"
"Tyrants! greater tyrants were never born," said the other. "When I say
that it is through punctilio that I am not with the Aceros!"
"And what news is there of Francisco Acero?" asked Dona Perfecta gently.
"I should be sorry if any mischance were to happen to him. Tell me, Don
Inocencio, was not Francisco Acero born in Orbajosa?"
"No; he and his brother are from Villajuan."
"I am sorry for it, for Orbajosa's sake," said Dona Perfecta. "This poor
city has fallen into misfortune. Do you know if Francisco Acero gave
his word to the governor not to trouble the poor soldiers in their
abductions, in their impious deeds, in their sacrilegious acts, in their
villanies?"
Caballuco sprang from his chair. He felt himself now not stung, but
cut to the quick by a cruel stroke, like that of a sabre. With his face
burning and his eyes flashing fire he cried:
"I gave my word to the governor because the governor told me that they
had come for a good purpose."
"Barbarian, don't shout! Speak like other people, and we will listen to
you."
"I promised that neither I nor any of my friends would raise guerillas
in the neighborhood of Orbajosa. To those who wanted to take up arms
because they were itching to fight I said: 'Go to the Aceros, for here
we won't stir.' But I have a good many honest men, yes, senora; and true
men, yes, senora; and valiant men, yes, senora; scattered about in the
hamlets and villages and in the suburbs and the mountains, each in his
own house, eh? And so soon as I say a quarter of a word to them, eh?
they will be taking down their guns, eh? and setting out on horseback
or on foot, for whatever place I tell them. And don't keep harping on
words, for if I gave my word it was because I don't wish to fight; and
if I want guerillas there will be guerillas; and if I don't there won't,
for I am who I am, the same man that I always was, as every one knows
very well. And I say again don't keep harping on words, eh? and don't
let people say one thing to me when they mean another, eh? and if people
want me to fight, let them say so plainly, eh? for that is what God has
given us tongues for, to say this thing or that. The mistress knows very
well who I am, as I know that I owe to her the shirt on my back, and the
bread I eat to-day, and the first pea I sucked after I was weaned, and
the coffin in which my father was buried when he died, and the medicines
and the doctor that cured me when I was sick; and the m
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