Americans -- Cuba -- Fiction; Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Fiction
"I wonder what the Governor would say if he could know the thing that
we're about to do," a beardless youth began, as he edged a little nearer
to his mother's side, "I wonder what would happen to us, now, if he
discovered our intention."
The mother only put her finger on her lips and shook her head at him,
but, later on, when they had gone a little further on their journey, she
whispered to him:
"I hope the Governor will never know who did what we're about to do, at
least, for, if he should discover which of us accomplished the purpose
that all the villagers are interested in, we would suffer for our
temerity in doing this ... I almost wish we had not joined this mob, my
boy ... I almost wish, at least, that I had left you home to mind the
house while I will be away from it," and, then, she ended, sadly, "God
knows if we shall ever be allowed to see our home again."
There was one who walked among that little company, that evening, who
was not as the rest in very many ways, and, yet, her lot was cast in
with the rest for she had lived in that small village since her infancy,
and, so, it seemed to her and them as well, that she was one of them
and, so, must be among them even then, when they were casting in their
lots, at Father Felix' instigation, with the ones who so violently
opposed the reigning powers that they were held, then, and had been so
held, for many weary months, as _incommunicado_ in the village jail or
prison in the wide and beautiful and picturesque great prado in the very
centre of the town.
The girl who, in very many ways, was different from all the rest was
walking in the very centre of the little crowd and, as the others
jostled against her, her great blue eyes stared almost vacantly, as it
seemed, around her like a startled fawn's when something unknown
ventures near to its retreat within its native forest.
She drew her slender figure up to its full height, and she was taller
than the rest of those who walked beside her, when someone whispered to
her:
"What think you of all this, Estrella? Is it to your taste to be a part
of those who, in their puny strength, contend against the strong? Do you
think that you'll enjoy the future that we are advancing to? What do you
think will happen to us when we reach the prado, anyway? Do you think
the Governor has found out what we are going to do and if he does what
action will he take? I'm more than half afraid myself ... I don't deny
that I'm afraid ... how do you feel about it all?"
"I don't believe I know just how I _do_ feel, Tessa," said the taller
girl, "I think that I'm afraid, too ... I know my knees are trembling a
very little, so I must be scared the same as you say you are. Let us
keep as close together as we can, so, if anything happens to one it will
be sure to happen to us both ... it seems to me ..." she ended,
dreamily, "that even death itself could not be much worse than the
things that we've endured just lately, here."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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