"From the most illustrious president and commander-in-chief, General
Santa Anna," he said.
Portilla broke the seal and read. As his eyes went down the lines, a
deep flush crept through the tan of his face, and the paper trembled in
his hands.
"I cannot do it! I cannot do it! Read, gentlemen, read!" he cried.
Urrea took the extended letter from his hand and read it aloud. Neither
his voice nor his hand quivered as he read, and when he finished he said
in a firm voice:
"The orders of the president must be obeyed, and you, Colonel Portilla,
must carry them out at once. All of us know that General Santa Anna does
not wish to repeat his commands, and that his wrath is terrible."
"It is so! It is so!" said Portilla hopelessly, and Garay also spoke
words of grief. But Urrea, although younger and lower in rank, was firm,
even exultant. His aggressive will dominated the others, and his
assertion that the wrath of Santa Anna was terrible was no vain warning.
The others began to look upon him as Santa Anna's messenger, the
guardian of his thunderbolts, and they did not dare to meet his eye.
"We will go outside and talk about it," said Portilla, still much
agitated.
When they left the patio their steps inevitably took them toward the
church.
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