Caesar or Nothing Part 81

The ruse worked as they had plotted it; Moro played the comedy to perfection.

On learning that the chief of the Civil Guard wanted to come in, the revolutionists, on the landlord's advice, left their arms in the next room. At the same instant the window panes burst to bits and the soldiers of the Civil Guard fired three charges from close up. Two women and four men fell dead; the wounded, among whom was "Limpy," were taken to the hospital, and only one person was lucky enough to escape.

_FATE_

At the chief headquarters of Moncada's followers, a strange phenomenon was noticed; on the preceding days they had been chock full; that night there were not over ten or a dozen men from the Workmen's Club collected by a table lighted by a petroleum lamp. The pharmacist, Camacho, presided.

The news of the election was worse every minute. At the last hour the Padillists, knowing that Moncada was wounded, were behaving horribly. In the polls at Villamiel the tellers had fled with the blank ballots, and the Conservative boss arranged the outcome of the election from his house.

As the teller from Santa Ines, who was a poor Liberal school-master, was on his way from the hamlet with the papers, six men had seized him, had s.n.a.t.c.hed the returns from him, changed all the figures, and sent them to the munic.i.p.al building at Castro full of blots.

They had fired over twenty shots at the teller for Paralejo. Many of Moncada's emissaries, on knowing that Caesar was wounded and his campaign going badly, had pa.s.sed over to the other party.

Only Moncada could have rallied that flight. His most faithful gave one another uneasy looks, hoping some one would say: "Come along!" so that they could all have gone. Camacho alone kept up the spirits of the meeting.

At nine o'clock at night the chief of police entered the headquarters, accompanied by two Civil Guards.

"Close up here, please," said the inspector.

"Why?" asked the pharmacist.

"Because I order you to."

"You have no right to order that."

"No? Here, get out, everybody, and _you_ are under arrest."

Those present took to their heels; the pharmacist went to jail to keep San Roman and Ortigosa company, and the Club was shut up....

The election was won by Padilla.

XXI. OUR VENERABLE TRADITIONS! OUR HOLY PRINCIPLES!

The banquet in honour of Padilla was given at the Cafe del Comercio.

All the important persons of the town, many of whom had been Caesar's adherents the day before, had gathered to feast the victor. The majority gorged enthusiastically, the chief of police distinguis.h.i.+ng himself by his hearty applause. A fat lawyer presided, a greasy person with a black beard, a typical coa.r.s.e, dirty, tricky Moor. Next to him sat a small attorney, pock-marked, pale of face. By dessert one no longer heard anything but cries of "Hurrah for Padilla!" among the smoke of the big cigars they were all smoking.

Then the lawyer with the black beard arose and began to orate.

He spoke slowly and with great solemnity.

"This meeting shows," he said in a strong and sonorous voice, "your enthusiasm and your loyalty for the good cause. Never, never will we permit outsiders devoid of religion and patriotism to upset the existence of our beloved city." (Applause.) "We will defend our venerated traditions by all the means in our power; we will not permit the hydra of anarchy to rise up in Castro; and if it should arise to attack our holy principles, we shall crush it under our heels."

(Applause.) "When men turn their backs on G.o.d, when they preach the relaxation of discipline, and licentiousness, when they are not willing to acknowledge any authority, divine or human, then it is time for decent men to form a bulwark with their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, for the defence of their traditions. We are, before all else, Catholics and Spaniards; and we will not consent to having Anarchists, Masons, sacrilegious persons get the mastery of this sacred soil, and wipe out its memories, and spot the most holy rights of our mother, the Church." (Ovation.)

"Hurrah for Jesus Christ and His Immaculate Church!" shouted a priest, a bit upset by his wine, in a raucous voice.

Next, the fat, greasy lawyer paraded all the glories of Spain, with their appropriate adjectives: the Cid, Columbus, Isabella the Catholic, the Great Captain, Hernan Cortes.... Then a couple of dozen orators spoke, and the meeting ended very late at night.

CASTRO DURO TODAY

Today Castro Duro has definitely abandoned her intentions of living, and return to order, as the weekly Conservative paper says; the fountains have dried, the school been closed, the little trees in Moncada Park have been pulled up. The people emigrate every year by hundreds. Today a mill shuts down, tomorrow a house falls in; but Castro Duro continues to live with her venerated traditions and her holy principles, not permitting outsiders devoid of religion and patriotism to disturb her existence, not spotting the most holy rights of the Church, our mother; enveloped in dust, in dirt, and in filth, asleep in the sun, in the midst of her grainless fields.

XXII. FINIS GLORIae MUNDI. _FROM A SOCIETY COLUMN_

To be in Castro Duro and not visit Don Caesar Moncada's house is a veritable crime of _lese-art_. Senor Moncada, who is a most intelligent person, has gathered in his aristocratic residence a collection of precious things, old pictures, antiques, sculptures of the XV and XVI Centuries, badges of the Inquisition. Senor Moneada has made a conscientious study of the primitive Castilian painters, and is certainly the person most at home in that line.

His most beautiful wife, who is also a distinguished artist, has aided him in forming this collection, and they have both gone about by automobile through all the towns in this province and the neighbouring ones, collecting everything artistic they found.

At Don Caesar's house we had the pleasure of greeting the learned Franciscan Father Martin, to whom the population of Castro Duro owes so much.

At a halt in the conversation we asked Senor Moncada:

"And you, Don Caesar, have no idea of going back into politics?"

And he answered us, smiling:

"No, no. What for? I am nothing, nothing."

THE END