Rafael's mother, shutting all the doors and windows, would lift her
angry eyes toward heaven every time the crowd, returning from a meeting,
would pass through her street with banners flying and halt two doors
away, in front of the Doctor's house, where they would cheer, and cheer.
"How long, oh Lord, how long?" And though nobody insulted her nor asked
her for so much as a pin, she talked of moving to some other country.
Those people demanded a Republic--they belonged, as she said, to the
"Dividing-up" gang. The way things were going, they'd soon be winning;
and then they would plunder the house, and perhaps cut her throat and
strangle the baby!

"Never mind them, never mind them!" the fallen _cacique_ would reply,
with a condescending smile. "They aren't so bad as you imagine. They'll
sing their _Marseillaise_ for a time and shout themselves hoarse. Why
shouldn't they, if they're content with so little? Other days are
coming. The Carlists will see to it that our cause triumphs."

In don Ramón's judgment, the Doctor was a good sort, though his head may
have been a bit turned by books. He knew him very well: they had been
schoolmates together, and Rafael's father had never cared to join the
hue and cry against Doctor Moreno. The one thing that seemed to bother
him was that, as soon as the Republic was proclaimed, the Doctor's
friends were eager to send him as a deputy to the Constituent Assembly
of '73. That lunatic a deputy! Whereas he, the friend and agent of so
many Conservative ministries, had never dared think of the office for
himself, because of the fairly superstitious awe in which he held it!
The end of the world was surely coming!

But the Doctor had refused the nomination. If he were to go to Madrid,