The Plaza was partially cleared--the open space guarded by lines of
soldiers. The crowds, closely packed, stood along the sides of the
houses, or filled the balconies and azoteas. The officers, alcalde,
magistrates, and principal men of the town, were grouped near the centre
of the Plaza. Most of these wore official costumes, and, under other
circumstances, the eyes of the crowd would have been upon _them_. Not
so now. There was a group more attractive than they--a group upon which
every eye was gazing with intense interest.
This group occupied a corner of the Plaza in front of the Calabozo,
directly in front of the window from which Carlos looked out. It was
the first thing upon which his eyes rested. He saw no more--he saw not
the crowd, nor the line of soldiers that penned it back--he saw not the
gaudy gentry in the square; he saw only that group of beings before him.
That was enough to keep his eyes from wandering.
The group was thus composed. There were two asses--small shaggy brown
animals,--caparisoned in a covering of coarse black serge, that hung
nearly to their feet. Each had a coarse hair halter held in the hand of
a lepero driver, also fantastically dressed in the same black stuff.
Behind each stood a lepero similarly attired, and carrying "cuartos" of
buffalo-skin. By the side of each ass was one of the padres of the
mission, and each of these held in his hand the implements of his
trade--book, rosary, and crucifix. The priests wore an official look.
They were in the act of officiating. At what? Listen!
The asses were mounted. On the back of each was a form--a human form.
These sat not freely, but in constrained attitudes. The feet were drawn
underneath by cords passed around the ankles; and to a sort of wooden
yoke around the necks of the animals the hands of the riders were tied--
so as to bring their backs into a slanting position. In this way their
heads hung down, and their faces, turned to the wall, could not yet be
seen by the crowd.
Both were nude to the waist, and below it. The eye needed but one
glance at those forms to tell they were women! The long loose hair--in
the one grey, in the other golden--shrouding their cheeks, and hanging
over the necks of the animals, was further proof of this. For one it
was not needed. The outlines were those of a Venus. A sculptor's eye
could not have detected a fault. In the form of the other, age had
traced its marks. It was furrowed, angled, lean, and harsh to the eye
of the observer.
Oh, God! what a sight for the eye of Carlos the cibolero! Those
involuntary riders _were his mother and sister_!
And just at that moment his eye rested upon them--ay, and recognised
them at a glance. An arrow passing through his heart could not have
inflicted keener pain. A sharp, half-stifled scream escaped his lips--
the only sign of suffering the ear might detect. He was silent from
that moment. His hard quick breathing alone told that he lived. He did
not faint or fall. He did not retreat from the window. He stood like a
statue in the position he had first taken, hugging the wall with his
breast, to steady himself. His eyes remained fixed on the group, and
fixed too in their sockets, as if glued there!
Roblado and Vizcarra, in the centre of the square, enjoyed their
triumph. They saw him at the embrasure. He saw not them. He had for
the moment forgotten that they existed.
At a signal the bell rang in the tower of the parroquia, and then
ceased. This was the cue for commencing the horrid ceremony.
The black drivers led their animals from the wall, and, heading them in
a direction parallel to one side of the Plaza, stood still. The faces
of the women were now turned partially to the crowd, but their
dishevelled hair sufficiently concealed them. The padres approached.
Each selected one. They mumbled a few unintelligible phrases in the
ears of their victims, flourished the crucifix before their faces, and
then, retiring a step, muttered some directions to the two ruffians in
the rear.
These with ready alacrity took up their cue, gathered the thick ends of
their cuartos around their wrists, and plied the lash upon the naked
hacks of the women. The strokes were deliberate and measured--they were
counted! Each seemed to leave its separate weal upon the skin. Upon
the younger female they were more conspicuous--not that they had been
delivered with greater severity, but upon the softer, whiter, and more
tender skin, the purple lines appeared plainer by contrast.
Strange that neither cried out. The girl writhed, and uttered a low
whimpering, but no scream escaped her lips. As for the old woman, she
remained quite motionless--no sign told that she suffered!
When ten lashes each had been administered, a voice from the centre of
the Plaza cried out--
"_Basta por la nina_!" (Enough for the girl.)
The crowd echoed this; and he, whose office it was to flog the younger
female, rolled up his cuarto and desisted. The other went on until
twenty-five lashes were told off.
A band of music now struck up. The asses were d along the side of the
square, and halted at the next corner.
The music stopped. The padres again went through their mumbling
ceremony. The executioners performed their part--only one of them this
time--as by the voice of the crowd the younger female was spared the
lash, though she was still kept in her degraded and shameful position.
The full measure of twenty-five stripes was administered to the other,
and then again the music, and the procession moved on to the third angle
of the Plaza. Here the horrid torture was repeated, and again at the
fourth and last corner of the square, where the hundred lashes--the full
number decreed as the punishment--were completed.
The ceremony was over. The crowd gathered around the victims--who, now
released from official keeping, were left to themselves.
The feeling of the crowd was curiosity, not sympathy. Notwithstanding
all that had passed before their eyes, there was but little sympathy in
the hearts of that rabble.
Fanaticism is stronger than pity; and who cared for the witch and the
heretic?
Yes--there were some who cared yet. There were hands that unbound the
cords, and chafed the brows of the sufferers, and flung rebosos over
their shoulders and poured water into the lips of those silent victims--
silent, for both had fainted!
A rude carreta was there. How it came there no one knew or cared. It
was getting dusk, and people, having satisfied their curiosity, and
hungry from long fasting, were falling off to their homes. The brawny
driver of the carreta, directed by a young girl, and aided by two or
three dusky Indians, lifted the sufferers into his vehicle, and then,
mounting himself, drove off; while the young girl, and two or three who
had assisted him, followed the vehicle.
It cleared the suburbs, and, striking into a byroad that traversed the
chapparal, arrived at a lone rancho, the same where Rosita had been
taken before--for it was Josefa who again carried her away.
The sufferers were taken inside the house. It was soon perceived that
one no longer suffered. The daughter was restored to consciousness,
only to see that that of her mother had for ever fled!
Her temples were chafed--her lips moistened--her hand pressed in vain.
The wild utterance of a daughter's grief fell unheard upon her ears.
Death had carried her spirit to another world.