A chorus of protest rose from the civilized world as soon as men learned of this latest assault by a stupidly malignant Government upon the foundation principles of modern liberty. In hugger-mugger Rizal might be snatched away to banishment, but the time had gone by when such things could continue to be hid. It was speedily known throughout Europe that he had been decoyed from Hong-Kong by promises now shown to have been deliberate inventions; that the governor-general had violated his own safe-conduct; that, even if Lucia had possessed a seditious document, proceedings should have lain against her and not against Rizal; that in any society above that of the jungle he would have had a hearing or some form of trial. Some such storm of resentment seems to have been foreseen by Despujol. For the issue of the “Official Gazette” that announced Rizal’s banishment he had prepared a long article defending the Government’s course and describing Rizal as a dangerous person. But he sufficiently betrayed himself by writing to the governor of Santiago prison a personal letter instructing him to take every precaution that Rizal should not see this number of the “Gazette,” and beyond this in cowardice and infamy it seemed hardly possible to go. [172] For three days the victim of the aroused wrath of the governing class lay in prison, being still denied any communication with friend or relative. Then at night he was hustled aboard a steamer and started for Dapitan. So far as we can determine now, even in these conditions he lost nothing of that serenity that has made him so admirable to some investigators and so inexplicable to others. “Sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust” seems to have been literally the state of this brown man from the ends of the earth. Many a white man far less tried might have envied his self-possession. Dwell with some patience and care, if you will, upon this his own record of his arrest and deportation and see if you do not deem this remarkable that in such conditions not a complaint, not a suggestion of resentment or of bitterness, not a hint of fear occurs in his narrative. It is a plain, blunt story written only for his friends. Here if anywhere he would have exhibited wrath; and the story reads with a kind of chill, so perfect is the unconcern. You can hardly say it reads as if it were written about the sufferings of somebody else. For anybody else in the like conditions this man would have made protest. Concerning himself he had nothing to say except to record the facts. Here is what his memorandum says of all this: