except in the tightening of the arm that was about her.

CHAPTER 31

In the weeks that followed there were days when the very air seemed pregnant with potential destruction, awaiting only the daring hand that would render it kinetic. Jose dwelt in a state of incessant, heart-shaking agitation. The sudden precipitation of the revolt six years before had caught him wholly unprepared, unaware even of the events which had led to it. In the intervening years, however, he had had some opportunity, even in his isolation, to study political conditions in that unhappy country, and to form some estimate of the mental forces at work in both Church and State which, he knew, must ultimately bring them again into conflict for supremacy. His knowledge of the workings of the human mind convinced him that Diego's dire prophecy had not been empty; that the Church, though ostensibly a.s.suming only spiritual leadership, would nevertheless rest not until the question "Who shall be greatest?" even in the petty, sordid affairs of mortals, should be answered, and answered--though by force of arms--in her favor. And his estimate of the strength of the opposing parties had led him to believe that the impending struggle would drench the land in blood.

As to the _role_ which Wenceslas would play, he could form no satisfactory estimate. He knew him to be astute, wary, and the shrewdest of politicians. He knew, likewise, that he was acting in conjunction with powerful financial interests in both North America and Europe. He knew him to be a man who would stop at no scruple, hesitate at no dictate of conscience, yield to no moral or ethical code; one who would play Rome against Wall Street, with his own unfortunate country as the stake; one who would hurl the fairest sons of Colombia at one another's throats to bulge his own coffers; and then wring from the wailing widows their poor substance for Ma.s.ses to move their beloved dead through an imagined purgatory.

But he could not know that, in casting about impatiently for an immediate _causus belli_, Wenceslas had hit upon poor, isolated, little Simiti as the point of ignition, and the pitting of its struggling priest against Don Mario as the method of exciting the necessary spark. He could not know that Wenceslas had represented to the Departmental Governor in Cartagena that an obscure _Cura_ in far-off Simiti, an exile from the Vatican, and the author of a violent diatribe against papal authority, was the nucleus about which anticlerical sentiment was crystallizing in the Department of Bolivar. He did not know that the Governor had been induced by the acting-Bishop's specious representations to send arms to Simiti, to be followed by federal troops only when the crafty Wenceslas saw that the time was ripe. He did not even suspect that Don Mario was to be the puppet whom Wenceslas would sacrifice on the altar of rapacity when he had finished with him, and that the simple-minded Alcalde in his blind zeal to protect the Church would thereby proclaim himself an enemy of both Church and State, and afford the smiling Wenceslas the most fortuitous of opportunities to reveal the Church's unexampled magnanimity by throwing her influence in with that of the Government against their common enemy.

His own intercourse with Wenceslas during the years of his exile in Simiti had been wholly formal, and not altogether disagreeable as long as the contributions of gold to the Bishop's leaking coffers continued. He had received almost monthly communications from Cartagena, relating to the Church at large, and, at infrequent intervals, to the parish of Simiti. But he knew that Cartagena's interest in Simiti was merely casual--nay, rather, financial--and he strove to maintain it so, lest the stimulation of a deeper interest thwart his own plans. His conflict with Diego in regard to Carmen had seemed for the moment to evoke the Bishop's interference; and the sudden and unaccountable disappearance of that priest had threatened to expose both Jose and Carmen to the full scrutiny of Wenceslas. But, fortunately, the insistence of those matters which were rapidly culminating in a political outbreak left Wenceslas little time for interference in affairs which did not pertain exclusively to the momentous questions with which he was now concerned, and Jose and Carmen were still left unmolested. It was only when, desperate lest Congress adjourn without pa.s.sing the measure which he knew would precipitate the conflict, and when, well nigh panic-stricken lest his collusion with Ames and his powerful clique of Wall Street become known through the exasperation of the latter over the long delay, he had resolved to pit Don Mario against Jose in distant Simiti, and, in that unknown, isolated spot, where close investigation would never be made, apply the torch to the waiting combustibles, that Jose saw the danger which had always hung over him and the girl suddenly descending upon them and threatening anew the separation which he had ever regarded as inevitable, and yet which he had hoped against hope to avoid.

With the deposition of arms in Simiti, and the establishment of federal authority in Don Mario, that always pompous official rose in his own esteem and in the eyes of a few parasitical attaches to an eminence never before dreamed of by the humble denizens of this moss-encrusted town. From egotistical, Don Mario became insolent. From sluggishness and torpidity of thought and action, he rose suddenly into tremendous activity. He was more than once observed by Jose or Rosendo emerging hastily from his door and b.u.t.ton-holing some one of the more influential citizens of the town and excitedly reading to him excerpts from letters which he had just received from Cartagena. He might be seen at any hour of the day in the little _patio_ back of his store, busily engaged with certain of the men of the place in examining papers and doc.u.ments, talking volubly and with much excited gesticulation and wild rolling of the eyes. A party seemed to be crystallizing about him. His. .h.i.therto uncertain prestige appeared to be soaring greatly. Men who before made slighting remarks about him, or opposed his administrative acts, were now often seen in earnest converse with him. His manner toward Jose and Rosendo became that of utter contempt. He often refused to notice the priest as they pa.s.sed in the streets.

Jose's apprehension waxed great. It attained its climax when Rosendo came to him one day to discuss the Alcalde's conduct and the change of sentiment which seemed to be stealing rapidly over the hearts of the people of Simiti.

"Padre," said the old man in perplexity, "I cannot say what it is, but Don Mario has some scheme in hand, and--and I do not think it is for our good. I cannot get anything out of those with whom he talks so continually, but Lazaro tells me that--_Bien_, that he learns that Don Mario suspects you of--of not belonging to the Church party."

Jose smiled. Don Mario's suspicions about him had been many and varied, especially as La Libertad mine had not been discovered. He said as much to Rosendo in reply; and as he did so, he thought the old man's face took on a queer and unwonted expression.

"But, Padre," continued Rosendo at length, "they say that Don Mario has word from the Bishop that you once wrote a book against the Holy Father--"

"Good G.o.d!" The words burst from the priest's lips like the sudden issuance of pent steam. Rosendo stared at him in bewilderment.

"Rosendo!" gasped Jose. "How know you that?"

"_Caramba_, Padre! it is what Lazaro tells me," replied the old man, his own suspicion verging upon conviction.

Jose's dark face became almost white, and his breath sobbed out in gasps. A vague idea of the game Wenceslas was playing now stole through his throbbing brain. That book, his Nemesis, his pursuing Fate, had tracked him to this secluded corner of the earth, and in the hands of the most unscrupulous politician of South America was being used as a tool. But, precisely to what end, his wild thought did not as yet disclose. Still, above the welter of it all, he saw clearly that there must be no further delay on his part. Before he could speak, however, Rosendo had resumed the conversation.

"Padre," he said, "had it occurred to you that you were watched, day and night?"

"No--heavens!" Jose had not suspected such a thing.

"It is so, Padre. Don Mario's men keep you in sight during the day; and at night there is always some one hovering near your house. You could not escape now even if you would."

Jose sank back in his chair limp and cold. His frenzied brain held but one thought: he had delayed until too late--and the end was at hand!

"Padre," said Rosendo earnestly, "tell me about that book. You did write it? And against the Holy Father? But--you still say the Ma.s.s.

You have not brought Carmen up in the Church. But it was I who told you not to--that her heart was her church, and it must not be disturbed. But--is it true, as the people say, that you really belong to the party that would destroy the Church?"

Then Jose collected himself. While his heart burned within his breast, he opened its portals and revealed to Rosendo all that lay within.

Beginning with his boyhood, he drew his career out before the wondering eyes of the old man down to the day when the culmination of carnal ambition, false thought, perverted concepts of filial devotion and sacredness of oath, of family honor and pride of race, had washed him up against the dreary sh.o.r.es of Simiti. With no thought of concealment, he exposed his ambition in regard to Carmen--even the love for her that he knew must die of inanition--and ended by throwing himself without reserve upon Rosendo's judgment. When the tense recital was ended, Rosendo leaned over and clasped the priest's trembling hand.

"I understand, Padre," he said gently. "I am dull of wit, I know. And you have often laughed at my superst.i.tions and old family beliefs, whether religious or otherwise. They are strange--I admit that. And I shall die in the Church, and take my chances on the future, for I have tried to live a good life. But--with a man like you--I understand. And now, Padre, we have no time to be sorrowful. We must be up and doing.

We are like fish in a net. But--my life is yours. And both are Carmen's, is it not so? Thanks be to the good Virgin," he muttered, as he walked slowly away, "that Lazaro got those t.i.tles from Don Mario to-day!"

Nightfall brought an unexpected visitor in the person of Don Jorge, who had returned from the remoter parts of the Guamoco region.

"_Bien_, and what news?" he called cheerily, as he strode into the parish house, where Rosendo and Jose were in earnest conversation.

Jose embraced him as a brother, while a great sense of relief stole over him. Then he quickly made known to him the situation.

Don Jorge whistled softly. He ceased his task of sc.r.a.ping the caked mud from his bare limbs, and drew up a chair near Jose.

"So you wrote a book, no? And rapped the sacred priesthood? _Hombre_!

That is good! I never did think you a real priest. But, _amigo_, lend me a copy, for I doubt not it is most excellent reading, and will serve to while away many a weary hour in the jungle." His eyes snapped merrily, and he slapped Jose roundly upon the back when he finished speaking.

"But," he continued more seriously, "things seem to be setting against you, friend. However, let me but canva.s.s the town to-morrow, and by evening I can advise. _Caramba_! this old hole a military depot! Who would have thought it! And yet--and yet--I wonder why the Governor sends arms here. _Bien_, we shall see."

Don Jorge needed not a full day to correctly estimate the situation in Simiti. His bluff, hearty manner and genial good-nature const.i.tuted a pa.s.sport to every house, and by midday he had talked with nearly every man in the _pueblo_. He called Jose and Rosendo for consultation during the _siesta_.

"_Bien_," he said, when they were seated in the parish house, "Don Mario without doubt descends from the very serpent that tempted our mother Eve! He has become a person of considerable importance since the Governor and Don Wenceslas strive with each other to rest their authority and confidence in him. And, unless I mistake much, they have him slated for important work. However that may be, the man already has a large following. Moreover, he has them well poisoned against you, _amigo_ Jose. They know more details about your book and your life before coming to Simiti than do you. _Bien_, you must counteract the Alcalde's influence by a public statement. It must be to-night--in the church! You will have to act quickly, for the old fox has you picked for trouble! Diego's disappearance, you know; the girl, Carmen; your rather foolish course here--it is all laid up against you, friend, and you must meet it!"

Jose a.s.sented. Don Jorge went out and summoned the town to a meeting in the church that evening. Immediately Don Mario issued a mandate forbidding a public gathering at a time of such stress. The people began to a.s.semble on the street corners and in front of their houses to discuss the situation. Their talk became loud and animated. Threats were heard. The people were becoming divided. Don Jorge was everywhere, and none could talk so volubly nor gesticulate and expectorate so vehemently as he.

At sundown the people moved toward the _plaza_. Then the concourse drifted slowly into the church. Don Jorge dragged Jose from the parish house and up to the altar. "You have got to divide them, Padre!" he whispered excitedly. "Your only hope now lies in the formation of your own party to oppose the Alcalde! Talk to them as you never talked before! Say all that you had stored up to say on Judgment Day!"

Again, as Jose faced his little flock and saw them, bare of feet, scantily clad in their simple cotton and calico, their faces set in deep seriousness, the ludicrous side of the whole situation flashed before him, and he almost laughed aloud at the spectacle which the ancient, decayed town at that moment presented. These primitive folk--they were but children, with all a child's simplicity of nature, its petulance, its immaturity of view, and its sudden and unreasoning acceptance of authority! He turned to the altar and took up a tall bra.s.s crucifix. He held it out before him for a moment. Then he called upon the Christ to witness to the truth of what he was about to say.

A hush fell over the a.s.sembly. Even Don Mario seemed to become calm after that dramatic spectacle. Then Jose spoke. He talked long and earnestly. He knew not that such eloquence abode within him. His declamation became more and more impa.s.sioned. He opened wide his heart and called upon all present to look fearlessly within. Yes, he had written the book in question. But its publication was unfortunate.

Yes, it had expressed his views at that time. But now--ah, now!

He stopped and looked about the church. The shadows were gathering thick, and the smoking kerosene lamps battled vainly with the heavy blackness. In a far corner of the room he saw Carmen and Ana. Rosendo sat stolidly beside them. The sightless babe waved its tiny hands in mute helplessness, while Dona Maria held it closely to her bosom.

Carmen's last admonition sang in his ears. He must know--really _know_--that the babe could see! He must know that G.o.d was omnipotent!

His appeal to the people was not for himself. He cared not what became of him. But Carmen--and now Ana and the blind babe--and the calm, unimpa.s.sioned Dona Maria, the embodiment of all that was greatest in feminine character--and Rosendo, waiting to lay down his life for those he loved! And then, this people, soon, he felt, to be shattered by the shock of war--ah, G.o.d above! what could he say that might save them? If they could know, as Carmen did, if they could love and trust as she did, would the hideous spectre of war ever stalk among them? Could the world know, and love, and trust as did this fair child, would it waste itself in useless wars, sink with famine and pestilence, consume with the anguish of fear, and in the end bury its blasted hopes in the dank, reeking tomb? The thought gave wings to his voice, soul to his words. For hours the people sat spellbound.

Then he finished. He raised his hands in benediction. And, while the holy hush remained upon the people, he descended the altar steps, his frame still tremulous with the vehemence of his appeal, and went alone to his house.

CHAPTER 32

Dawn had scarcely reddened in the east when a number of men a.s.sembled at Jose's door.

"You have turned the trick, _amigo_," said Don Jorge, rousing up from his _petate_ on the floor beside the priest's bed. "You have won over a few of them, at least."

Jose went out to meet the early callers.

"We come to say, Padre," announced Andres Arellano, the dignified spokesman, "that we have confidence in your words of last night. We suspect Don Mario, even though he has letters from the Bishop. We are your men, and we would keep the war away from Simiti."