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In a quivering voice Pierre was bold enough to answer: "I look for some kindness and justice." A pale smile, instinct with proud humility, arose to the Dominican's lips. "Be without fear," he replied, "God has ever deigned to enlighten me in the discharge of my modest duties.
"Are the Senator's coffers full? But that is impossible." "Bare as a Dominican's." "We are saved, then. He shall name his price for our heads. Money must be more useful to him than blood." And as if with that thought all further meditation were rendered unnecessary, Montreal doffed his mantle, uttered a short prayer, and flung himself on a pallet in a corner of the cell.
The thin Franciscan, understanding the Dominican's smile, decided to intervene and stop the argument. He was undoubtedly respected, for with a wave of his hand he cut short the speech of both at the moment when the friar-artilleryman was talking about experience and the journalist-friar about scientists.
He was in the clasp of the Grand Inquisitor himself, the venerable Pedro Arbuez d'Espila who gazed at him with tearful eyes, like a good shepherd who had found his stray lamb. The dark-robed priest pressed the hapless Jew to his heart with so fervent an outburst of love, that the edges of the monochal haircloth rubbed the Dominican's breast.
Then he broke off the interview by rising, and Pierre was obliged to do the same. The Dominican's words were virtually identical with those that had fallen from Monsignor Fornaro, but they were spoken with cutting frankness, a sort of tranquil bravery. On all sides Pierre came into collision with the same anonymous force, the same powerful engine whose component parts sought to ignore one another.
This may very well have been effected during the reign of Lodovico's son Maximilian, who was restored to his father's throne in 1512, and would explain the uncertainty which has always existed at Loches as to the Moro's grave, and the absence of any inscription to mark his burial-place. For Lodovico's sake, let us hope, the good Dominican's story is true.
"Nay, reverend father," said Dwining, "you take me at too great advantage. I said I could do no miracles, and was about to add that, as the church certainly could work such conclusions, those rich beads should be deposited in your hands, to be applied as they may best benefit the soul of the deceased." He dropped the beads into the Dominican's hand, and escaped from the house of mourning.
Only I fear that they won't believe in your existence." "I fear the same," returned Isagani, shaking the Dominican's hand. "I fear that my friends will not believe in your existence, as you have revealed yourself to me today." Considering the interview at an end, the young man took his leave.
When the amount of sugar produced in little Porto Rico is compared with that grown in Santo Domingo, it is evident that the Dominican production might easily be increased to twenty times its present figure. While sugar attracts the foreigner, the Dominican's favorite staple has been cacao.
"Che peccato!" and the like, with fine shades of difference in expression according to the dark, the denser dark, the lurid flashes of the Dominican's chiaroscuro. This hireling shepherd piled up a hideous indictment, made up, as the reader will perceive, out of his own wicked imagination. I was a runaway from the Venetian galleys, an actor of execrable life.
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