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Updated: May 16, 2025
All who had known President Olivarra saw again his same lion-like pose, the same frank, undaunted expression, the same high forehead with the peculiar line of the clustering, crisp black hair. General Pilar was an experienced orator. He seized the moment of breathless silence that preceded the storm.
And then Ramon Olivarra stepped forward and took both her hands before all the people. And while the cheering was breaking out afresh everywhere, Captain Cronin and Mr. Vincenti turned and walked back toward the shore where the gig was waiting for them. "There'll be another 'presidente proclamada' in the morning," said Mr. Vincenti, musingly.
Half rising, he extended one arm toward the speaker, and shouted a harsh command at Captain Cruz. The leader of the "Flying Hundred" sat his horse, immovable, with folded arms, giving no sign of having heard. Losada sank back again, his dark features distinctly paling. "Who says that Olivarra is dead?" suddenly cried the speaker, his voice, old as he was, sounding like a battle trumpet.
A faction of the Liberal party led by Losada himself had been accused of the deed. Whether guilty or not, it was eight years before the ambitious and scheming Losada had gained his goal. Upon this theme General Pilar's eloquence was loosed. He drew the picture of the beneficent Olivarra with a loving hand.
Captain Cronin had been intently watching the vicinity of the stone steps for some time. "Good boy!" he exclaimed suddenly, as if relieved. "I wondered if he was going to forget his Kathleen Mavourneen." Young Olivarra had reascended the steps and spoken a few words to General Pilar.
He reminded the people of the peace, the security and the happiness they had enjoyed during that period. He recalled in vivid detail and with significant contrast the last winter sojourn of President Olivarra in Coralio, when his appearance at their fiestas was the signal for thundering vivas of love and approbation. The first public expression of sentiment from the people that day followed.
"Citizens of Anchuria," he trumpeted, holding aloft the keys to Casa Morena, "I am here to deliver these keys the keys to your homes and liberty to your chosen president. Shall I deliver them to Enrico Olivarra's assassin, or to his son?" "Olivarra! Olivarra!" the crowd shrieked and howled. All vociferated the magic name men, women, children and the parrots.
But Ramon Olivarra seized that moment to prove himself a born genius and politician. He waved those soldiers aside, and descended the steps to the street.
"It still blows," cried the speaker, exultantly. "Citizens of Anchuria, give thanks to the saints this night that our air is still free." Thus disposing of Losada's administration, he abruptly reverted to that of Olivarra, Anchuria's most popular ruler. Olivarra had been assassinated nine years before while in the prime of life and usefulness.
"Friends and brothers," General Pilar was saying, "could I reach out my hand this day across the lamentable silence of the grave to Olivarra 'the Good, to the ruler who was one of you, whose tears fell when you sorrowed, and whose smile followed your joy I would bring him back to you, but Olivarra is dead dead at the hands of a craven assassin!"
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