THE OUTRAGE
Don Diego's carriage had just pulled up before his house when a squad
of troopers went by it in a cloud of dust. He did not recognize any of
them for men he had seen about the tavern.
"Ha! There are new soldiers on the trail of Señor Zorro?" he asked a
man standing near.
"They are a part of the escort of the governor, _caballero_."
"The governor is here?"
"He arrived but a short time ago, _caballero_, and has gone to the
_presidio_."
"I suppose they must have fresh news of this highwayman to send them
riding furiously through dust and sun like that. He appears to be
an elusive rascal. By the saints! Had I been here when the governor
arrived, no doubt he would have put up at my house. Now some other
_caballero_ will have the honor of entertaining him. It is much to be
regretted."
And then Don Diego went into the house, and the man who had heard him
speak did not know whether to doubt the sincerity of that last remark.
Led by the courier, who knew the way, the squad of troopers galloped
swiftly along the highroad, and presently turned up the trail toward
Don Carlos's house. They went at this business as they would have
gone about capturing a desperado. As they struck the driveway, they
scattered to left and right, tearing up Doña Catalina's flower-beds and
sending chickens squawking out of the way, and so surrounded the house
in almost an instant of time.
Don Carlos had been sitting on the veranda in his accustomed place,
half in a doze, and he did not notice the advance of the troopers until
he heard the beating of their horses' hoofs. He got to his feet in
alarm, wondering whether Señor Zorro was in the vicinity again and the
soldiers after him.
Three dismounted in a cloud of dust before the steps, and the sergeant
who commanded them made his way forward, slapping the dust from his
uniform.
"You are Don Carlos Pulido?" he asked in a loud voice.
"I have that honor, _señor_."
"I have order to place you under military arrest."
"Arrest!" Don Carlos cried. "Who gave you such orders?"
"His excellency, the governor. He now is in Reina de Los Angeles,
_señor_."
"And the charge?"
"Treason, and aiding the enemies of the state!"
"Preposterous!" Don Carlos cried. "I am accused of treason, when,
though the victim of oppression, I have withheld my hand against those
in power? What are the particulars of the charges?"
"You will have to ask the _magistrado_ that, _señor_. I know nothing
of the matter except that I am to arrest you."
"You wish me to accompany you?"
"I demand it, _señor_."
"I am a man of blood, a _caballero_--"
"I have my orders!"
"So I cannot be trusted to appear at my place of trial? But perhaps
the hearing is to be held immediately. So much the better, for all the
quicker can I clear myself. We go to the _presidio_?"
"I go to the _presidio_ when this work is done. You go to _carcel_,"
the sergeant said.
"To _carcel_?" Don Carlos screeched. "You would dare? You would throw a
_caballero_ into the filthy jail? You would place him where they keep
insubordinate natives and common felons?"
"I have my orders, _señor_. You will prepare to accompany us at once!"
"I must give my superintendent instructions regarding the management of
the _hacienda_."
"I'll go along with you, _señor_".
Don Carlos's face flamed purple. His hands clenched as he regarded the
sergeant.
"Am I to be insulted with every word?" he cried. "Do you think I would
run away like a criminal?"
"I have my orders, _señor_!" the sergeant said.
"At least, I may break this news to my wife and daughter without an
outsider being at my shoulder?"
"Your wife is Doña Catalina Pulido?"
"Certainly."
"I am ordered to arrest her also, _señor_."
"Scum!" Don Carlos cried. "You would put hands on a lady? You would
remove her from her house?"
"It is my orders. She, too, is charged with treason and with aiding the
enemies of the state."
"By the saints! It is too much! I shall fight against you and your men
as long as there is breath in my body!"
"And that will not be for long, Don Carlos, if you attempt to give
battle. I am but carrying out my orders."
"My beloved wife placed under arrest like a native wench! And on such a
charge! What are you to do with her, sergeant?"
"She goes to _carcel_!"
"My wife in that foul place? Is there no justice in the land? She is a
tender lady of noble blood--"
"Enough of this, _señor_! My orders are my orders, and I carry them out
as instructed. I am a soldier, and I obey."
Now Doña Catalina came running to the veranda, for she had been
listening to the conversation just inside the door. Her face was white,
but there was a look of pride in it. She feared Don Carlos might make
an attack on the soldier, and she feared he would be wounded or slain
if he did, and knew that at least it could only double the charge held
against him.
"You have heard?" Don Carlos asked.
"I have heard, my husband. It is but more persecution. I am too proud
to argue the point with these common soldiers, who are but doing as
they have been commanded. A Pulido can be a Pulido, my husband, even in
a foul _carcel_."
"But the shame of it!" Don Carlos cried. "What does it all mean? Where
will it end? And our daughter will be here alone with the servants. We
have no relatives, no friends--"
"Your daughter is Señorita Lolita Pulido?" the sergeant asked. "Then do
not grieve, _señor_, for you will not be separated. I have an order for
the arrest of your daughter, also."
"The charge?"
"The same, _señor_."
"And you would take her--"
"To _carcel_!"
"An innocent, high-born, gentle girl?"
"My orders, _señor_," said the sergeant.
"May the saints blast the man who issued them!" Don Carlos cried. "They
have taken my wealth and lands. They have heaped shame upon me and
mine. But, thank the saints, they cannot break our pride!"
And then Don Carlos's head went erect, and his eyes flashed, and he
took his wife by the arm and turned about to enter the house, with the
sergeant at his heels. He broke the news to the Señorita Lolita, who
stood as if stricken dumb for an instant, and then burst into a torrent
of tears. And then the pride of the Pulidos came to her, and she dried
her eyes, and curled her pretty lips with scorn at the big sergeant,
and pulled aside her skirts when he stepped near.
Servants brought the _carreta_ before the door, and Don Carlos and his
wife and daughter got into it, and the journey of shame to the _pueblo_
began.
Their hearts might be bursting with grief, but not one of the Pulidos
showed it. Their heads were held high, they looked straight ahead, they
pretended not to hear the low taunts of the soldiers.
They passed others, who were crowded off the road by the troopers,
and who looked with wonder at those in the _carreta_, but they did
not speak. Some watched in sorrow, and some grinned at their plight,
according to whether those who passed were of the governor's party or
of the honest folk who abhorred injustice.
And so, finally, they came to the edge of Reina de Los Angeles, and
there they met fresh insult. For his excellency had determined that
the Pulidos should be humbled to the dust; and he had sent some of his
troopers to spread news of what was being done, and to give coins to
natives and _peons_ if they would jeer the prisoners when they arrived.
For the governor wished to teach a lesson that would prevent other
noble families from turning against him, and wished it to appear that
the Pulidos were hated by all classes alike.
At the edge of the plaza they were met by the mob. There were cruel
jeers and jests, some of which no innocent _señorita_ should have
heard. Don Carlos's face was red with wrath, and there were tears in
Doña Catalina's eyes, and Señorita Lolita's lips were trembling, but
they gave no other sign that they heard.
The drive around the plaza to the _carcel_ was made slow purposely. At
the door of the inn there was a throng of rascals who had been drinking
wine at the expense of the governor, and these added to the din.
One man threw mud, and it splashed on Don Carlos's breast, but he
refused to notice it. He had one arm around his wife, the other around
his daughter, as if to give them what protection he could, and he was
looking straight ahead.
There were some men of blood who witnessed the scene, yet took no part
in the tumult. Some of them were as old as Don Carlos, and this thing
brought to their hearts fresh, yet passive, hatred of the governor.
And some were young, with the blood running hot in their veins, and
they looked upon the suffering face of Doña Catalina and imagined
her their own mother, and upon the lovely face of the _señorita_ and
imagined her their sister or betrothed.
And some of these men glanced at one another furtively, and though
they did not speak they were wondering the same thing--whether Señor
Zorro would hear of this, and whether he would send word around for the
members of the new league to gather.
The _carreta_ stopped before the _carcel_ finally, the mob of jeering
natives and _peons_ surrounding it. The soldiers made some pretense of
holding them back, and the sergeant dismounted and forced Don Carlos
and his wife and daughter to step to the ground.
Uncouth and intoxicated men jostled them as they walked up the steps
to the door. More mud was thrown, and some of it spattered upon Doña
Catalina's gown. But if the mob expected an outburst on the part of the
aged _caballero_, it was disappointed. Don Carlos held his head high,
ignoring those who were striving to torment him, and so led his ladies
to the door.
The sergeant beat against it with the heavy hilt of his sword. An
aperture was opened, and in it appeared the evil, grinning face of the
jailer.
"What have we here?" he demanded.
"Three prisoners charged with treason," the sergeant replied.
The door was thrown open. There came a last burst of jeers from the
mob; and then the prisoners were inside, and the door had been closed
and bolted again.
The jailer led the way along an evil-smelling hall and threw open
another door.
"In with you!" he directed.
The three prisoners were thrust inside, and this door was closed and
barred. They blinked their eyes in the semigloom. Gradually they made
out two windows, some benches, some human derelicts sprawled against
the walls.
They had not even been given the courtesy of a clean, private room.
Don Carlos and his wife and daughter had been thrust in with the scum
of the _pueblo_, with drunkards and thieves and dishonored women and
insulting natives.
They sat down on a bench in one corner of the room, as far from the
others as possible. And then Doña Catalina and her daughter gave way to
tears, and tears streamed down the face of the aged don as he tried to
comfort them.
"I would to the saints that Don Diego Vega were only my son-in-law
now!" the don breathed.
His daughter pressed his arm.
"Perhaps--my father--a friend will come," she whispered. "Perhaps the
evil man who caused this suffering will be punished!"
For it seemed to the _señorita_ that a vision of Señor Zorro had
appeared before her; and she had great faith in the man to whom she had
given her love.