The curate then demanded what religion he professed? and whether he was a Mohometan, or freemason? and received for answer that he was a Roman Catholic.I must here state, that Victoriano, though sufficiently shrewd in his way, was a poor old labourer of sixty-four; and until that moment had never heard either of Mahometans or freemasons.The curate becoming now incensed, called him a TUNANTE or scoundrel, and added, you have sold your soul to a heretic; we have long been aware of your proceedings, and those of your master.You are the same Lopez, whom he last year rescued from the prison of Villallos, in the province of Avila; I sincerely hope that he will attempt to do the same thing here."Yes, yes," shouted the rest of the conclave, "let him but venture here, and we will shed his heart's blood on our stones." In this manner they went on for nearly half an hour.At last they broke up the meeting, and conducted Victoriano once more to his prison.
During his confinement he lived tolerably well, being in possession of money.His meals were sent him twice a day from the posada, where his pony remained in embargo.Once or twice he asked permission of the alcalde, who visited him every night and morning with his armed guard, to purchase pen and paper, in order that he might write to Madrid; but this favour was peremptorily refused him, and all the inhabitants of the village were forbidden under terrible penalties to afford him the means of writing, or to convey any message from him beyond the precincts of the place, and two boys were stationed before the window of his cell for the purpose of watching everything which might be conveyed to him.
It happened one day that Victoriano, being in need of a pillow, sent word to the people of the posada to send him his alforjas or saddlebags, which they did.In these bags there chanced to be a kind of rope, or, as it is called in Spanish, SOGA, with which he was in the habit of fastening his satchel to the pony's back.The urchins seeing an end of this rope, hanging from the alforjas, instantly ran to the alcalde to give him information.Late at evening, the alcalde again visited the prisoner at the head of his twelve men as usual."BUENASNOCHES," said the alcalde."BUENAS NOCHES TENGA USTED,"replied Victoriano."For what purpose did you send for the soga this afternoon?" demanded the functionary."I sent for no soga," said the prisoner, "I sent for my alforjas to serve as a pillow, and it was sent in them by chance." "You are a false malicious knave," retorted the alcalde; "you intend to hang yourself, and by so doing ruin us all, as your death would be laid at our door.Give me the soga." No greater insult can be offered to a Spaniard than to tax him with an intention of committing suicide.Poor Victoriano flew into a violent rage, and after calling the alcalde several very uncivil names, he pulled the soga from his bags, flung it at his head, and told him to take it home and use it for his own neck.
At length the people of the posada took pity on the prisoner, perceiving that he was very harshly treated for no crime at all; they therefore determined to afford him an opportunity of informing his friends of his situation, and accordingly sent him a pen and inkhorn, concealed in a loaf of bread, and a piece of writing paper, pretending that the latter was intended for cigars.So Victoriano wrote the letter; but now ensued the difficulty of sending it to its destination, as no person in the village dare have carried it for any reward.
The good people, however, persuaded a disbanded soldier from another village, who chanced to be at Fuente la Higuera in quest of work, to charge himself with it, assuring him that Iwould pay him well for his trouble.The man, watching his opportunity, received the letter from Victoriano at the window:
