The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1901-01-17
Cenobio, hungry-eyed, dressed IN

"You will-you will marry me If
succeed" cried she.
"Concha," sighed he. II swear
would marry even tAis old Indian
chief cock.'
The Indian chief cook was n stren-
uous, huge and bony party, who wore
white cloth wrapped round her legs
/ instead of a skirt
When the guests arrived Sonora
Ortiz tloated forth to greet them.
Her lord was stricken dumb. Behold,
she wore the blue, \ dread crunch
ing of teeth was distinctly heard by
the federal senator.
The dinner was served. Porfirio
/ Diaz' portrait had been transferred to
the dining-room. The walls were
draped with Mexican flags. The num-
bling secretary's wife was good and
quiet, like pussy. The federal sem
ator dashed in with his equally dash
ing lady. The governor stalked to his
chair, scanning the viands narrowly.
His wife, n little pallid woman in
.
earth. At the tables head, with his
wife at his right, sat Senor Ortiz,
black, savage. He surveyed the board.
He watched the Mattresses come and
go. No mole. And his Mexican stom-
ach craycd mole. lie could not get
that awful blue out of his eyes. They
talked to him; he mumbled boorish
answers. They toasted Senior Ortiz,
the governor. Porfrio Daz (familiar-
ly called Don Porfrio-by the grace
of whom they lived and had their be-
ing). But Don Mariana replied, snap
pishlv. And all the while the stately
Indian, his civilized wife, wore more
dignity than three governments
wives would have needed. The ctor-
nal p'acidity of the Aztec nation. with
its slumbering under.fre, looked out
upon the company.
Nomole de qua iolotc. \ Anew-fanglcd
American way of cooking the peas The
tower of blue forever battering his eyes.
Ortiz lost his appetite.
Then the moment came. Cenobio
darkly gazing round corner from the
ante-room: the sweet Madonna coming
in, all trembling, with the MaXimilian
dish. She all but tottered. The brown
seemed to have gone away from her
face. leaving only the dancing pink that
came and fled. In the mole's depths she
saw n vision OF little home, flying
street car and baby. She cast wild
look on Cenobio. He answered it with
moody eve that burned with hope. She
reached Don Mariano's side. her bosom
palpitatng. She, too, saw the blue upon
her right. She perceived her masters
savage eyes upon her left. She nearly
dropped the dish.
lie looked and understood the nature
OF It's contents. But al its background
was that disgusting dress. X devilish
inspiration seized him. Concha was
lowering her masterpiece. her liquid,
frightened eyes on him. He threw up
his hand as though TO take the dish. He
struck it mighty blow with clenrhed,
spasmodic fist.
\ piercing Shrek from Concha. \
whirlwind OF thick and unctuous liquid.
\ brown sheet of mole wrapping the
blue in fatty embrace. \ broken MAXI
milan dish in Dona Maria's lap. y gut
tural groan.
The banquet terminated early.
Later. the tragedy of the spirit was
rehearSed in the rear court. Cenoblo
strobe there like a villain in n play.
Concha. colorless. came stumbling out
Her eyes of terror fell upon him. Then
she moancd: "No mule car, no Cenobio,
no baby" And She fell down and
sobbcd.
"Cenohio, Ven aca." 1t was the sui
tan's raspiug voice.
Ccnobo bounded forward and dis
appeared. His master led him into that
bedroom. and the youth observed
CLEAN in the orbs of Don Mariana.
"Take it OUT" cried the sultan, point
ing to the thing upon the floor.
Dona Maria sat bolt upright in
chair, dressed in pettcoat and stitf
white chemise, fame in her eye. mole
in her hair. mole on her ample cheeks.
mole running down her neck. Would
that he who reads could know the stain
of that concoction, its dread properties,
its diabolic alacrity, its capacity for
ruin.
Cenobio got a pole and lifted up the
thing. A little later Concha. still in
agony, beheld him approaching, fu-
nereal figure. hard despair looking ont
from his countenance: the tower of
blue, collapsed, dripping abomina-
tion, hanging in front of him. Before
the sheds he cast it down. He turned
TO see the sultan trotting fast behind,
carrying a shovel
Don Mariana, perspiring, dug hole.
The mozo buried the blue. Sunk on the
ground by the tile-roofed shed sat
Concha, scarce daring to look at that
interment. The treasurer turned to
her, and she shrank.
"H'm-Concha-Conchita," said he,
gently, wheedlingly, rubbing his hands
together; "name it. Conchita."
"Oh, what?" sobbed she. staring up.
Don Mariana was laughing with n