I did not answer. A horrible suspicion had been growing within me, a suspicion which, like some infernal animal, was tearing at my heart with claws of steel. Could Gabriela and Blanca be one and the same? I turned to the assistant district attorney.
"By the way," I asked, "where was Gabriela when she was arrested?"
"In the Hotel of the Lion."
My suffering was frightful, but I could say nothing, do nothing without compromising the judge; besides, I was not sure. Even if I were positive that Gabriela and Blanca were the same person, what could my unfortunate friend do? Feign a sudden illness? Flee the country? My only way was to keep silent and let God work it out in His own way. The orders of the judge had already been communicated to the chief of police and the warden of the prison. Even at this hour the news had spread throughout the city and idlers were gathering to see the rich and beautiful woman who would ascend the scaffold. I still clung to the slender hope that Gabriela and Blanca were not the same person. But when I went toward the prison I staggered like a drunken man and was compelled to lean upon the shoulder of one of the officials, who asked me anxiously if I were ill.
VI
We arrived at the prison at four o'clock in the morning. The large reception room was brilliantly lighted. The guard, holding a black box in which was the skull of Señor Romeral, was awaiting us.
The judge took his seat at the head of the long table; the prosecuting attorney sat on his right, and the chief of police stood by with his arms folded. I and the secretary sat on the left of the judge. A number of police officers and detectives were standing near the door.
The judge touched his bell and said to the warden:
"Bring in Doña Gabriela Zahara!"
I felt as if I were dying, and instead of looking at the door, I looked at the judge to see if I could read in his face the solution of this frightful problem.
I saw him turn livid and clutch his throat with both hands, as if to stop a cry of agony, and then he turned to me with a look of infinite supplication.
"Keep quiet!" I whispered, putting my finger on my lips, and then I added: "I knew it."
The unfortunate man arose from his chair.
"Judge!" I exclaimed, and in that one word I conveyed to him the full sense of his duty and of the dangers which surrounded him. He controlled himself and resumed his seat, but were it not for the light in his eyes, he might have been taken for a dead man. Yes, the man was dead; only the judge lived.
When I had convinced myself of this, I turned and looked at the accused. Good God! Gabriela Zahara was not only Blanca, the woman my friend so deeply loved, but she was also the woman I had met in the stagecoach and subsequently at Granada, the beautiful South American, Mercedes!
All these fantastic women had now merged into one, the real one who stood before us, accused of the murder of her husband and who had been condemned to die.
There was still a chance to prove herself innocent. Could she do it? This was my one supreme hope, as it was that of my poor friend.
Gabriela (we will call her now by her real name) was deathly pale, but apparently calm. Was she trusting to her innocence or to the weakness of the judge? Our doubts were soon solved. Up to that moment the accused had looked at no one but the judge. I did not know whether she desired to encourage him or menace him, or to tell him that his Blanca could not be an assassin. But noting the impassibility of the magistrate and that his face was as expressionless as that of a corpse, she turned to the others, as if seeking help from them. Then her eyes fell upon me, and she blushed slightly.
The judge now seemed to awaken from his stupor and asked in a harsh voice:
"What is your name?"
"Gabriela Zahara, widow of Romeral," answered the accused in a soft voice.
Zarco trembled. He had just learned that his Blanca had never existed; she told him so herself--she who only three hours before had consented to become his wife!
Fortunately, no one was looking at the judge, all eyes being fixed upon Gabriela, whose marvelous beauty and quiet demeanor carried to all an almost irresistible conviction of her innocence.
The judge recovered himself, and then, like a man who is staking more than life upon the cast of a die, he ordered the guard to open the black box.
"Madame!" said the judge sternly, his eyes seeming to dart flames, "approach and tell me whether you recognize this head?"
At a signal from the judge the guard opened the black box and lifted out the skull.
A cry of mortal agony rang through that room; one could not tell whether it was of fear or of madness. The woman shrank back, her eyes dilating with terror, and screamed: "Alfonzo, Alfonzo!"
Then she seemed to fall into a stupor. All turned to the judge, murmuring: "She is guilty beyond a doubt."
"Do you recognize the nail which deprived your husband of life?" said the judge, arising from his chair, looking like a corpse rising from the grave.
"Yes, sir," answered Gabriela mechanically.
"That is to say, you admit that you assassinated your husband?" asked the judge, in a voice that trembled with his great suffering.
"Sir," answered the accused, "I do not care to live any more, but before I die I would like to make a statement."
The judge fell back in his chair and then asked me by a look: "What is she going to say?"
I, myself, was almost stupefied by fear.
Gabriela stood before them, her hands clasped and a far-away look in her large, dark eyes.
"I am going to confess," she said, "and my confession will be my defense, although it will not be sufficient to save me from the scaffold. Listen to me, all of you! Why deny that which is self-evident? I was alone with my husband when he died. The servants and the doctor have testified to this. Hence, only I could have killed him. Yes, I committed the crime, but another man forced me to do it."
The judge trembled when he heard these words, but, dominating his emotion, he asked courageously:
"The name of that man, madame? Tell us at once the name of the scoundrel!"
Gabriela looked at the judge with an expression of infinite love, as a mother would look at the child she worshiped, and answered: "By a single word I could drag this man into the depths with me. But I will not. No one shall ever know his name, for he has loved me and I love him. Yes, I love him, although I know he will do nothing to save me!"
The judge half rose from his chair and extended his hands beseechingly, but she looked at him as if to say: "Be careful! You will betray yourself, and it will do no good."
He sank back into his chair, and Gabriela continued her story in a quiet, firm voice:
"I was forced to marry a man I hated. I hated him more after I married him than I did before. I lived three years in martyrdom. One day there came into my life a man whom I loved. He demanded that I should marry him, he asked me to fly with him to a heaven of happiness and love. He was a man of exceptional character, high and noble, whose only fault was that he loved me too much. Had I told him: 'I have deceived you, I am not a widow; my husband is living,' he would have left me at once. I invented a thousand excuses, but he always answered: 'Be my wife!' What could I do? I was bound to a man of the vilest character and habits, whom I loathed. Well, I killed this man, believing that I was committing an act of justice, and God punished me, for my lover abandoned me. And now I am very, very tired of life, and all I ask of you is that death may come as quickly as possible."
Gabriela stopped speaking. The judge had buried his face in his hands, as if he were thinking, but I could see he was shaking like an epileptic.
"Your honor," repeated Gabriela, "grant my request that I may die soon."
The judge made a sign to the guards to remove the prisoner.
Before she followed them, she gave me a terrible look in which there was more of pride than of repentance.
* * * * *
I do not wish to enter into details of the condition of the judge during the following day. In the great emotional struggle which took place, the officer of the law conquered the man, and he confirmed the sentence of death.
On the following day the papers were sent to the Court of Appeals, and then Zarco came to me and said: "Wait here until I return. Take care of this unfortunate woman, but do not visit her, for your presence would humiliate instead of consoling her. Do not ask me whither I am going, and do not think that I am going to commit the very foolish act of taking my own life. Farewell, and forgive me all the worry I have caused you."
Twenty days later the Court of Appeals confirmed the sentence, and Gabriela Zahara was placed in the death cell.
* * * * *
The morning of the day fixed for the execution came, and still the judge had not returned. The scaffold had been erected in the center of the square, and an enormous crowd had gathered. I stood by the door of the prison, for, while I had obeyed the wish of my friend that I should not call on Gabriela in her prison, I believed it my duty to represent him in that supreme moment and accompany the woman he had loved to the foot of the scaffold.