Quite a combination of circumstances had favoured the escape of the four
_forzados_--the balking of the horses, the absence of Dominguez, and the
relaxed vigilance of the guards--from their brains bemuddled with drink.
But there was yet another lucky chance that stood them in stead--the
point from which they had started. The line of sentries ended at the
Alamedas Gate, and, as the one posted there was he who had them in
particular charge, once past him they had only to fear a single bullet
sent after them.
As it turned out, they did not even get that, fortune favouring them in
every way. This sentry, though last on the line outward, was the first
encountered by the people returning from the ceremony at San Corme;
therefore made most of by passing friends, with the bottle oftener
presented to his lips. As a consequence, when the carriage whirled past
him he had but an indistinct idea of why it was going so fast, and none
at all as to who were in it. With eyes drowned in _aguardiente_ he
stood as one dazed, looking after, but taking no measures to stop it.
When at length some one bawled the truth into his ear and he brought his
flint-lock to an unsteady level, it would have been too late--had the
piece gone off. Luckily for those on the sidewalk, it did not; missing
fire by a flash in the pan, as might have been anticipated.
Never were sentries more completely taken by surprise than they guarding
the chain-gang. Nor more disagreeably. They knew they had been
neglecting their duty, and might expect severe punishment! possibly set
at the very task they were now superintending! Still, they made no
attempt to pursue. They were not cavalry; and only mounted men could
overtake that landau with its curious load, soon to vanish from their
sight. So they stood gazing after it in helpless bewilderment, their
faces showing a variety of expressions, surprise, anger, fear, mingled
in a most ludicrous manner. Deserting their posts they had gathered
into a knot, and it was some time before they had so far recovered their
senses as to think of despatching one of their number to the Plaza
Grande after cavalry sure to be there.
It was a fine opportunity for others of the gaol-birds to make a bolt;
but for the obstructive coupling-chains no doubt some would avail
themselves of it. These, however, hindered the attempt. There were no
more restive horses, nor blundering coachmen to bring another carriage
near enough for a rush.
But the most interesting group now on the ground was that which had
collected round the ladies left carriage-less; some offering services,
others speaking words of sympathy. "_Las senoritas pobres_!"
"_Pobrecitas_!"--("The poor young ladies!" "Poor things!") were
exclamations uttered over and over again.
It was a trying situation for the "poor things" to be in, sure enough.
But they acquitted themselves admirably; especially the Condesa, who,
young though she was, for courage and coolness had few to equal her. In
that emergency no man could have shown himself her superior. Her look
of still untranquillised terror, the intermittent flashes of anger in
her eyes as she loudly denounced the ruffians who had carried off their
carriage, was a piece of acting worthy of a Rachel or Siddons. He would
have been a keen physiognomist who could have told that her emotions
were counterfeit. Little dreamt the sympathising spectators that while
being pushed out of the carriage she had contrived to whisper back to
the man so rudely behaving: "Look under the cushions, _querido_! You'll
find something. _Dios te guarda_!"
Still less could they have supposed that the other young lady, looking
so meek, had at the same time spoken tender words to the second ruffian
who had assailed them.
The part the _pobrecitas_ were playing, with the sympathy they received,
seemed to themselves so comically ludicrous that, but for its serious
side, neither could have kept countenance. Alone the thought of the
lovers not yet being beyond danger hindered their bursting out into
laughter.
And lest this, too, might cease to restrain them they seized upon the
earliest pretext to get away from the spot.
Glad were they when some of their gentlemen acquaintances, who chanced
to be passing the place, came up and proposed escorting them home. A
service accepted and, it need not be said, offered with as much alacrity
as it was received.
Their departure had no effect in dispersing the crowd which had gathered
by the Alamedas Gate. A spot signalised by an episode so odd and
original, was not to be forsaken in that quick inconsiderate way.
Instead, the throng grew quicker, until the street for a long stretch
was packed full of people, close as they could stand. Only one part of
it remained unoccupied, the central list showing the open sewer with its
bordering of black mud. In their holiday attire the populace declined
invading this, though they stood wedging one another along its edge;
their faces turned towards it, with hilarity in their looks and laughter
on their lips. It was just the sort of spectacle to please them; the
sentries in a row--for they had now sneaked back to their post--
appearing terribly crestfallen, while those over whom they stood guard
seemed, on the contrary, cheerful--as though expecting soon to be
released from their chains. With them it was the _esprit de corps_ of
the galley slave, glad to see a comrade escape from their common misery,
though he cannot escape himself.
All this, however, was tame; but the winding up of the spectacle in a
quiet natural way. It would soon have been over now, and the sightseers
scattered off to their homes; but just as they were beginning to retire,
a new incident claimed their attention. A scene almost as exciting as
any that had preceded, though only a single personage appeared in it.
This Dominguez, the gaoler, who had been absent all the while at his
_pulqueria_, and only just warned of the event that had so convulsed the
Calle de Plateros, breaking through the crowd like an enraged bull,
rushed along the sewer's edge, nourishing his whip over the heads of the
_forzados_, at the same time reviling the sentries for their scandalous
neglect of duty! To tell the truth, he was more troubled about his own.
He had received particular instructions to be watchful of four
prisoners--the very ones that had escaped. Well might he dread the
reckoning in store for him on return to the gaol. However could he face
his governor?
For some time he strode to and fro, venting his drunken spleen alike on
soldiers or scavengers. Some of the former would have retaliated; but
they knew him to have authority in high places, and therefore kept
silent, sullenly enduring it. Not so the spectators, many of whom,
knowing, hated him. Possibly, more than probably, some of them had been
under his care. But to all he was now affording infinite amusement.
They laughed at his impotent anger, and laughed again, one crying out,
"He's as good as a bull in a ring!" another exclaiming, "_Viva el Senor
Dominguez rey de las bastoneros_!" ("Hurrah for the Senor Dominguez,
king of the turnkeys!")--a sally which elicited roars of applauding
laughter.
If angry before, he was now infuriated. Purple in the face, he was
making a dash at the man whom he suspected of mocking him, when his foot
slipped and down he went into the drain head foremost.
He had altogether disappeared, and was for some seconds out of sight;
the laughter, which had become a yelling chorus, all the while
continuing. Nor did it cease when he re-appeared; instead, was louder
and more uproarious than ever. For his face, late blue with rage, was
now black with a limning of the sewer liquid.
But he was less mad than sad, after the ill-timed tumble. The _douche_
had tamed, if not sobered him; and his only thought now was how to get
away from that place of repeated discomfitures, anywhere to hide and
wash himself.
Luck declared for him at last, in the approach of a squadron of Hussars,
drawing off from him the eyes of the spectators; who had now enough to
do looking out for themselves and their safety. For the Hussars were
coming on at a gallop, with drawn sabres.
A crush and a scampering followed, as they forced their way through the
crowd, shouting, and striking with the back of their blades. After they
had passed, the people were no longer in a humour for laughing at the
"King of the turnkeys," nor any one else; neither was he there to be
laughed at.