The Fugitive Page #6

to dance for you?

Dance? Sure, why not?

I can't dance in this dress.

OK.

Go ahead.

Father! Father!

It's the police!

You must get away.

Out through the cornfield.

Get across the river and wait for me.

Maria Dolores, shh!

What kind of men are you? Are you swine,

enticed by the first girl to show her legs?

I'll get your stripes for this, Sergeant!

And you, with your fancy dress

and your bare legs, what are you?!

What are you? Tell me.

I don't know, Juan Rafael.

What kind of a woman am I?

Did I hurt you, Maria Dolores?

No, Juan Rafael.

No.

They found the priest. Let's go.

Pablo, Miguelito, hide!

Go on, Father. Beat it.

Get on the other side!

Beat that corn down and get the priest!

Five years. It's a long time.

I know from experience.

- You've shown great courage, Father.

- Oh, no.

No, it wasn't courage, Doctor.

I can't deceive myself.

It was only pride.

Yes, I see it now. It was pride.

The first year...

Well, the whole thing

seemed fantastic.

I couldn't believe

there was any real reason to leave.

Things like that

have happened before.

I thought I'd stay another month

and see if things got better.

And then another month and another

month. You know how time goes by.

Yes.

Then I began to lose grace.

I began to have pride.

I began to think I was a brave man.

Who knows? A martyr.

I suddenly realised

I was the only priest left in the country.

Those who weren't shot

had left, they went.

I can't blame them.

They were quite right to go.

But in my growing pride,

I couldn't understand that.

Oh, don't be so hard

on yourself, Father.

A man is entitled to a little pride.

Not in my profession. I was building

a fine lie and wearing it like a proud cloak.

The strange thing is that,

all the time, I knew in here

I wasn't cut out to be a martyr.

When the real test came,

I couldn't measure up.

I didn't have the courage.

I was afraid to give myself up.

I let men die for me.

Innocent people.

Well, finish your coffee.

- Doctor, it's time for Father's nap.

- Thank you.

Thank you, Doctor.

Father. Don't be frightened, Father.

I'm your friend.

- I'm here on an errand of mercy.

- Have you brought the police with you?

The police? No, I'm here to do good.

Believe me, Father.

I want to make up for my sins.

I have two mules outside.

Hurry, Father, the man is dying.

- What man?

- The Gringo.

The Gringo - the Americano,

the man the police want.

He robbed a bank.

You know the man I mean.

He's dying, Father.

He wants you to come. You cannot refuse

a man who is dying, Father.

He has so much to confess.

- He's never betrayed his friends.

- Neither have I.

Neither have I!

You don't trust me.

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