“The Señor is young and inconsiderate. Religious feelings ought to be
respected.” The official in black was addressing me in sad and measured
tones. “This good Catholic,” he continued, eying the bearded ruffian
dubiously, “has made a formal statement to me of your impious
demonstration.”
What a fatal accident, I thought, appalled; but I tried to explain the
matter. I expressed regret. The other gazed at me benevolently.
“Nevertheless, Señor, pray follow me. Even for your own safety. You must
give some account of yourself.”
This I was firmly resolved not to give. But the _Lugareño_ had been
going through a pantomime of scrutinizing my person. He crouched up,
stepped back, then to one side.
“This worthy man,” began the official in black, “complains of your
violence, too....”
“This worthy man,” I shouted stupidly, “is a pirate. He is a Rio Medio
_Lugareño_. He is a criminal.”
The official seemed astounded, and I saw my idiotic mistake at once--too
late!
“Strange,” he murmured, and, at the same time, the ruffianly wretch
began to shout:
“It is he! The traitor! The heretic! I recognize him!”
“Peace, peace!” said the man in black.
“I demand to be taken before the Juez Don Patricio for a deposition,”
shrieked the _Lugareño_. A crowd was beginning to collect.
The official and the officer exchanged consulting glances. At a word
from the latter, the soldiers closed upon me.
I felt utterly overcome, as if the earth had crumbled under my feet, and
the heavens had been rent in twain.
I walked between my captors across the street amongst hooting knots of
people, and up the steps of the portico, as if in a frightful dream.
In the gloomy, chilly hall they made me wait. A soldier stood on each
side of me, and there, absolutely before my eyes on a little table,
reposed Mrs. Williams’ shawl and Sebright’s cap. This was the very hall
of the Palace of Justice of which Sebright had spoken. It was more than
ever like an absurd dream, now. But I had the leisure to collect my
wits. I could not claim the Consul’s protection simply because I should
have to give him a truthful account of myself, and that would mean
giving up Seraphina. The Consul could not protect her. But the _Lion_
would sail on the morrow. Sebright would understand it if Williams
did not. I trusted Sebright’s sagacity. Yes, she would sail tomorrow
evening. A day and a half. If I could only keep the knowledge of
Seraphina from O’Brien till then--she was safe, and I should be safe,
too, for my lips would be unsealed. I could claim the protection of my
Consul and proclaim the villainy of the _Juez_.
“Go in there now, Señor, to be confronted with your accuser,” said the
official in black, appearing before me. He pointed at a small door
to the left. My heart was beating steadily. I felt a sort of intrepid
resignation.