Several caballeros heard that statement, for Garabito had raised his voice. Rodrigo Ruiz heard it, and he half drew his blade from its scabbard to defend the reputation of his friend, but a comrade grasped him by the arm and whispered two things—that the governor's edict was still in force, and that Bartolmeo Botello desired to handle his own quarrels.
Moreover, Botello himself heard it, even as he stepped before Señorita Inez and bowed his best and wished her an excellent day: his face did not change color and his hand did not touch the hilt of his weapon; only by a quick narrowing of the eyes did he show that he had observed the words and the speaker.
So, when old Malpartida turned his back on Señor Garabito and faced his daughter again, it was a smiling and courteous Botello who spoke to him, bowed low, and stepped back. And Malpartida, his daughter clinging to his arm and wishing she dared look back, and with the duenna tripping along behind, walked across the plaza toward the governor's house, his head held high, like the grandee he was in reality.
Botello turned aside with Ruiz, not once looking in Garabito's direction, for there remained some ladies in the plaza, and it was not the proper time to settle differences or pick a quarrel. Near one end of the church wall they stood to watch men flinging the dice, Botello laughing as loud as any at the mishaps of the unlucky ones.
"Did you not hear?" Ruiz asked, under his breath.
"I heard, my friend," Botello answered.
"With what result?"
"We shall see that presently."
"It is a pretty pass, Bartolmeo. Here he has dared defy you, and you cannot call him to account for it without defying the governor," Ruiz said.
"Perchance he thought of that when he dared show himself in the plaza."
"Moreover, he is one of his excellency's closest friends. To quarrel with him may go hard with you."
"Yet there must be some justice, even in such a governor as this we have. This is the year fifteen hundred and fifteen, my friend, an enlightened age."
"I pick no quarrel with the age, Bartolmeo. But there be men living in it—"
"Who should cease to live—I agree with you!"
"You'd not dare—"
"The pretty caballero has gone too far, I vow. Lying braggart, eh? By the saints—"
"But, if you run him through—"
"It remains to be seen what may happen, good Rodrigo. Let us not concern ourselves with it until after all the ladies have left the plaza."
Rodrigo Ruiz glanced around, and then plucked quickly at his friend's tattered sleeve.
"The cowardly knave has taken advantage of that, also," he said. "First, he believes himself safe because of his excellency's edict, and now he knows you will start no quarrel while there are ladies near. So he swaggers across the plaza toward the governor's house, timing himself to arrive as the last of the ladies are leaving the plaza. He can say he defied you and suffered no harm, not even a word!"
"Hah!" Botello roared, and whirled in turn. Ruiz, he saw, had spoken truth. Garabito was swaggering across the plaza, affecting nonchalance, and he would reach the doors of the governor's house as the last of the señores and señoritas disappeared.
Now Botello sprang forward and walked with great strides to intercept his foe, and men ceased throwing the dice to watch, and from all quarters caballeros sauntered forward, anticipating a sensation and a break in the monotony of Antigua.
"A moment, Señor Garabito!" Botello called.
Garabito looked over his shoulder, slackened his stride, stopped with his hand on the arm of his friend, for such a loud summons could not be ignored unless a charge of cowardice stood.
"Well, señor?" he asked, his lip curling in a sneer, and still twirling the silk handkerchief.
"I apprehend you, señor," Botello said, in a smooth voice, "to change my orders somewhat. Yesterday I told you to remain away from the plaza at any hour when decent folk were abroad. Now I must request that you remain in it, at least until the ladyfolk have entered their houses."
"Indeed, señor? And wherefore?"
"That it will not be necessary for me to call you to account in the presence of gentle nerves that cannot endure a quarrel. Also to prove to these caballeros and myself that you are not purposely quitting the plaza too quickly to avoid any consequences that may be coming to you."
"You question my courage, señor?" Garabito thundered.
"I do not admit, señor, that you have any to question."
"This is not to be endured!"
"Yet, perforce, you endure it!"
"’Tis beneath my dignity as a caballero and a friend of His Majesty. Ferdinand—whom God preserve—to exchange words with such as you. In Seville—"
"’Tis not Seville, señor, but Antigua, that is cursed with your presence at this time. Were it not that I feel called upon to protect honest folk, it would be beneath my dignity to address you."
"Dignity—in rags?" Garabito scoffed.
"Si, señor! Dignity in rags! There you may mark the true caballero, when his dignity is to be observed through his rags—not that I seek to praise myself, but to damn you more! I count it dignity, señor, to have followed the intrepid De Balboa across the jungle to the Great South Sea, which, I believe, you never have set your eyes upon. My tatters were gained in the service of Spain, señor, and that same king whom you but now wished God to preserve. What hard spots are on my hands came from wielding blade, perhaps, and not from twirling a handkerchief!"
"You are modest concerning yourself!" Garabito observed.
"There was a method in it, señor. Self praise is repugnant to me, but I could think of no other subject quickly. My oratory, you will observe, has served to hold you here until the last of the ladies are gone. If you look about, you will see that the plaza is free of femininity now. My object has been served."
Garabito snarled as a rapid glance around the plaza proved the truth of Botello's words.
"Now—to business, señor!" Botello went on. "Yesterday I told you not to show your face on the plaza at this hour. You have seen fit to disobey my orders."
"Where get you authority to issue such orders, señor? Are you governor, by any chance?"
"The saints forbid! I have useful work to do."
"Is this treason?"
"Let us not change the subject," Botello persisted. "I say you disobeyed my orders."
There was silence then for a moment, while Garabito sputtered in his sudden burst of rage, for he could restrain himself no longer before this man.
"Were it not for his excellency's edict. I'd run you through for the fool you are!" he exclaimed.
"His excellency's edict serves to protect his excellency's friends, I observe. I never yet have been run through, señor; it would be a new experience."
"Boaster!"
"Merely another score to settle—that! Why did you disobey my orders?"
"I failed to see your authority to issue them," Garabito said. "And since I have disobeyed what you please to term your orders, what is your pleasure in the matter?"
"For disobeying, a tweak of the nose is enough to show how I regard you, señor!"
Even as he spoke, Botello reached forward quickly and grasped Pasqual Garabito's prominent nose between his strong fingers. He tweaked. Garabito's head was jerked forward and tears sprang into his eyes. He shrieked his rage as Botello released