coldhearted scientist وداد

Walker in good spirits produced long cavalcades through the streets.
— But, downhearted, Corral never left his house …
And that day on which he was arrested (tried by court-martial,
the prisoner then threw himself on the mercy of Walker,
and Walker: that the prisoner would be shot at noon)
ladies came, with Señora Corral, and her three daughters weeping,
the youngest two embracing Walker’s knees;
and he: in between officers and surrounded by his Cuban bodyguards.
And we filibusters outside listened in silence.
And that man who’d had a sweetheart in Nashville,
Helen Martin, a deaf-mute,
who died of yellow fever,
— for whom he learned the language of hands
and together they’d make silent signs in the air —
as if a fleeting compassion like the batting of an eyelid
had then crossed his colorless eyes of ice,
lifting his hand he said:
— that Corral would not be shot
at noon … but at two in the afternoon.
And outside we, the filibusters,
were hung in doubt.
And we saw the town square overshadowed by a cloud,
the still palm trees, the Cathedral, the great stone cross,
and at the end of Main Street, like a wall, the leaden lake.
And a soldier then: “Good God, how generous!”
bursting into a loud guffaw;
and he had to be taken off so he wouldn’t be heard.
Corral was shot at two in the afternoon.
Gilman gave the order:
Walker some distance away, on horseback, not taking part.
There was mourning in many houses. We heard the weeping.
And afterward there was a great calm, like the calm before a storm.

Walker proclaimed himself President
and he decreed slavery and the seizure of estates.
Meantime enemy troops we didn’t see were mustering around lagoons.