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Chapter 3

           Highup,likeastar,therewasasmallgleaminoneofthetowersofthecathedral;andtheequestrianstatuegleamedpaleagainsttheblacktreesoftheAlameda,likeaghostofroyaltyhauntingthescenesofrevolution.Therareprowlerstheymetrangedthemselvesagainstthewall.Beyondthelasthousesthecarriagerollednoiselesslyonthesoftcushionofdust,andwithagreaterobscurityafeelingoffreshnessseemedtofallfromthefoliageofthetreesborderingthecountryroad.TheemissaryfromHernandez’scamppushedhishorseclosetoCharlesGould.

           “Caballero,”hesaidinaninterestedvoice,“youarehewhomtheycalltheKingofSulaco,themasterofthemine?Isitnotso?”

           “Yes,Iamthemasterofthemine,”answeredCharlesGould.

           Themancanteredforatimeinsilence,thensaid,“Ihaveabrother,aserenoinyourserviceintheSanTomevalley.Youhaveprovedyourselfajustman.Therehasbeennowrongdonetoanyonesinceyoucalleduponthepeopletoworkinthemountains.MybrothersaysthatnoofficialoftheGovernment,nooppressoroftheCampo,hasbeenseenonyoursideofthestream.Yourownofficialsdonotoppressthepeopleinthegorge.Doubtlesstheyareafraidofyourseverity.Youareajustmanandapowerfulone,”headded.

           Hespokeinanabrupt,independenttone,butevidentlyhewascommunicativewithapurpose.

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