The Baron of Arizona Page #4

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When Brother Paul has finished repairing

the binding, be sure to return the book.

Yes, Father Guardian. Oh, Father Guardian.

Yes?

Is there another copy

of such a valuable book?

The 1750 volume. It was written here.

But the Marqus de Santella has it.

He is secretary to the king.

Are you ill?

No, Father.

I was just thinking of the book.

I understand your concern

for ancient documents...

but do not despair.

They're well preserved

in his castle near Madrid.

Oh, I came here to the archive...

to seek peace within myself, Father.

You are tempted to run away.

I am not for this kind of life, Father.

Others have been tempted too.

Meditate.

We shall talk tomorrow.

You know how it is, Father. There are

so many reports, so many complaints.

But in your case, we came just

as soon as we were notified.

I'm glad you came today. I -

Oh, Brother Anthony!

Brother Anthony!

Brother Anthony!

Brother Anthony!

I did not think he would run away.

Run away? The wagon. He has

taken our horses and wagon.

- We'll bring them back.

- That's not the way.

He would not speak to me for

fear I would inspire him to stay.

Yes, he did appear frightened.

As I was telling you, Father...

your complaints finally

brought official action.

Tomorrow all holes in the

mountain roads will be filled...

even those beyond the Roman Bridge.

Some wine, Father.

Your horse is dead,

Father, your wagon firewood.

I found you

- me, Rita.

I'm not a monk, Rita.

To escape police, I had to wear this robe.

Who are you?

A wanderer, like Cain,

looking for a woman of my own.

I tell you, she was beautiful...

but I told her that a Spanish

promise is like a Spanish pepper.

It burns whoever tastes it.

- Here's a hat.

- Oh, thank you, Angie.

- And here's a coat.

- Ah.

- I think this will fit you.

- Ah, thanks.

What's the matter? Aren't you gonna

finish the stew I made for you?

- Oh, certainly, Angie. It's excellent.

- It's your horses.

Two years ago in Madrid I was

dining with royalty one night.

One of them said that no amount of washing...

could turn a gypsy white.

- I accused him of insulting the gypsies.

- You said that to a nobleman?

I spit in his face and

received 20 lashes on my back.

That pig of a nobleman was

the Marqus de Santella.

Santella? Secretary to the king?

He's a pig. He prays

every night to the devil.

- He's rich.

- I know, and I have a plan.

In his house is much gold. I

know exactly where it is hidden.

But I need help, and we can

all share in that great wealth.

- It's too dangerous.

- She is right.

A thief never takes chances.

We can get that gold.

- Then why do you need us?

- I told you, I have a plan.

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