dly; he seized every opportunity to tell her that though she
had managed to make a Blanco journalist of him, he was no patriot. First
of all, the word had no sense for cultured minds, to whom the narrowness
of every belief is odious; and secondly, in connection with the
everlasting troubles of this unhappy country it was hopelessly
besmirched; it had been the cry of dark barbarism, the cloak of
lawlessness, of crimes, of rapacity, of simple thieving.

He was surprised at the warmth of his own utterance. He had no need
to drop his voice; it had been low all the time, a mere murmur in the
silence of dark houses with their shutters closed early against the
night air, as is the custom of Sulaco. Only the sala of the Casa Gould
flung out defiantly the blaze of its four windows, the bright appeal of
light in the whole dumb obscurity of the street. And the murmur on the
little balcony went on after a short pause.

"But we are labouring to change all that," Antonia protested. "It is
exactly what we desire. It is our object. It is the great cause. And
the word you despise has stood also for sacrifice, for courage, for
constancy, for suffering. Papa, who--"

"Ploughing the sea," interrupted Decoud, looking down.

There was below the sound of hasty and ponderous footsteps.

"Your uncle, the grand-vicar of the cathedral, has just turned under the
gate," observed Decoud. "He said Mass for the troops in the Plaza this
morning. They had built for him an altar of drums, you know. And they
brought outside all the painted blocks to take the air. All the wooden
saints stood militarily in a row at the top of the great flight of
steps. They looked like a gorgeous escort attending the Vicar-General. I
saw the great function from the windows of the Porvenir. He is amazing,
your uncle, the last of the Corbelans. He glittered exceedingly in his
vestments with a great crimson velvet cross down his back. And all the
time our saviour Barrios sat in the Amarilla Club drinking punch at
an open window. Esprit fort--our Barrios. I expected every moment your
uncle to launch an excommunication there and then at the black eye-patch
in the window across the Plaza. But not at all. Ultimately the troops
marched off. Later Barrios came down with some of the officers, and
stood with his uniform all unbuttoned, discoursing at the edge of the
pavement. Suddenly your uncle appeared, no longer glittering, but all
black, at the cathedral door with that threate