death, and you know, in sentences for crimes of that nature, the
government is forbidden the right of commuting the penalty.
Denounced, you are taken; taken, you are executed. And I will
denounce you.”
Master as he was of himself, Joam could stand it no longler. He was
about to rush on Torres.
A gesture from the rascal cooled his anger.
“Take care,” said Torres, “your wife knows not that she is the wife
of Joam Dacosta, your children do not know they are the children of
Joam Dacosta, and you are not going to give them the information.”
Joam Garral stopped himself. He regained his usual command over
himself, and his features recovered their habitual calm.
“This discussion has lasted long enough,” said he, moving toward the
door, “and I know what there is left for me to do.”
“Take care, Joam Garral!” said Torres, for the last time, for he
could scarcely believe that his ignoble attempt at extortion had
collapsed.
Joam Garral made him no answer. He threw back the door which opened
under the veranda, made a sign to Torres to follow him, and they
advanced toward the center of the jangada, where the family were
assembled.
Benito, Manoel, and all of them, under a feeling of deep anxiety, had
risen. They could see that the bearing of Torres was still menacing,
and that the fire of anger still shone in his eyes.
In extraordinary contrast, Joam Garral was master of himself, and
almost smiling.
Both of them stopped before Yaquita and her people. Not one dared to
say a word to them.
It was Torres who, in a hollow voice, and with his customary
impudence, broke the painful silence.
“For the last time, Joam Garral,” he said, “I ask you for a last
reply!”
“And here is my reply.”
And addressing his wife:
“Yaquita,” he said, “peculiar circumstances oblige me to alter what
we have formerly decided as to the marriage of Minha and Manoel.”
“At last!” exclaimed Torres.
Joam Garral, without answering him, shot at the adventurer a glance
of the deepest scorn.
But at the words Manoel had felt his heart beat as if it would break.
The girl arose, ashy pale, as if she would seek shelter by the side
of her mother. Yaquita opened her arms to protect, to defend her.
“Father,” said Benito, who had placed himself between Joam Garral and
Torres, “what were you going to say?”
“I was going to say,” answered Joam Garral, raising his voice, “that
to wait for our arrival in Para for the wedding of Minha and Manoel
is to wait too long. The marriage will take place here, not later
than to-morrow, on the jangada, with the aid of Padre Passanha, if,
after a conversation I am about to have with Manoel, he agrees with
me to defer it no longer.”
“Ah, father, father!” exclaimed the young man.
“Wait a little before you call me so, Manoel,” replied Joam, in a
tone of unspeakable suffering.
Here Torres, with crossed arms, gave the whole family a look of
inconceivable insolence.
“So that is you last word?” said he, extending his hand toward Joam
Garral
“No, that is not my last word.”
“What is it, then?”
“This, Torres. I am master here. You will be off, if you please, and
even if you do not please, and leave the jangada at this very
instant!”
“Yes, this instant!” exclaimed Benito, “or I will throw you
overboard.”
Torres shrugged his shoulders.
“No threats,” he said; “they are of no use. It suits me also to land,
and without delay. But you will remember me, Joam Garral. We shall
not be long before we meet.”
“If it only depends on me,” answered Joam Garral, “we shall soon
meet, and rather sooner, perhaps, than you will like. To-morrow I
shall be with Judge Ribeiro, the first magistrate of the province,
whom I have advised of my arrival at Manaos. If you dare, meet me
there!”
“At Judge Ribeiro’s?” said Torres, evidently disconcerted.
“At Judge Ribeiro’s,” answered Joam Garral.
And then, showing the pirogue to Torres, with a gesture of supreme
contempt Joam Garral ordered four of his people to land him without