"Well, my nephew is all that! Ah! if he were alone in Orbajosa--but no, child. My nephew, through a series of fatalities, which are trials, the transitory evils that God permits for our chastisement, is equivalent to an army; is equivalent to the authority of the government; equivalent to the alcalde; equivalent to the judge. My nephew is not my nephew; he is the official nation, Remedios--that second nation composed of the scoundrels who govern in Madrid, and who have made themselves masters of its material strength; of that apparent nation--for the real nation is the one that is silent, that pays and suffers; of that fictitious nation that signs decrees and pronounces discourses and makes a farce of government, and a farce of authority, and a farce of every thing. That is what my nephew is to-day; you must accustom yourself to look under the surface of things. My nephew is the government, the brigadier, the new alcalde, the new judge--for they all protect him, because of the unanimity of their ideas; because they are chips of the same block, birds of a feather. Understand it well; we must defend ourselves against them all, for they are all one, and one is all; we must attack them all together; and not by beating a man as he turns a corner, but as our forefathers attacked the Moors--the Moors, Remedios. Understand this well, child; open your understanding and allow an idea that is not vulgar to enter it--rise above yourself; think lofty thoughts, Remedios!"
Don Inocencio's niece was struck dumb by so much loftiness of soul. She opened her mouth to say something that should be in consonance with so sublime an idea, but she only breathed a sigh.
"Like the Moors," repeated Dona Perfecta. "It is a question of Moors and Christians. And did you suppose that by giving a fright to my nephew all would be ended? How foolish you are! Don't you see that his friends support him? Don't you see that you are at the mercy of that rabble? Don't you see that any little lieutenant can set fire to my house, if he takes it into his head to do so? But don't you know this?
Don't you comprehend that it is necessary to go to the bottom of things? Don't you comprehend how vast, how tremendous is the power of my enemy, who is not a man, but a sect? Don't you comprehend that my nephew, as he confronts me to-day, is not a calamity, but a plague?
Against this plague, dear Remedios, we shall have here a battalion sent by God that will annihilate the infernal militia from Madrid. I tell you that this is going to be great and glorious."
"If it were at last so!"
"But do you doubt it? To-day we shall see terrible things here," said Dona Perfecta, with great impatience. "To-day, to-day! What o'clock is it? Seven? So late, and nothing has happened!"
"Perhaps my uncle has heard something; he is here now, I hear him coming upstairs."
"Thank God!" said Dona Perfecta, rising to receive the Penitentiary.
"He will have good news for us."
Don Inocencio entered hastily. His altered countenance showed that his soul, consecrated to religion and to the study of the classics, was not as tranquil as usual.
"Bad news!" he said, laying his hat on a chair and loosening the cords of his cloak.
Dona Perfecta turned pale.
"They are arresting people," added Don Inocencio, lowering his voice, as if there was a soldier hidden under every chair. "They suspect, no doubt, that the people here would not put up with their high-handed measures, and they have gone from house to house, arresting all who have a reputation for bravery."
Dona Perfecta threw herself into an easy chair and clutched its arms convulsively.
"It remains to be seen whether they have allowed themselves to be arrested," observed Remedios.
"Many of them have--a great many of them," said Don Inocencio, with an approving look, addressing Dona Perfecta, "have had time to escape, and have gone with arms and horses to Villahorrenda."
"And Ramos?"
"They told me in the cathedral that he is the one they are looking for most eagerly. Oh, my God! to arrest innocent people in that way, who have done nothing yet. Well, I don't know how good Spaniards can have patience under such treatment. Senora Dona Perfecta, when I was telling you about the arrests, I forgot to say that you ought to go home at once."
"Yes, I will go at once. Have those bandits searched my house?"
"It is possible. Senora, we have fallen upon evil days," said Don Inocencio, in solemn and feeling accents. "May God have pity upon us!"
"There are half a dozen well-armed men in my house," responded the lady, greatly agitated. "What iniquity! Would they be capable of wanting to carry them off too?"
