Caesar or Nothing
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Pio Baroja >> Caesar or Nothing
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"Decide," said Caesar; "I am ready for anything."
Caesar's attitude made the excited ones grow calmer and understand that
it was not so easy to storm the jail.
It was about eleven when the meeting at the tavern ended. They had
decided to wait and see what would happen the next day, and they left
the place one by one.
"We will escort you, Don Caesar," several of them said.
"No. What for?"
"Remember there are people who might attack you. 'Driveller' Juan is at
large in Castro."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"That bully can't do anything to me."
* * * * *
_AT NIGHT_
Caesar went out of the tavern, pulled down his hat, and wrapped himself
in his cape. He had not brought the motor, to avoid being recognized. It
was a cloudy night, but still and beautiful.
Before they got out of the town a small boy came up to Caesar.
"'The Cub-Slut' sent me to tell you to come to her house; she wants to
speak to you."
"I will go tomorrow."
"No. You must come now, because what she has to say is very important,"
shouted the youngster.
"Well, I can't go now."
The youngster protested, and Caesar continued on his way. "Limpy" and
"Uncle Chinaman" followed him. Caesar was walking in the middle of the
highway, when, about half way home, a man on the run passed him. No
doubt he was going to give some signal.
"Limpy" and "Chinaman" shouted over and over:
"Don Caesar! Don Caesar!"
Caesar halted, and "Chinaman" and "Limpy" ran up to him.
"What's going on?" asked Caesar.
"They are lying in wait for you," said "Limpy." "Didn't you see a man go
past running?"
"Yes."
"We are going to stay with you. We will sleep at your house," said
"Chinaman," "and if they attack us, we will defend ourselves."
He showed a pistol which he carried in his sash.
The three walked on together, and as they passed a little grove in front
of the palace, a shadow passed by, crawling, and fled away.
"He was there," said "Chinaman."
They went into the house. Amparito, with the old nurse, was praying
before a lighted image.
XX
CONFIDENCE
_YES, HE IS THE HERO_
When he got up, Caesar found a lot of letters and notices from his
followers all over the district, giving him pointers.
With the help of a manservant who used to go about with him, he himself
got the motor ready and prepared to visit the polls.
As he got into the car, the youngster of the night before appeared with
a letter.
"From 'The Cub-Slut'; please read it right away."
"Give it to me; I will read it."
"She told me you were to read it right away."
"Yes, man, yes."
Caesar took the letter and put it distractedly into his pocket. The
motor started and Caesar did not read the note. At eight in the morning
he was on his way to Cidones. The polls had been established legally.
It was raining gently. As he drew near Cidones, the sun appeared. The
river was turbid and mud-coloured. Thick grey fog-clouds were rolling
about the plain; when they gathered below the hill where Caesar stood,
they gave it the appearance of an island in the middle of the sea. From
the chimneys of the town the smoke came out like hanks of spun silver,
and bells were ringing through this Sunday morning calm.
Caesar stopped at an inn which was a little outside the town. The
blacksmith, an old Liberal, came out to receive him. The old man had
been suffering with rheumatism for some while. "How goes it?" Caesar
asked him.
"Very well. I have been to vote for you."
"And your health?"
"Now that spring is coming, one begins to get better."
"Yes, that is true," said Caesar; "I hadn't noticed that the trees are
in bloom."
"Oh, yes, they are out. In a little while we shall have good weather.
It's a consolation for old folks."
Caesar took leave of the blacksmith and got into the motor.
* * * * *
_CAESAR! CAESAR!_
"Yes, spring is in flower," said Caesar. "I will remove all the
obstacles and men's strength will come to life, which is action. This
town, then others, and finally all Spain.... May nothing remain hidden
or closed up; everything come to life, out into the sunlight. I am a
strong man; I am a man of iron; there are no obstacles for me. The
forces of Nature will assist me. Caesar! I must be Caesar!"
The automobile began to move in a straight line toward Castro.
The ground on both sides of the highway fled away rapidly.
The automobile lessened its pace at the foot of the hill, and began to
climb.
It went in by an old gate in the wall, which was called the Cart Gate.
The street of the same name, a street in the poor suburb, was narrow
and the houses low; it was paved with cobbles. A little farther along
several lanes formed a crossroads.
This was a quarter of brothels and of gipsies who made baskets.
When he reached the crossroads, in the narrowest part there was a cart
blocking the street. The automobile stopped.
"What's the matter?" asked Caesar, standing up.
At that moment two shots rang out, and Caesar fell wounded into the
bottom of the car. The chauffeur saw that the discharges came from the
low windows of a loom, and backing the motor, he returned rapidly,
passed out the Cart Gate, at risk of running into it, went down to the
highway, and drove at high speed to Caesar's house.
A moment later "Driveller" Juan and "Sparkler" came out of the loom and
disappeared down a lane. The judge who went to take depositions learned
from the chauffeur that Caesar had received a letter as he was getting
into the car. He had the wounded man's clothes searched, and they found
"The Cub-Slut's" letter, in which she warned Caesar of the danger he
was in. Fate had kept Caesar from reading it.
* * * * *
_THE RED FLAG_
The news that Caesar was seriously wounded ran through the town like a
train of powder.
A movement of terror shook everybody. "Limpy," "Furibis," and the other
hysterical ones gathered at the tavern and agreed to set fire to the
monastery of la Pena. "Furibis" had arms in his house and divided them
among his comrades. A woman fastened a red rag to a stick, and they left
Castro by different paths and met opposite Cidones.
Nine of them went armed, and various others followed behind.
On reaching Cidones, one of the party advanced up the lane and saw two
pairs of Civil Guards. They discussed what they had better do, and the
majority were in favour of going into Moro's inn, which was at the
entrance to the town, and waiting until night.
They did go in there and told Moro what they had just done. The
inn-keeper listened with simulated approval, and brought them wine. This
Moro was not a very commendable party; he had been convicted for robbery
several times and had a bad reputation.
While the revolutionists were drinking and talking, Moro stole out
without any one's noticing, and went to see the chief of the Civil
Guard, and told him what was going on. "They are armed, then?" asked the
chief.
"Yes."
"And how many are they?"
"Nine with arms."
"We are only five. Do you want to do something?"
"What is it?"
"At dusk we will pass by the inn. I will knock. And you shall say to
them: 'Here is the chief of the Civil Guard; hide your arms.' They will
hide them, and we will arrest them."
"Shall I get something for doing this favour?" asked Moro.
"Naturally."
"What will they give me?"
"You will see."
The ruse worked as they had plotted it; Moro played the comedy to
perfection.
On learning that the chief of the Civil Guard wanted to come in, the
revolutionists, on the landlord's advice, left their arms in the next
room. At the same instant the window panes burst to bits and the
soldiers of the Civil Guard fired three charges from close up. Two women
and four men fell dead; the wounded, among whom was "Limpy," were taken
to the hospital, and only one person was lucky enough to escape.
* * * * *
_FATE_
At the chief headquarters of Moncada's followers, a strange phenomenon
was noticed; on the preceding days they had been chock full; that night
there were not over ten or a dozen men from the Workmen's Club collected
by a table lighted by a petroleum lamp. The pharmacist, Camacho,
presided.
The news of the election was worse every minute. At the last hour the
Padillists, knowing that Moncada was wounded, were behaving horribly. In
the polls at Villamiel the tellers had fled with the blank ballots, and
the Conservative boss arranged the outcome of the election from his
house.
As the teller from Santa Ines, who was a poor Liberal school-master,
was on his way from the hamlet with the papers, six men had seized him,
had snatched the returns from him, changed all the figures, and sent
them to the municipal building at Castro full of blots.
They had fired over twenty shots at the teller for Paralejo. Many
of Moncada's emissaries, on knowing that Caesar was wounded and his
campaign going badly, had passed over to the other party.
Only Moncada could have rallied that flight. His most faithful gave one
another uneasy looks, hoping some one would say: "Come along!" so that
they could all have gone. Camacho alone kept up the spirits of the
meeting.
At nine o'clock at night the chief of police entered the headquarters,
accompanied by two Civil Guards.
"Close up here, please," said the inspector.
"Why?" asked the pharmacist.
"Because I order you to."
"You have no right to order that."
"No? Here, get out, everybody, and _you_ are under arrest."
Those present took to their heels; the pharmacist went to jail to keep
San Roman and Ortigosa company, and the Club was shut up....
* * * * *
The election was won by Padilla.
XXI
OUR VENERABLE TRADITIONS! OUR HOLY PRINCIPLES!
The banquet in honour of Padilla was given at the Cafe del Comercio.
All the important persons of the town, many of whom had been Caesar's
adherents the day before, had gathered to feast the victor. The majority
gorged enthusiastically, the chief of police distinguishing himself by
his hearty applause. A fat lawyer presided, a greasy person with a black
beard, a typical coarse, dirty, tricky Moor. Next to him sat a small
attorney, pock-marked, pale of face. By dessert one no longer heard
anything but cries of "Hurrah for Padilla!" among the smoke of the big
cigars they were all smoking.
Then the lawyer with the black beard arose and began to orate.
He spoke slowly and with great solemnity.
"This meeting shows," he said in a strong and sonorous voice, "your
enthusiasm and your loyalty for the good cause. Never, never will
we permit outsiders devoid of religion and patriotism to upset the
existence of our beloved city." (Applause.) "We will defend our
venerated traditions by all the means in our power; we will not permit
the hydra of anarchy to rise up in Castro; and if it should arise
to attack our holy principles, we shall crush it under our heels."
(Applause.) "When men turn their backs on God, when they preach the
relaxation of discipline, and licentiousness, when they are not willing
to acknowledge any authority, divine or human, then it is time for
decent men to form a bulwark with their breasts, for the defence of
their traditions. We are, before all else, Catholics and Spaniards; and
we will not consent to having Anarchists, Masons, sacrilegious persons
get the mastery of this sacred soil, and wipe out its memories, and spot
the most holy rights of our mother, the Church." (Ovation.)
"Hurrah for Jesus Christ and His Immaculate Church!" shouted a priest, a
bit upset by his wine, in a raucous voice.
Next, the fat, greasy lawyer paraded all the glories of Spain, with
their appropriate adjectives: the Cid, Columbus, Isabella the Catholic,
the Great Captain, Hernan Cortes.... Then a couple of dozen orators
spoke, and the meeting ended very late at night.
CASTRO DURO TODAY
Today Castro Duro has definitely abandoned her intentions of living, and
return to order, as the weekly Conservative paper says; the fountains
have dried, the school been closed, the little trees in Moncada Park
have been pulled up. The people emigrate every year by hundreds. Today a
mill shuts down, tomorrow a house falls in; but Castro Duro continues
to live with her venerated traditions and her holy principles, not
permitting outsiders devoid of religion and patriotism to disturb her
existence, not spotting the most holy rights of the Church, our mother;
enveloped in dust, in dirt, and in filth, asleep in the sun, in the
midst of her grainless fields.
XXII
FINIS GLORIAE MUNDI
_FROM A SOCIETY COLUMN_
To be in Castro Duro and not visit Don Caesar Moncada's house is a
veritable crime of _lese-art_. Senor Moncada, who is a most intelligent
person, has gathered in his aristocratic residence a collection of
precious things, old pictures, antiques, sculptures of the XV and
XVI Centuries, badges of the Inquisition. Senor Moneada has made
a conscientious study of the primitive Castilian painters, and is
certainly the person most at home in that line.
His most beautiful wife, who is also a distinguished artist, has aided
him in forming this collection, and they have both gone about by
automobile through all the towns in this province and the neighbouring
ones, collecting everything artistic they found.
At Don Caesar's house we had the pleasure of greeting the learned
Franciscan Father Martin, to whom the population of Castro Duro owes so
much.
At a halt in the conversation we asked Senor Moncada:
"And you, Don Caesar, have no idea of going back into politics?"
And he answered us, smiling:
"No, no. What for? I am nothing, nothing."
THE END
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