“YES, my friends,” he used to say to his guests, “what would you have? A youth of seventeen summers, without worldly experience, and owing my rank only to the glorious patriotism² of my father, may God rest his soul, I suffered immense humiliation³, not so much from the disobedience of That subordinate, who, alter all, was responsible for those prisoners; but I suffered because, like the boy I was, I myself dreaded⁴ going to the adjutant for the key. I had felt, before, his rough and cutting tongue. Being quite a common fellow, with no merit except his savage⁵ valour, he made me feel his contempt and dislike from the first day I joined my battalion⁶ in garrison⁷ at the fort. It was only a fortnight before! I would have confronted him sword in hand, but I shrank from the mocking brutality⁸ of his sneers⁹.  
“I don’t remember having been so miserable¹⁰ in my life before or since. The torment¹¹ of my sensibility was so great that I wished the sergeant¹² to fall dead at my feet, and the stupid soldiers who stared at me to turn into corpses¹³; and even those wretches¹⁴ for whom my entreaties¹⁵ had procured¹⁶ a reprieve¹⁷ I wished dead also, because I could not face them without shame. A mephitic heat like a whiff of air from hell came out of that dark place in which they were confined. Those at the window who heard what was going on jeered¹⁸ at me in very desperation; one of these fellows, gone mad no doubt, kept on urging me volubly to order the soldiers to fire through the window. His insane loquacity¹⁹ made my heart turn faint. And my feet were like lead. There was no higher officer to whom I could appeal. I had not even the firmness of spirit to simply go away.
 
“Benumbed by my remorse²⁰, I stood with my back to the window. You must not suppose that all this lasted a long time. How long could it have been? A minute? If you measured by mental suffering it was like a hundred years; a longer time than all my life has been since. No, certainly, it was not so much as a minute. The hoarse²¹ screaming of those miserable wretches died out in their dry throats, and then suddenly a voice spoke²², a deep voice muttering calmly. It called upon me to turn round.
 
“That voice, senores, proceeded from the head of Gaspar Ruiz. Of his body I could see nothing. Some of his fellow-captives had clambered upon his back. He was holding them up. His eyes blinked without looking at me. That and the moving of his lips was all he seemed able to manage in his overloaded²³ state. And when I turned round, this head, that seemed more than human size resting on its chin under a multitude of other heads, asked me whether I really desired to quench²⁴ the thirst of the captives.
 
“I said, ‘Yes, yes!’ eagerly, and came up quite close to the window. I was like a child, and did not know what would happen. I was anxious to be comforted in my helplessness and remorse.
 
“‘Have you the authority, senor teniente, to release my wrists from their bonds?’ Gaspar Ruiz’s head asked me.
 
“His features expressed no anxiety, no hope; his heavy eyelids²⁵ blinked upon his eyes that looked past me straight into the courtyard.
 
“As if in an ugly dream, I spoke, stammering²⁶: ‘What do you mean? And how can I reach the bonds on your wrists?’
 
“‘I will try what I can do,’ he said; and then that large staring head moved at last, and all the wild faces piled up in that window disappeared, tumbling down. He had shaken his load off with one movement, so strong he was.
 
“And he had not only shaken it off, but he got free of the crush and vanished from my sight. For a moment there was no one at all to be seen at the window. He had swung about, butting²⁷ and shouldering, clearing a space for himself in the only way he could do it with his hands tied behind his back.
 
“Finally, backing to the opening, he pushed out to me between the bars his wrists, lashed²⁸ with many turns of rope. His hands, very swollen²⁹, with knotted veins³⁰, looked enormous and unwieldy. I saw his bent³¹ back. It was very broad. His voice was like the muttering of a bull.
 
“Cut, senor teniente! Cut!’
 
“I drew my sword, my new unblunted sword that had seen no service as yet, and severed³² the many turns of the hide rope. I did this without knowing the why and the wherefore of my action, but as it were compelled by my faith in that man. The sergeant made as if to cry out, but astonishment³³ deprived him of his voice, and he remained standing³⁴ with his mouth open as if overtaken by sudden imbecility.
 
“I sheathed³⁵ my sword and faced the soldiers. An air of awestruck expectation had replaced their usual listless apathy³⁶. I heard the voice of Gaspar Ruiz shouting inside, but the words I could not make out plainly. I suppose that to see him with his arms free augmented³⁷ the influence of his strength: I mean by this, the spiritual influence that with ignorant people attaches to an exceptional degree of bodily vigour³⁸. In fact, he was no more to be feared than before, on account of the numbness³⁹ of his arms and hands, which lasted for some time.
 
“The sergeant had recovered his power of speech. ‘By all the saints!’ he cried, ‘we shall have to get a cavalry⁴⁰ man with a lasso to secure him again, if he is to be led to the place of execution. Nothing less than a good enlazador on a good horse can subdue⁴¹ him. Your worship was pleased to perform a very mad thing.’
 
“I had nothing to say. I was surprised myself, and I felt a childish curiosity to see what would happen. But the sergeant was thinking of the difficulty of controlling Gaspar Ruiz when the time for making an example would come.
 
“‘Or perhaps,’ the sergeant pursued vexedly, ‘we shall be obliged to shoot him down as he dashes out when the door is opened.’ He was going to give further vent¹ to his anxieties as to the proper carrying out of the sentence; but he interrupted himself with a sudden exclamation⁴², snatched a musket⁴³ from a soldier, and stood watchful⁴⁴ with his eyes fixed⁴⁵ on the window.’”
 
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