Josephe said: “Then you will surely, Donna Elisabeth, take back this little darling, who as you can see, has once again crawled into my arms.” “Very gladly,” replied Donna Elisabeth, and reached out to grab him; but the child protested bitterly against this injustice and would under no circumstances let go, so Josephe said with a smile that she would keep him after all and coaxed him with kisses into silence. Hereupon, Don Fernando, who was very touched by her great dignity and grace, offered her his arm; Jeronimo, who was carrying little Philip, led Donna Constanza; all the other members of the group followed; and in this order they headed back into the city.

They had walked no more than fifty paces when they heard Donna Elisabeth, who had in the meantime engaged in a heated, furtive exchange with Donna Elvira, cry out: “Don Fernando!” and followed the agitation of her tongue with restless steps. Don Fernando stopped and turned around, awaiting her, without letting go of Josephe’s arm; and since Donna Elisabeth herself stopped a fair distance away, as though she expected him to advance toward her, he asked what she wished of him. Hereupon, the latter approached him, albeit, so it seemed, with a certain hesitation, and whispered a few words in his hear, so softly that Josephe could not hear them. “What of it?” asked Don Fernando, “What’s the worst that can happen?” With a troubled look Donna Elisabeth went on whispering in his ear. His face red with consternation, Don Fernando replied: “Enough! Donna Elvira had best calm herself down”; and led Josephe onwards.

As soon as they entered the Church of the Dominicans, the organ’s sweet strains wafted forth with melodious splendor; an immeasurably large crowd was pressed within. The crush of people continued past the portals and all the way out to the esplanade, and along the walls in the spaces between paintings stood boys with their caps in their hands, casting longing looks aloft. The chandeliers glimmered, and in the twilight threw eerie shadows among the columns; the big, stained-glass rose window in the far background glowed like the setting sun that lent it its light, and as soon as the organ stopped playing all was silent in the gathered throng as if not a single soul had a sound left in his breast. Never before in a Christian cathedral had such a fervent flame climbed up to heaven as that day in the Dominican Cathedral of Santiago; and no human breasts gave more heat to the flame than those of Jeronimo and Josephe!

The service began with a sermon delivered from the pulpit by the oldest canon decked out in festive finery. He started right in, stretching his trembling hands out from under his flowing vestments up to the heavens, praying with praise, thanks, and glory that there were still people left in this devastated corner of creation able to mutter thanks to God. He described what had occurred as a wink of the Almighty; human law could not surpass God’s in severity; and when, after indicating the telltale crack which the cathedral had sustained, he nevertheless referred to yesterday’s earthquake as a mere foretaste of what was to come, a collective shudder ran through the hearts of all those gathered together. Hereupon, in the flow of priestly oratory, he lashed out against the moral corruption of the city; horrors as not even Sodom and Gomorrah had endured would be their just deserts; and it was only thanks to the infinite forbearance of God that they were not totally wiped off the face of the earth.

But the canon’s words cut like a dagger into the hearts of our two poor unfortunates, already torn to shreds by his sermon, when he proceeded to refer in detail to the sacrilege committed in the cloister garden of the Carmelite nuns; he called the worldly mercy that spared the sinners’ lives a godless abomination, and in a vitriolic harangue, mentioning the perpetrators by name, he consigned their souls to all the devilish demons of Hell! Jerking her hand from Jeronimo’s arm, Donna Constanza cried out: “Don Fernando!” But the latter replied so firmly and yet so furtively, binding both in his command: “Be silent, woman, don’t even blink an eye, and pretend to fall into a faint, whereupon we will quietly slip out of the church.” But even before Donna Constanza was able to carry out this sensibly devised rescue measure, a loud voice interrupted the canon’s sermon: “Take heed, ye burghers of Santiago, for here they stand, the godless sinners!” And when, after a wide ring of outrage spread around them, another voice exclaimed in horror: “Where?” a third voice replied: “Here!” and the speaker, engulfed with righteous malice, tore Josephe down by her hair so that she would have tumbled to the ground with Don Fernando’s son in her arms had Don Fernando not held her up. “Are you mad?” cried the young man, and wrapped his arm around Josephe, “I am Don Fernando Ormez, son of the commander of the city, whom you all know.” “Don Fernando Ormez?” replied a shoemaker standing in front of him who had worked for Josephe and knew her at least as well as he knew her little feet. And turning with insolent defiance to Asteron’s daughter, asked: “Who is the father of this child?” Don Fernando went white in the face at this question. He cast a cautious look at Jeronimo, while desperately scanning the gathered throng: Was there not a soul who recognized him? Gripped by horror at the awful situation they found themselves in, Josephe cried out: “This is not my child, as you suppose, Master Pedrillo!” and casting a look of abject terror at Don Fernando, she exclaimed: “This young gentleman is Don Fernando Ormez, son of the commander of the city whom you all know!” The shoemaker replied: “Which of you, which burghers know this young man?” And several of those standing around repeated: “Whoever knows Jeronimo Rugera, let him step forward!” And it came to pass at that very same moment, that little Juan, terrified by the tumult, turned away from Josephe’s breast and stretched his arms out to Don Fernando. Hereupon, a voice cried out: “He is the father!” and “He is Jeronimo Rugera!” and yet another: “They are the blasphemous couple!” and a third voice cried: “Stone them! By God, let all good Christians gathered in this temple of Jesus stone them!” Whereupon Jeronimo countered: “Hold it, you inhuman beasts! If it’s Jeronimo Rugera you’re after, here he is! Let go of that man who is wholly innocent!”

Flustered by Jeronimo’s remark, the seething mob stopped short; several hands let go of Don Fernando; and since at that very moment a marine officer of high rank came rushing forward, and after shoving his way through the throng, asked: “Don Fernando Ormez! What happened to you?” the latter, now set free, replied with truly heroic composure: “You see there, Don Alonzo, those murderous blackguards! I’d have been done for if that worthy gentleman had not given himself off as Jeronimo Rugera to still the raging rabble. Please be so kind as to take him into custody, as well as this young woman, for their own protection,” and grabbing hold of Master Pedrillo, added, “and arrest that no good scoundrel who stirred up this whole uproar!” To which the shoemaker cried: “Don Alonzo Onoreja, I ask you on your honor, is this girl not Josephe Asteron?” And since, though very well acquainted with Josephe, Don Alonzo hesitated to reply, and numerous other voices, fired up anew in their fury, cried out: “It’s her! It’s her!” and “Kill her!” Josephe took little Philip, whom Jeronimo had until now held in his arms, and handed him to Don Fernando, along with little Juan, saying: “Don Fernando, save your two sons and leave us to our fate!” Don Fernando took charge of the two children and said that he would sooner die than permit any harm to be done to his companions. After soliciting the sword of the marine officer, he offered Josephe his arm and bid the other couple follow him. When, in response to such a show of gallantry, people stepped aside and let them pass with a modicum of respect, they did indeed manage to make their way out of the church and thought themselves saved. But hardly had they reached the esplanade, which was likewise crowded with people, when a voice from the raging mob that followed hot on their heels, cried out: “Citizens of Santiago, that is Jeronimo Rugera, I swear, for I am his father!” and with a mighty blow of a cudgel struck him down at Donna Constanza’s side. “Jesus, Maria!” cried Donna Constanza, and ran to her brother-in-law; but already the cry rang out: “Cloister harlot!” accompanied by a second cudgel blow that laid her out dead beside Jeronimo. “Fiend!” cried an unknown person, “That was Donna Constanza Xares!” “Why did they deceive us!” the shoemaker cried in reply, “Seek out the real culprit and kill her!” Don Fernando burned with fury upon seeing Constanza’s lifeless corpse; he drew and swung his sword, and came down so hard he would surely have hacked in two the murderous scoundrel who had brought about this atrocity had the latter not with a fortuitous turn escaped the fatal blow. But seeing as he was not able to fight off the mob that flung itself upon him, Josephe cried: “Take care of yourself and the children, Don Fernando!” and: “Here, take me, you bloodthirsty beasts!” and willingly flung herself into their midst to put an end to the fight. Master Pedrillo struck her down with a cudgel. Whereupon, doused with her blood, he cried: “Send the bastard with her to Hell!” and surged forward again with still unsated bloodlust.

Don Fernando, that godly hero, now stood with his back up against the church, clutching the children with his left hand and the sword with his right. With every lightning stroke he brought a man down; a lion fights no more fiercely. Seven bloodhounds lay dead at his feet, the leader of the satanic rabble himself was wounded. Yet Master Pedrillo did not rest until he managed to grab one of the children by the feet, tear him from Don Fernando’s breast, and swinging him aloft, smash him head-first against the edge of a church pillar. Whereupon he fell still, and the rabble dispersed. When Don Fernando saw his little Juan lying there, head split open, with the brains spilling out, he raised his gaze to heaven, consumed with unspeakable grief.

The marine officer once again appeared on the scene, tried to comfort him, and assured him that, though circumstances justified his restraint, he deeply regretted not having come to Don Fernando’s assistance in this tragic debacle; but Don Fernando said he bore him no ill will, and bid him only help now to remove the corpses.