Joam Dacosta struggled from his son's grasp and recoiled a second
time.
"To fly," he answered, in the tone of a man whose resolution was
unalterable, "is to dishonor myself, and you with me! It would be a
confession of my guilt! Of my own free will I surrendered myself to
my country's judges, and I will await their decision, whatever that
decision may be!"
"But the presumptions on which you trusted are insufficient," replied
Manoel, "and the material proof of your innocence is still wanting!
If we tell you that you ought to fly, it is because Judge Jarriquez
himself told us so. You have now only this one chance left to escape
from death!"
"I will die, then," said Joam, in a calm voice. "I will die
protesting against the decision which condemned me! The first time, a
few hours before the execution--I fled! Yes! I was then young. I had
all my life before me in which to struggle against man's injustice!
But to save myself now, to begin again the miserable existence of a
felon hiding under a false name, whose every effort is required to
avoid the pursuit of the police, again to live the life of anxiety
which I have led for twenty-three years, and oblige you to share it
with me; to wait each day for a denunciation which sooner or later
must come, to wait for the claim for extradition which would follow
me to a foreign country! Am I to live for that? No! Never!"
"Father," interrupted Benito, whose mind threatened to give way
before such obstinacy, "you shall fly! I will have it so!" And he
caught hold of Joam Dacosta, and tried by force to drag him toward
the window.
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