Some days later CÆsar was in his office, when a thin old woman, dressed in black, shot in, crossed the room, and fell on her knees before him. CÆsar jumped up in disgust.

“What’s this? What’s going on here?” he asked.

Amparito entered the room and explained what was going on. The old woman was “Driveller” Juan’s mother. People had told Juan’s mother that the only obstacle to her son’s salvation from death was CÆsar, and she had come to implore him not to let them condemn Juan to death.

“My poor son is a good boy,” moaned the old creature; “a woman made him commit the crime.”

CÆsar listened, silent and gloomy, without speaking, and then left the room. Amparito remained with the old woman, consoling her and trying to quiet her.

That night Amparito returned to the task, and dragged the promise from her husband that he would not act as private attorney at the trial.

CÆsar was ashamed and saddened; he didn’t care to go to see anybody; he was committing treason against his cause.

“Pity will finish my work or finish me,” thought CÆsar, walking about his room. “That poor old woman is worthy of compassion; that is undeniable. She believes her son is a good boy, and he really is a low, cowardly ruffian. I ought not to pay any attention to this plea, but insist on their condemning that miserable wretch to death. But I haven’t any more energy; I haven’t any more strength. I can feel that I am going to yield; the mother’s grief moves me, and I do not consider that if this bully goes free, he is going to turn the town upside down and ruin all our work. I am lost.”

FLIGHT

CÆsar confided to his wife that he was daunted; his lack of courage was a nightmare to him.

Amparito said that they ought to take a long trip. Laura had invited them to come to Italy. It was the best thing they could do.

CÆsar accepted her solution, and, as a matter of fact, they went to Madrid and from there to Italy.

The Workmen’s Club telegraphed to CÆsar when the time for the trial came, and Amparito answered the telegram from Florence, saying that her husband was ill.

Never had CÆsar felt so agitated as then. He bought the Spanish newspapers, and expected to find in some one of them the words: “SeÑor Moncada is a coward,” or “SeÑor Moncada is a sorry creature and a traitor.”

When they knew that judgment had been pronounced and Juan condemned to eight years in the penitentiary, they returned to Madrid.

CÆsar felt humiliated and ashamed; he did not dare show himself in Castro. The congratulations that some people sent him on the restoration of his health made his cheeks hot with shame in the solitude of his office.

The editor of a newspaper in the Capital of the Province came to call on CÆsar, who was so dispirited that he confided to his visitor that he was ready to retire from politics. Two days later CÆsar saw a big headline on the first page of the Conservative newspaper of the Capital, which said: “Moncada is about to retire.”

Amparito applauded her husband’s decision, and CÆsar made melancholy plans for the future, founded on the renunciation of all struggle.

A few days later CÆsar received a letter from Castro Duro which made him quiver. It was signed by Dr. Ortigosa, by San RomÁn, Camacho, the apothecary, and the leading members of the Workmen’s Club. The letter was in the doctor’s handwriting. It read thus:

“Dear Sir: We have read in the newspaper from the Capital the announcement that you are thinking of retiring from politics. We believe this announcement is not true. We cannot think that you, the champion of liberty in Castro Duro, would abandon so noble a cause, and leave the town exposed to the intrigues and the evil tricks of the Clericals. There is no question in this of whether it would suit you better to retire from politics, or not. That is of no importance. There is a question of what would suit our country and Liberty better.

“If because of the seductions of an easy life, you should withdraw from us and desert us, you would have committed the crime of lÈse-civilization; you would have slain in its flower the re-birth of the spiritual and civic life of Castro.

“We do not believe you capable of such cowardice and such infamy, and since we do not believe you capable of it, we beg you to come to Castro Duro as soon as possible to direct the approaching municipal elections.—Dr. Ortigosa, Antonio San RomÁn, JosÉ Camacho.”

On reading this letter CÆsar felt as if he had been struck with a whip. Those men were correct; he had no right to retire from the fight.

This conviction supported him.

“I have to go to Castro,” he said to Amparito.

“But didn’t you say that...?”

“Yes, but it is impossible.”

Amparito realized that her husband’s decision was final, and she said:

“All right; let us go to Castro.”