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Updated: June 12, 2025
But, as if by a refinement of cruelty, Dr. Monygham was left for months to decay slowly in the darkness of his grave-like prison. It was no doubt hoped that it would finish him off without the trouble of an execution; but Dr. Monygham had an iron constitution. It was Guzman Bento who died, not by the knife thrust of a conspirator, but from a stroke of apoplexy, and Dr.
The crowns of the trees, a hundred feet or more over our heads, were so closely interwoven that it was difficult to distinguish the birds the practised eye of Bento, however, made them out, and a fine male was shot from the flock, the rest flying away and alighting at no great distance.
Bento, who has some knowledge of medicine, is attending him." Hal hurried to the room upstairs where Chester had been carried. Chester, lying in bed, greeted him with a smile. "You certainly have all the luck!" he exclaimed. "Here I was unable to walk while you were doing all the fighting." "Never mind that," replied Hal. "How do you feel? Are you in pain?" "Not much, now," was the reply.
Guzman Bento, usually full of fanciful fears and brooding suspicions, had sudden accesses of unreasonable self-confidence when he perceived himself elevated on a pinnacle of power and safety beyond the reach of mere mortal plotters. At such times he would impulsively command the celebration of a solemn Mass of thanksgiving, which would be sung in great pomp in the cathedral of Sta.
He remembered him against all the force of his will striving its utmost to forget. Father Beron had been adjoined to the commission by Guzman Bento expressly for the purpose that his enlightened zeal should assist them in their labours. Dr.
But though wisdom urged discretion, a blue eye and a furtive dimple beckoned. When morning came, he straightened his stiff legs and, picking his way through the wooden sandals that cluttered the aisle, went out to the small platform. The train had stopped at a village, and a boy with a tray suspended from his shoulders, bearing boxes of native food, was howling dismally: "Bento! Eo Bento!"
We convulsed a continent for our independence only to become the passive prey of a democratic parody, the helpless victims of scoundrels and cut-throats, our institutions a mockery, our laws a farce a Guzman Bento our master!
I suppose you would have stuck a knife into Guzman Bento?" She interrupted him. "You do me too much honour." "At any rate," he said, changing suddenly to a tone of bitter levity, "you would have sent me to stab him without compunction." "Ah, par exemple!" she murmured in a shocked tone. "Well," he argued, mockingly, "you do keep me here writing deadly nonsense. Deadly to me!
Vague plans of another historical work, wherein all the devotions to the regeneration of the country he loved would be enshrined for the reverent worship of posterity, flitted through his mind. The historian who had enough elevation of soul to write of Guzman Bento: "Yet this monster, imbrued in the blood of his countrymen, must not be held unreservedly to the execration of future years.
He had been one of the frequenters of the Casa Gould, where he had aired his Blanco convictions and his ardour for reform before Don Jose Avellanos, casting frank, honest glances towards Mrs. Gould and Antonia the while. He was known to belong to a good family persecuted and impoverished during the tyranny of Guzman Bento.
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