Then came the second battalion of the Patricios, the "Pardos y Morenos," and the Arribeño regiment. Mounted messengers were despatched at speed to the Residencia and to the Plaza Miserere. The swarthy troopers, tired with long waiting in the hot summer sun, received the summons with joy, and noon was not long passed ere Don Cornelio Saavedra found himself at the head of a force nearly double in number to the entire force the Spaniards could bring against him, even should the Andaluz regiment, which remained under arms in the Plaza de los Perdices, ultimately declare for them.
Meantime Don Martin Alzaga and his colleagues save one (Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon held himself aloof from them), determined upon a direct appeal to the people. Again the bells rang out their clang of alarm, and the royal flag of Spain, brought out from itsseclusion, was displayed on the balcony of the Cabildo. Vain hope to excite loyalty to Spain in the breasts of men who already knew that they were Argentines. Few citizens responded to the appeal. Don Martin had none upon whom he could depend save upon those three Spanish infantry corps which were still drawn up in the Plaza Mayor, underneath the balcony on which waved the proud flag of Spain, the symbol of the conquest.
Yet one other course was open to him. Sundry citizens who were well-affected to their Spanish rulers were summoned to the Cabildo, and incorporated with that august body, thus forming what was called in those days a "Cabildo Abierto," a corporation in which both Spaniards and Argentines were represented, and which might be thus supposed to embody the wishes of the people.
Then a deed of resignation was drawn up, by which the Viceroy resigned his office and authorised the formation of a Junta, in which his powers should be invested. With this deed the whole of the members of the Cabildo, both Spaniards and Argentines, with the exception of that one man who still held aloof, crossed over to the fort and presented it to the Viceroy, notifying him that it was the will of the people that he should resign his office.
Liniers looked around him in surprise. All the ruling corporations of the city were represented in this group of men who presented this deed to him for signature. Among them were also several well-known citizens, Argentines by birth, and men of influence among their fellow-countrymen. It seemed to him that the voice of the people called upon him to resign; he took his pen and signed the document.
As Liniers gave his assent, and ere he had yet signed the deed of abdication, a messenger was sent across the two Plazas to the Cabildo, to the Spaniards who had remained there, telling them that their cause was won. Eager hands seized upon the flag of Spain, waving it triumphantly; eager voices shouted the pæan of victory, yet still Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon held aloof, leaning on the rails of the balcony and gazing out upon the Plaza, watching ever, but neither by voice nor sign showing that he had any part in the triumph.
Then from the Calle Defensa, memorable for the repulse and capture of General Crauford on the 5th July, 1807, issued into the open Plaza the firm array of the citizen soldiers of Buenos Aires, with their trusted leader, Don Cornelio Saavedra at their head. First came the Patricios, who ever claimed the post of danger, the post of honour; then came the Arribeños, the artillery, the Pardos y Morenos and the Andaluces, who had last of all made up their minds to join the ranks of the patriots. The infantry with bayonets fixed, the artillery bringing their cannon with them, the gunners marching with the matches lighted in their hands. These drew up on the east side the Plaza in dense ranks, with the Recoba Vieja behind them, facing towards the Cabildo, where the three Spanish corps ceased their cries and jubilation as they gazed upon the formidable array so unexpectedly marshalled against them.
Behind the infantry and artillery there came yet two other corps, two squadrons of cavalry, the hussars of Don Martin Rodriguez, and the dragoons from Las Barrancas, dark-featured, long-haired men, whosat their horses as though they were parts of them, and whose bright sabres were held by brawny hands, wielding them as though they were toys. These two squadrons of cavalry, with the Andaluces, were drawn up behind the Recoba in reserve, but at the cross streets and at the central arch, spaces were left in the long line of infantry through which the cavalry might advance were there occasion for their services.
When all his arrangements were complete, Don Cornelio Saavedra glanced proudly over the serried files of men who obeyed his word, glanced indignantly across the Plaza at the troops still there in spite of the promise given him by the Bishop, then, deputing the command to Major Viamont, away he galloped to the fort. Followed by a group of his principal officers, he walked into the saloon of audience, in which the deed of resignation had just been signed.
The assembled grandees were struck mute at this unexpected intrusion. Monseñor Lue was the first to speak; turning to Saavedra he said—
"Thanks be to God, all is finished. His excellency loves the people, and does not desire that there be bloodshed for his sake. He has agreed to abdicate."
"Who has given his Excellency the power to resign the command legally conferred upon him?" asked Saavedra in reply.
"Señor Comandante," replied the Bishop, in a supplicating tone, "do you wish to involve this people in blood?"
"Neither I nor my comrades," answered the Commandant of the Patricios, "have caused this revolution. I have said, and I repeat it, that there is no cause for this violence."
Then hearing the Bishop say that it was the will of the people that the Viceroy should resign, Saavedra interrupted him, saying—
"That is a falsehood. In proof of it, let the Señor Liniers come with us, let him present himself to the people; if the people refuse him, and will not that he continue in command, then I and my comrades will sign the deed of abdication."
Then he and Don Martin Rodriguez took the Viceroy by the arm, saying to him—
"Descend with us, your Excellency, and hear from the mouth of the people what is their will."
It was already sunset when Liniers, surrounded by Argentine citizens and officers of the militia, crossed the drawbridge of the fort. The Plaza de los Perdices was full of people, beyond them were drawn up the dense ranks of the native troops. From all these there burst loud cheers and shouts of "Viva Don Santiago Liniers! We will have no other to rule over us."[10]
Negro slaves, tearing off their clothes, strewed them on the ground before the Viceroy as he walked forth, so that he might not soil his feet with the dust. Behind this group came the discomfited members of the Cabildo, among whom walked the secretary of the Cabildo, carrying in his hand the deed of abdication. As he crossed the drawbridge, Don Carlos Evaña, who was close to Liniers, turned back, ranto the secretary, and snatching the deed from him tore it into pieces, and threw the fragments contemptuously into the air, at which sight the exultant populace burst out again with shouts of triumph.
Meanwhile, at the first shouts of the people, the Spanish officers in the further Plaza gave orders to their men to load with ball cartridge. Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, who still stood on the balcony of the Cabildo, heard the order given. Descending at once to the Plaza, he ran along the front of the line of soldiers, shouting—
"To your barracks, Gallegos and Viscainos! To your barracks, Catalanes!"
At the same time an aide-de-camp from Marshal Liniers came to them with an order from the Viceroy to lay down their arms. Contradictory orders of all sorts were given by the officers, all was confusion; some of the men wheeled round and marched away, others grasped their muskets and glared defiance across the Plaza at the steady ranks of the citizen soldiers drawn up in defiant array in front of them.
At this moment Don Carlos Evaña, standing under the arch of the Recoba, shouted to the cavalry sitting motionless on their horses, with sabres drawn in the Plaza de los Perdices—
"To me, muchachos! now is the moment!" at the same time pointing with his sabre to the confused groups of soldiery who occupied the far side of the Plaza Mayor.
"Follow me, muchachos!" shouted Venceslao Viana, driving in his spurs and dashing at full speed through the arch of the Recoba.
His troop followed him pell-mell, and the rest of the cavalry, supposing that some order had been given, charged through every opening into the Plaza Mayor.
Don Roderigo ran frantically along the ranks of the Spanish infantry tearing the muskets from the hands of the men and shouting—
"To your barracks! to your barracks! Españoles!"
All was confusion and wild panic; the Spaniards broke their ranks, and in headlong flight ran off up the streets abutting on the west side of the Plaza, throwing away their arms, many of them seeking refuge in the open doorways of the houses as they passed. After them came the fierce horsemen of the Pampas, striking at them furiously with their sabres, trampling them underfoot if they made any attempt to resist. Few of them reached their barracks, all over the city they were dispersed, and the power of Spain was broken for ever in Buenos Aires.
Then the royal flag of Spain, which had fluttered so proudly all the afternoon on the balcony of the Cabildo, was withdrawn, never more to see the light as an emblem of conquest and subjugation; when again it was brought forth it was to grace some festival of a free people.
As the horsemen poured tumultuously into the Plaza, the native infantry looked eagerly to Don Cornelio for a signal, but Don Cornelio riding along the line called upon them to ground arms and not to move; all obeyed, watching in silence the discomfiture of their enemies, except a small party on the left flank where the "Pardos y Morenos" were stationed.
During the whole day a slim youth of small stature, who by hisdress evidently belonged to one of the principal families of the city, had hovered about under the arcade of the Recoba Nueva, absent occasionally for a short time while the patriot troops were concentrating under the orders of Don Cornelio Saavedra, returning with them to the Plaza, and resuming his former station under the arcade. As the horsemen dashed through the arch of the Recoba Vieja this youth ran towards the "Pardos y Morenos," waving his hat and shouting—
"Now, Morenitos! now!"
About a score of negroes obeyed his call, left their ranks, and, mingled with the horsemen, rushed across the Plaza straight for the main entrance to the Cabildo. The wide gateway and the courtyard beyond were crowded with panic-stricken soldiery, whose terror the sudden rush of the negroes yet further increased so that they fled before their levelled bayonets and left the way open to the main staircase. Up this staircase the youth, who was Evaristo Ponce de Leon, led the way towards a corridor where a sentry stood on guard.
"Back! back!" shouted Evaristo to this man as he levelled his musket. The negroes crowding up behind him gave a fierce yell; he dropped his weapon and fled.
"The key!" shouted Evaristo after him as he ran.
"The key!" said a stalwart negro, "I have key sufficient." And seizing the barrel of his musket with both hands he struck the side panel of the door as strongly as he could with the butt. The lock gave way and the door flew open.
Marcelino, pale with his confinement, and listening anxiously to the cries and shouts which he could plainly hear, but of the cause of which he knew nothing, stood in the centre of a well-furnished room as the door flew open. He gazed in wonder upon the joyful faces of the negroes, and the next moment was clasped in the arms of his brother.
"I have saved you, Marcelino, now you are free," said Evaristo, and without further explanation he snatched a hat from a peg, and a light poncho from a chair, saying—
"Put these on and come. It is sundown already, and I promised mamma and Lola that I would go back with you to-day."
Marcelino asked no questions, but put on the hat and poncho, taking his brother by the hand went forth along the corridor, down the staircase, across the courtyard, and so out into the open Plaza. Here groups of excited men were talking and gesticulating together, troops were manœuvring on the open space in the centre, all the ground in front of the Cabildo was strewn with muskets and accoutrements, a body of horsemen with drawn sabres were stationed in front of the cathedral, and a party of the Patricios came along the side-walk, under the upper story of the Cabildo, carrying on their crossed muskets two men in the uniform of the Catalan regiment, whose heads were bound up with blood-stained handkerchiefs. Around him and behind him came the negroes who had burst open his prison door, their black faces shining with delight, and their white teeth gleaming between their thick brown lips.
"What has happened?" said Marcelino. "There is my uncleGregorio with a party of his dragoons! There has been a fight! What has happened, Evaristo?"
"Never mind now, come along quick, presently I will tell you all," said Evaristo, hurrying him on past the cathedral and round the next corner.
Here Marcelino's own servant, the negro Manuel, stood holding two saddled horses by the bridles. The two brothers mounted at once.
"Now I am free!" said Marcelino with a shout of joy as he settled himself in the saddle. "I shall not forget this service which you have done me, Morenos."
The negroes answered him with a loud shout, "Viva el Comandante Ponce!" and drawn up in line presented arms.
Both brothers touched their hats in acknowledgment of this salute, and then, slackening their reins, galloped away. Neither spoke till they had left the suburbs behind them.
"Tell me now what has happened, Evaristo?" said Marcelino.
"I knew there was going to be something," replied Evaristo, "for Tata sent me out to the quinta yesterday and would not go himself. I found Uncle Gregorio there, and his dragoons came, Evaña had sent for them, and uncle said you would be set free to-day, so I came back. First thing this morning I went to the barracks of the Pardos y Morenos, there were some of your men there and they were glad enough to promise me. All day I waited but there was never a chance, there were the Catalanes and Gallegos right in front of the Cabildo. Suddenly the arch of the Recoba appeared a volcano vomiting dragoons with drawn sabres, the Spaniards were all in confusion, I saw that the moment had come. I called to the Morenos, they followed me like 'guapos' and here we are."
"Yes, here we are, thank God, but why were the Spaniards there and the Patricios?"
"It appears that the Señores the Spaniards took it into their heads to depose the Viceroy. That did not please Don Cornelio Saavedra, and the dragoons of Uncle Gregorio have trampled on them some little I warrant you."
[9]"Junta! Junta! like that of Spain! Down with Liniers the Frenchman."
[9]"Junta! Junta! like that of Spain! Down with Liniers the Frenchman."
[10]For this scene see "La Historia de Belgrano," by General Mitre.
[10]For this scene see "La Historia de Belgrano," by General Mitre.
It was long past nightfall ere the Viceroy, wearied with the day's anxieties, returned to his official residence at the fort. As he crossed the drawbridge he was joined by Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon.
"I come to congratulate you, Don Santiago, on the happy result of the day," said Don Roderigo.
"Ah! Don Roderigo, is it you?" said the Viceroy. "I have looked for you several times to-day. How is it that you never came with the other members of the Cabildo?"
"I knew what they purposed doing and chose to take no part in it. I like not these popular demonstrations."
"But the people were with me entirely."
"By good fortune, and owing to the firmness of Don Cornelio. But after all we have only just escaped a great catastrophe."
"A catastrophe! Well, yes, if the Spanish regiments had stood firm there would have been bloodshed, but the end would have been as it is."
"If the artillery and the Andaluces had been against you to-day, you could only have crushed the conspiracy by great sacrifice of life, and the danger is merely postponed."
"I shall disarm all the Spanish regiments."
"Disarm the Spanish regiments! If you do that you are lost, you put yourself entirely in the power of these Creoles."
"The militia or the troops, I must choose between them," said Liniers.
"You do not see the danger from which both you and we have escaped to-day. Why did the cavalry charge the troops when all was over? I will tell you. There is a strong revolutionary feeling abroad in the city; there are many among the Creoles who supported you to-day who did so simply for the furtherance of their own schemes. They supported you for the sake of destroying the authority of the Cabildo, their next step will be to depose you. They seek to take advantage of the misfortunes of Spain to establish here a republic."
"Evaña?" said the Viceroy.
"I mention no names," replied Don Roderigo, "but I warn you that in the Cabildo only can you find a loyal and steady support to your authority."
"As I have seen to-day."
"To-day has been a foolish outbreak of Spanish pride and jealousy, of which I had forewarned you, but, as you know, all Spaniards did not go with Don Martin Alzaga. The artillery passed over at once when the Patricios went to them shouting 'Viva el Reconquistador.'We Spaniards have not forgotten the 12th August and the 5th and 6th July. Whilst you hold your power by legitimate appointment from the supreme government of Spain we look to you as our chief and as our defence against revolution, there are not many of us who are hot-headed fools like Don Martin Alzaga. Beware of the revolutionary party, they are the men who are really dangerous. There has been bloodshed to-day, happily not much, not enough to satisfy those reckless revolutionists. The cavalry charged without order from Don Cornelio, it was the last effort of the revolutionists to force on a conflict for the purpose of plunging us into anarchy and so making an opportunity for themselves."
The Viceroy listened attentively to Don Roderigo, but merely answered by inviting him to supper with him, and several others being present they had no more confidential talk together. As he rose to go Don Roderigo said—
"I think I have done your Excellency good service to-day, one boon I ask you in return, the liberty of my son."
"Pues!" said the Viceroy, with a look of surprise; "he is free hours ago."
"I did not know it," said Don Roderigo, "but I give you a thousand thanks, and also for the leniency with which he has been treated during his arrest."
"Then you knew nothing of it? I thought you had taken advantage of the confusion to release him yourself. When the troops dispersed, a party of negroes burst into the Cabildo and set him free by force, I thought you had sent them."
"This is the first I hear of it," said Don Roderigo.
"I am glad of that," said the Viceroy, "for this violence was quite unnecessary. I promised Captain Asneiros this morning that I would release him at sundown. To-morrow I will send you a formal order for his release, and his books and papers shall be returned to you."
Don Roderigo bowed and retired, feeling greatly disappointed, for he had planned to himself to end the day by bearing the order for his son's release, himself to the Cabildo, and by being himself the first to congratulate him on his liberation.
While Don Roderigo and the Viceroy sat at supper, the commandant of the dragoons from Las Barrancas and Don Carlos Evaña had a stormy altercation together at the house of the latter gentleman. They were in a large, plainly-furnished apartment, Don Gregorio seated in an arm-chair with his hat on, and his left hand resting upon the hilt of his sabre, Don Carlos walking excitedly up and down the room, while near the door stood Venceslao Viana, bare-headed and unarmed, his sword-belt and sabre lying on a side-table, near to which the Colonel was seated.
"Without doubt you are to blame, Don Carlos," said Don Gregorio, "but that in no way excuses the conduct of Venceslao. My officers are not to receive orders from any one but me, if they do not incur the extreme penalty of martial law. Your act, Venceslao, has cost the lives of six men, and there are some two score wounded; your act was in disobedience to my express orders, and your life is forfeit for the vindication of military discipline."
"To Don Carlos I owe my life," said Venceslao calmly. "If I lose it in his service, I do no more than pay my debt."
"Then that debt is paid," replied Don Gregorio. "If the Viceroy pass over this affair without enquiry I shall say no more about it. Take up your sabre and go."
Without the slightest change of countenance Venceslao buckled on his sabre, then with a low bow to both the others replaced his hat and left the room. In the patio outside the door of this room stood two dismounted troopers with their carbines; in the streets outside half a troop were seated in their saddles with drawn sabres; one of these men held Venceslao's horse by the bridle, he mounted and trotted slowly away.
"It appears that I am to be a great warrior," said he to himself, as he trotted through the suburbs; "I am always just going to be killed, and away I go without a scratch. When I heard the order for my arrest I said to myself, 'Of a certainty he will shoot me.' I deserved it without doubt, yet here I am."
Without giving more thought to the matter he then commenced singing one of the monotonous songs of the paisanos, and so trotted on to a quinta beyond the suburbs where his regiment was encamped.
"Sit down, Carlos," said Don Gregorio, as Venceslao closed the door behind him. "Explain to me your ideas. Why did you seek to force on a conflict when all had ended as we wished it?"
"Because all has not ended as we wished it," replied Evaña, throwing himself upon a sofa. "We wished to break for ever the power of the Spaniards over us. What we have done is to secure the power of one who will maintain everything as it has been. I wished to force him into open collision with the Spaniards, as it is he has half the Spaniards with him. If I had succeeded he would have been forced to depend in everything upon native Argentines; until the government is in every department in the hands of Creoles we are not a free people, and that is the end to which you, I, and every true Argentine aspires."
"Truly it is so, but I like not your way of going to work. Liberty without strict discipline is anarchy, discipline is more necessary among a free people than among slaves."
Then there was silence for a space between them, till Evaña sprang from his sofa saying:
"Yet it is possible that we may do something. Promise me that you will return slowly, and not go further than the casa-teja till I see you or write to you."
"You have some fresh scheme in your head?"
"I have, and I may need your assistance."
"For three days I will wait, but no longer. Do what you can, and count upon me."
"I am going at once to see Liniers, to try what can be done with him. He must see by now what he can expect from the Spaniards. If he will but declare for us our cause is won."
Darkness shrouded the city which during the day had been the scene of so much tumult. It wanted but an hour of midnight, the moon had not yet risen, and the stars shining calmly down from the blue vault where they kept their stations, were the only lights whichillumined the path of a tall man, enveloped in a large cloak, who picked his way carefully across the Plaza de los Perdices. He walked up to the drawbridge which crossed the dry ditch surrounding the fort on the land side. The bridge was down, but the gate beyond was closed, and on the bridge a sentry of the Patricios kept watch and ward.
"Good-night, friend," said the tall man to the sentry.
"Keep back, whoever you are," said the sentry, bringing down his musket to the charge.
"Do not alarm yourself, Pancho, I am no enemy," said the other. "Who is the officer of the guard?"
"Back!" replied the sentry. "Who are you? How do you know that my name is Pancho?"
But the tall man came still nearer, taking off his hat, and throwing back his cloak.
"Don Carlos Evaña!" exclaimed the sentry, recovering his musket. "What would you at this hour? Have you not the word?"
"No. But who is the officer of the guard?"
"The Señor Lieutenant Lopez y Viana."
"Valentin!" exclaimed Evaña; "it could not be better. Do me the favour to knock at the gate, and ask him to come out and speak to me."
The sentry walked back across the bridge and knocked at the gate. After a lengthened parley a sergeant stepped out through a wicket, and requested Don Carlos to come forward and step inside. Don Carlos walked across the bridge, passed the wicket and found himself in the midst of an armed party of the Patricios, one of whom held up a lantern to his face.
"Ah! it is you, Don Carlos," said a young officer, stepping forward. "Excuse the delay, but after the affair of to-day no precaution is too much."
"You do perfectly right, Valentin," replied Don Carlos; then passing his arm over the shoulder of the young officer he whispered some few words in his ear.
Five minutes later Don Carlos was seated in the private apartment of the Viceroy, and with him held earnest converse for nearly an hour.
"Then your Excellency entirely rejects my proposal," said Evaña.
"I do," replied the Viceroy. "I hold my authority from the Court of Spain, and will suffer no innovations without consulting the supreme authorities, whoever they may happen to be."
"Think well what you do, Don Santiago. Such an opportunity as the present may never offer itself to you again. The people have to-day for the third time shown their power. Twice have they repulsed invasions of the English, to-day they have humbled the arrogance of the Spaniards. Put yourself at the head of this new power which has risen up in America, and a new career of greatness and of glory will open up before you. Attempt to arrest the progress of the people, and they themselves, who to-day have offered their lives for you, will crush you to the dust."
"You threaten me," exclaimed the Viceroy.
"I do not threaten you, I merely warn you. If I stand forth myself and proclaim the liberty of the people they will rise as one man to demand their rights. Who is there that shall say them nay?"
"The people would not listen to you," replied the Viceroy.
"I wish to avoid bloodshed and contention, therefore I ask you, who hold the power in your hands, to put yourself at the head of the people. Under your leadership there will be no contention, no bloodshed."
"Know you not that this is treason which you propose to me? What hinders me from ordering your immediate arrest as a conspirator against Spain?"
"Do it," said Evaña, rising. "Call in your guards, order them to arrest me. Doubtless they will obey you, but to-morrow's sun will see the last day of your authority in Buenos Aires. Shoot me if you like. I should die joyfully, for I know that my blood would purchase the liberty of my own people."
"No. You have come here unarmed and alone. I respect the trust you have placed in me, but give some attention to my words. I have long had my eye upon you as a man of dangerous ideas—ideas which you have now disclosed to me. Look well what you do, for whilst I hold authority as Viceroy I will maintain that authority intact, and will punish any revolutionary attempt with the extremest rigour of the law."
"And how much longer will you hold this authority?" asked Evaña. "Have not the Spaniards to-day shown you how little they respect it? I know it, if you do not, that months ago they sent to Spain for a successor to you, who may come at any time. What becomes then of your authority? Why should you submit to be deposed by the Junta of Seville? They did not appoint you. Your authority was bestowed upon you by the people; you retain it now solely by their will. I say no more, but I give you three days to consider of the proposal I have made to you. If at the expiration of that time you are silent, then I shall know that you have chosen your own course, and shall abandon you to your fate; but again I warn you, beware how you oppose the progress of the people. You, who are to-day their favourite, will be the first victim of their rage in the day when they rise up in their strength and seize those rights which you have conspired to keep from them."
As Evaña spoke he raised himself to his full height, looking with a stern, threatening gaze upon the Viceroy, who answered him not a word, but sat motionless in his chair, while the colour faded from his face and lips, and the sweat stood in great beads upon his brow. He forgot that he was in Buenos Aires, he forgot that he was Viceroy; in memory he stood again in the streets of Paris as he stood in his youth; again before his eyes there rushed a furious, half-starved mob, brandishing strange weapons and shouting fiercely in hoarse voices the refrain of that deadly song:
"Ca ira! Les Aristocrats à la lanterne."
Evaña saw the pallor in his cheeks, saw the vacant stare in his terror-stricken eyes, and waited for him to speak, half hopeful yet; but no words came, slowly the eyes recovered their usual expression and turned upon himself, their expression then becoming one of fierce anger. The Viceroy started from his chair, laying his hand upon the hilt of his sword, for one moment he stood irresolute, then his eyes shrank beneath the stern, threatening gaze of those dark eyeswhich confronted his so unflinchingly; once more he sank back into his chair covering his face with his hands.
Evaña, taking up his hat and cloak, made a low bow to the unconscious Viceroy and left him to himself. In the ante-room he met young Valentin, with whom he spoke for a few minutes; crossing the parade-ground, where the guard drawn up presented arms to him as he passed, he stept out through the wicket, and folding his cloak closely round him went forth over the drawbridge and with long, rapid strides walked swiftly away for his own home.
His servant had supper waiting for him as he arrived; he tried to eat, but it seemed to him as though his food would choke him; he poured out a goblet of wine, drank it at one draught, and retired to his own room.
"Only six killed, and they men of whom no one thinks twice," said he to himself, and he paced up and down. "To-morrow it will be all forgotten, and we shall be as good friends as ever with our lords the Spaniards. That fool Liniers! I have given him three days, but I know it will all be in vain; to-morrow he will have some one else at his ear, he will do nothing. But can I do nothing? He said they would not listen to me; but many would, and lose themselves with me perchance. No, patience, patience yet, my day will come."
So he laid himself down to sleep, and in the visions of the night there came to him a dream.
Legions of red-coated soldiery obeyed his orders, encompassing his native city on all sides, assailing it with storms of shot and shell, laying the suburbs in ruins and advancing through streets of burning houses, slaying all who opposed them, till the city was won. Then he himself led the attack upon the fort; forcing his way across the drawbridge, encumbered with heaps of corpses, he rushed to the tall flag-staff on which fluttered the standard of Spain. With his own hands he tore down this standard and set up another. Then as this new standard gave itself to the winds, floating high in air amidst smoke and dust, he turned, pointed to it with his drawn sword, and called upon his countrymen to acknowledge him as their liberator.
But when he looked around him he was alone, and there was none to answer him. Then from afar off there came to him an answer from the city. From amidst the crumbling walls and burning houses there reached him through the murky air the wailing voices of women and the piteous cries of children.
Then he was perplexed, and his heart smote him that he had done unwisely; and as he thought of the desolation he had accomplished there rose up before him from a pile of mangled corpses one ghastly figure, covered with blood and wounds, which, frowning angrily upon him, rushed upon him with a dagger to stab him to the heart. Fiercely he struck at this phantom with his sword; as he struck, another figure rushed in between them, the figure of a woman, whose long dishevelled hair enveloped her with a radiance as of molten gold. His sword buried itself in her breast; wildly she threw up her arms, gazing upon him out of a pair of large grey eyes, full of terror and reproach.
"Always my friend, whatever happens!" she shrieked out, then threw herself at his feet to die. It was Dolores.
With a loud cry Evaña started from his couch and woke.
Mother and sister received the rescued prisoner with open arms. Far into the night they sat together talking over the events of the last three weeks, while of the day itself the events were detailed to them by Evaristo after a fashion somewhat hard of comprehension.
When they separated, Marcelino retired to his couch with a heavy heart. During his imprisonment and since, he had learned sufficient to tell him that his father, though professing the greatest indignation at his arrest, had taken no one step towards his deliverance, and had rather hindered the plans of those who had interested themselves for him. During his imprisonment he had been subjected once only to a cursory examination, when the questions put to him showed him that the cause of his imprisonment was the scheme for inviting the Princess Carlota to Buenos Aires, which he had been the first to enunciate. In this scheme he had taken no further part, yielding to the wish of his father, though he still looked upon it as the only means of achieving independence without plunging the country into civil war.
That his father knew the cause of his imprisonment, and could have procured his release at any moment, he felt certain, yet he had neither written to him nor had been once to see him. The Viceroy would hardly have ventured upon such a step without consulting him, he must at least have consented to, perhaps even suggested his imprisonment. So Marcelino pondered within himself, lying on his couch sleepless through the night until the dawn of another day, his mind filled with bitter thoughts and his heart with anger.
The next day Venceslao Viana, passing the quinta with the dragoons on the march outside, left a note from Colonel Lopez to Doña Constancia, telling her that if Marcelino was with her he need be under no fear of arrest, for the Viceroy had sent an order for his liberation to the Cabildo on the preceding evening.
The great heat of the day was past, the sun was already dipping towards the tree-tops, and the shadows were beginning to stretch themselves out over the broad walks of the Quinta de Don Alfonso. The wide porch, covered with honeysuckle, passion-flowers, and other creepers, was at this time of the day the coolest part of the house, here Magdalen sat alone in a low chair, sewing. She was dressed in a plain gown of dove-coloured muslin, fitting closely round the base of her neck, leaving her throat uncovered, girded round the waist with a belt of blue velvet, fastened by a silver buckle. Narrow straightsleeves covered her arms down to the wrists, where they were confined by bands of blue velvet and terminated in little white frills. Her glossy brown hair was bound round her head by a fillet of blue silk, from which sundry stray locks had escaped, and lay in broad curls upon her neck and shoulders. She was not very diligently at work, every now and then she would pause, and laying down her task gazed with dreamy, far-looking eyes, out through the bright sunshine and through the foliage of the trees upon the white towers and domes of the city, so near to look upon, and yet to her so far off. For she knew hardly anything of what had happened there for two weeks past, she herself having never left the quinta and her father but once all that time, while the only visitor who had been with them was Don Fausto Velasquez. Since his visit her father had been very anxious and troubled, but of his trouble he had told her nothing. That morning his face had brightened, and he had gone into the city, from which he had not yet returned.
So she sat alternately stitching and gazing, watching the lengthening shadows of the trees, eagerly looking at any who passed on the adjacent road, listening to the sound of any footstep that came near her, waiting and thinking. Waiting for her father, who came not, thinking of many things. Waiting for her father, who had told her when he went that he hoped to bring her good news on his return; thinking of what these news would be, yet doubting much that the news which would most please her would be but of small import to him.
As she thus sat she heard a footstep close to her, a footstep which she knew well, coming up the garden walk, close to the house. This footstep, light and quick, she had learned to know, for it had brought her joy many times, and now her heart bounded with a wild delight, and she whispered to herself:
"He is free."
Then a sudden pang shot through her and quenched her joy. The blood which had rushed to her face at the first sound of that footstep fled back again to her heart, and left her with pale cheeks and a nervous contraction of the lips, as she thought of some words which had been said to her days before by Doña Josefina, and of a girl of radiant beauty of whom he had spoken in terms of warm admiration.
The footsteps ceased, a figure stood in the entrance of the porch, and a low voice spoke to her in tender accents, one word only:
"Magdalen."
As she heard that voice, and that one word so tenderly spoken, the tremor of her heart ceased, the blood rushed back to her face, suffusing cheeks and brow, she started to her feet, stretching out her hand and trying to speak some word of welcome, but no word came. Marcelino took her hand in his own and raised it to his lips, then leading her back to her chair he seated himself beside her on a low stool, still holding her hand in his. So sat they silently for some moments, Magdalen was the first to speak.
"Papa is not at home," she said, drawing away her hand; "all day he has been in the city."
"It is three weeks since I have seen you," replied Marcelino."They have been to me like three years. I have been in prison, I have been thinking of you all the time and wondering whether you would miss me. Have you been much in the city since I saw you last?"
"No, only once," said Magdalen. "Doña Josefina said that you would soon be free."
"I escaped last night, and am free, yet in great trouble; I cannot live here any longer, I must go, but I could not go without seeing you first."
"Going! Where are you going? Don Fausto said that it was a mistake, and that you had done nothing."
"Yes, I had done something, I had dared to love my country, and had dared to speak of a scheme which would free her from tyranny. To love one's country is a crime in the eyes of our lords the Spaniards, and my father is a Spaniard."
Then again there was silence between them for a space, till Magdalen spoke.
"Yesterday morning there was a squadron of horse here in the Plaza," she said; "all the morning they were there. Papa was very anxious and kept watching them, till in the siesta they marched away into the city. What happened there?"
"At sundown there was a fight in the Plaza Mayor. Evaristo with some of the Morenos of mine bust into the Cabildo and set me free. It appears that the Spaniards made a revolt against Liniers and failed. More I know not, but this is the beginning I hoped to have avoided, now I have to choose between my father and my country."
"Your father! But he was a great friend of the Viceroy, he would not join a revolt against him."
"My father is a Spaniard, what Spaniards do is always well done in his eyes, and without doubt he was with them."
"But you say they have failed; he may be in danger. When did you leave the city? What have you heard?"
"I left the city last night, and I have heard nothing more than I have told you."
"And all the day where have you been?" said Magdalen, looking at him in surprise.
"I have been all day at the quinta, I have just come from there. I could not pass the first day of my freedom without seeing you."
"And your father in danger! Oh, that is wrong, it is so unlike you.
"In danger of what? a prison? I have just escaped from the prison where he put me."
"He put you! It was the Viceroy put you in prison, and Don Roderigo was very angry about it; Don Fausto said so."
"The Viceroy does nothing of himself, he always consults some one, none more than my father. My father warned me of this conspiracy, and I told him that if the Spaniards here pronounced against Liniers, as Elio did in Monte Video, all Argentines would support the Viceroy against them. He wanted me to promise him that I would take no part either one way or other. I refused, and a few days after I was in prison. Do not you think that one word from my father would have set me free? That word he never spoke. Noneknew better than he that in the affair of the Princess Carlota nothing could be proved against me, and I fear that he himself suggested my imprisonment."
"Even if it be so it was for your sake he did it. If you had been with the Viceroy, and the Spaniards had been successful, no one knows what perils you would have run, in prison you were safe from all risk."
"Am I boy, that my father must lock me up to keep me out of mischief? I gave up my scheme to please him, and see now how he trusts me."
"Oh! do not speak so, do not speak so, quarrels between Argentines and Spaniards are bad enough, but between father and son they are far worse. Your father has done this out of his care for you; perhaps he is now in danger. You must forgive him and help him."
"What can I do if he joins himself with the enemies of my country? Am I to be a traitor to my country for his sake?"
"Nevertheless he is your father. Where is he? Perhaps in prison."
"I wished to avoid this, he stopped me, and said my scheme was folly. They have commenced it, and now we shall have civil war here in America, with my father on one side, I on the other. I see nothing but misery in the future."
"Have you no faith in God? Mr Gordon told me that you used to study the Bible, yet you seem to despair; he who has faith in God can never despair."
"For months I have not opened the Bible. I begin to believe that there is no God."
"But you did believe there was a God once. You read the Bible and learned lessons of faith from it, have you forgotten them already? When the English came you did your duty, though you said yourself that there was no hope of beating them. Have you less courage now than then? Can you not do your duty and leave the result to God?"
Then Marcelino looked up at Magdalen in surprise, he had never heard her speak so before; her voice was low, and there was a sweet tremulousness in her tones which showed that there was a deep earnestness in what she said. Again he took her hand in his, leaning upon the arm of her chair.
"Do you ever read the Bible?" he asked.
"Every day; my mother taught me when I was quite a little girl in England, and papa promised her that I should always read it. When I came here to live with papa he told me what he had promised my mother for me, and he gave me her Bible which he had kept for me. Every day I read it now."
"When I was at Chascomus with my Morenos I read the Bible every day."
"And when you read the Bible what did you learn from it?"
"Once Gordon told me that the great lesson of the Bible was faith, faith in God. I love my father, till now he has always been to me the best of friends, now we are separated for ever. Think you that I can have faith in God when my father becomes my worst enemy?"
"You have not read the Bible well or you would know that that is impossible. If you have faith in God you will do your duty now as you did before. You will help your father if he is in danger."
"I have to choose between my father and my country. Tell me, what is my duty?"
Magdalen was silent, and a troubled expression came over her face. She had admired the eager patriotism she had seen in Marcelino and in others, but of this sentiment she herself knew nothing, she had but one duty that she knew of in her life, her duty to her father, and she could not understand how any other duty could clash with that.
"Tell me, what is my duty?" said Marcelino again, looking earnestly at her.
"Where your father is, you will learn your duty," replied she.
Then there was silence between them for several minutes, and when they spoke again it was on other subjects, about Doña Josefina, about Lola, about Don Alfonso, but of whatever they talked both thought of Don Roderigo, though of him they spoke no more.
As the shadows deepened on the garden walks there came another footstep through the quinta towards the porch, a footstep very different from the one that had come before, a heavy, plodding footstep, as of one out of whose life the light and strength had departed, but Magdalen started up as she heard it, a smile beaming out from her eyes. That step, though so heavy, was lighter than she had heard it for many a long day, it was her father's step, and he was bringing her the good news of which he had spoken to her. She ran out to meet him with a flush of pleasure on her face.
"Ah! Chica," said he gaily; "how has the long day passed with you?"
And when he saw Marcelino, who stood on the step of the porch waiting for him, he stretched out his hand to him with greater cordiality than was his wont.
"Felicidades!" he said. "In the city every one is asking for you. The general idea is that you are with your mother at the quinta."
"I went there last night," replied Marcelino. "But what has happened? I hardly know anything."
"Then you had better return to the quinta, there you will learn all. A large party has gone out there this evening in search of you. Don't be frightened, Chica," he added, as Magdalen started while she clung to his arm, "all are now friends, and Don Martin Alzaga is in prison."
"And my father, what of him?" asked Marcelino.
At this question Don Alfonso frowned, but he answered gravely:
"Your father is more astute than I thought him; he has managed in some way to keep well with all parties."
"Did not I tell you so?" said Magdalen, with a bright smile. "Don Roderigo would never join a conspiracy against the Viceroy. Don Fausto said that he was his best friend."
"In the friendship of some men there is more danger than in the enmity of others," said Don Alfonso gruffly. Then leading his daughter into the porch, he added, turning to Marcelino:
"At the Quinta de Ponce there are many who wait for you."
Marcelino wished much to ask more, but after this he could remain no longer. Bowing in silence he took his leave of them both, somewhat repaid for the gruffness of the father by the sympathy whichlooked upon him from Magdalen's gray eyes. He had left his horse tied under the trees at the back of the quinta, thoughtfully he walked from the house to where he had left him, mounted, and galloped away.
"How long has he been here?" said Don Alfonso to his daughter, when Marcelino was beyond hearing.
"Nearly an hour," replied Magdalen. "He said there was fighting yesterday in the city. Something good had happened, I can tell that from your face, Tatita."
"Yes, I can breathe freely at last, the danger has passed over, and in no way am I compromised. But listen, Chica, I like not that this Don Marcelino come here so often. The Señor Evaña is a friend of mine, and for friends of his my door is open, but with the family of Don Roderigo I want no friendship. Doña Josefina told me to-day that you had frequently met his daughter at her house, this is bad. Do not forget that such friendships are not convenient."
That evening Doña Constancia could not complain of being lonely at her quinta. At sundown Don Fausto Velasquez arrived in his carriage, bringing his whole family with him, and attended by Don Manuel Belgrano and Captain Asneiros, who rode. Soon after them came Don Roderigo and Colonel Lopez. Don Roderigo asked at once for Marcelino, and was greatly chagrined when he heard that he had left in the afternoon for the city, as he had seen nothing of him there, but his annoyance was not of long continuance; before it was quite dark two more horsemen passed along the road by the quinta gate to the stable, and Evaristo, who had been on the match, came running back to the verandah, announcing them to be his brother and Don Carlos Evaña.
As these two came up to the house after dismounting, both of them looked grave; on Marcelino's face there was even a deep shade of sadness. But Don Roderigo was in exuberant spirits, and warmly embraced his son.
"Evaristo was too quick for me," he said. "I had planned to set you free myself as the crown to the day's work. But you are free, and I have arranged it all; you will receive no more annoyance on that subject."
Then he gave his hand cordially to Evaña, saying:
"Ah, Carlos, at last you have emerged from your seclusion. I welcome you amongst us, we men of experience need the help of younger men like you. We will work together and between us raise up a new Spain in America, with laws and customs fitted to a new world, now that the old Spain is tottering to her fall."
Then Evaña, looking upon the smiling face, listening to the cordial words of Don Roderigo, felt for the first time doubt of the practicability of his own schemes, fear for the success of his darling object, a Republic of Argentines.
"A new Spain in America, with laws and customs fitted to a new world!" said he to himself, "what is this? Can Spaniards be freemen? Can Spaniards and Argentines live together as equals under the free laws of a new Spain?"
His heart was troubled; he walked away by himself under the trees, turning this matter over and over in his mind, and finding no solution to this fresh problem which was based upon the, to him, new idea, that tyranny and injustice were not essential ingredients in the character of a Spaniard. As he walked to and fro in the dim twilight asmall hand was laid upon his arm, and a voice he loved to hear, spoke to him in words soft and low.
"Don Carlos, what are you doing here all alone? You have not been inside even to speak to us, and I have so much to say, so much to thank you for, and mamma too, she has been asking for you. How nobly you have kept your promise. We have heard all about it now, Don Fausto and the Señor Belgrano have told us what you did yesterday."
To all that she said Evaña answered not one word, but he took her hand in his and side by side they walked together under the trees in the dim twilight, she talking on, telling of her joy at seeing her brother once more free, and of her certainty that now all would go well, and that there would be no more talk of quarrels between Spaniards and Creoles. Had not her father said so? And to Dolores that which her father said was truth unquestioned. As Evaña listened to her, her voice was to him as the rippling of waters, a music soothing the trouble of his soul, yet of what she said he knew nothing, for his thoughts were far away peering into the dark future which seemed darker than ever from the veil which had been thrown over it by the words of Don Roderigo.
As Evaña walked away Don Roderigo took his son by the hand and led him inside, where his mother embraced him, chiding him tenderly for having left her, and the others crowded round, overwhelming him with congratulations.
Eagerly they talked together recounting the events of the day past and of the day now closing, of most of which Marcelino was entirely ignorant. As they talked to him his sadness and his anxiety vanished, his face flushed with a proud joy, it seemed to him that the work was already accomplished, that he was already a free citizen of a free people, that the power of Spain was broken for ever in Buenos Aires, that the bonds of Spanish rule were burst asunder, never more to fetter the energies of a young nation.
Then as he looked upon his father, whose face and words were joyous as those of the others, and to whom all ascribed the credit of having by his foresight and intrepidity prevented a murderous struggle, his heart smote him that he had been unjust towards him. His heart yearned towards him, prompting him to confess his mistake and to beg forgiveness. He rose from his seat beside his mother and went to him, taking him by the arm and leading him out from the brilliantly lighted sala to the verandah.
"Forgive me, Tata," he said; "I have been unjust to you in my thoughts. I looked upon you as one of them and you are one of us. I even thought that it was to you that I owed my imprisonment, and accused you of cruelty to me and want of confidence. Forgive me."
"Right willingly I forgive you, my son," replied Don Roderigo; "your fault is nothing more than the inexperience of youth. I did not imprison you, but I could have procured your release sooner had I been able to trust in your discretion. You are an enthusiastic partisan of Don Santiago Liniers, and if affairs had gone badly you might have seriously compromised yourself for his sake, and all to nopurpose. I warn you that this Liniers is not the man you think him, but I tell you he will not rule much longer. The failure of this conspiracy will greatly increase my influence, and I trust that native Argentines will so support me that that influence may be exercised for the welfare of us all. We who are Spaniards must give up our old traditions of conquest and domination, and young Argentines must indulge no more in senseless dreams of republican equality. So, all may yet go well with us, and we may form a free and united people."
"Ah! father, that is just my wish, as I have said to you long ago," rejoined Marcelino. "If the Princess Carlota——"
"Do not speak to me of her," said Don Roderigo, interrupting him; "that scheme is quite inadmissible. Ferdinand VII., though in a French prison, is King of Spain and the Indies."
As Don Roderigo spoke his eye fell upon his daughter and Don Carlos Evaña, who passed near them walking side by side, the low murmur of the girl's voice falling indistinctly upon his ear.
"See," said he, "there is the master spirit of the new generation. He is your dearest friend, may he not also be to me a son? With two such sons to help me I have no fear of the future."
Then Don Roderigo laid his hand upon his son's shoulder leaning upon him, and Marcelino followed with his eyes those two forms which glided slowly along side by side under the trees, seen only by the light of the stars of heaven which twinkled down upon them through the overarching foliage. On the face of Don Roderigo there was hope and confidence, but on his son's there was doubt. His thoughts carried him back to an evening months gone by, when he had stood with Evaña and his sister at the end of the long avenue of the poplar trees, watching the setting of the sun, an evening on which he had seen sorrow and pity in his sister's face as she had looked upon his friend, an evening on which that friend had called him "brother."
As they stood there watching, Dolores saw them and, leaving Evaña, ran gaily towards them. Her father opened his arms to her, and kissing her fondly led her with him back to the sala, while Marcelino walked away and joined his friend under the trees. Passing his arm through his:
"Are you my brother?" he asked him.
"Most certainly I am," replied Evaña.
"And his son?"
"Never."
It was past midnight, most of the household lay asleep, but in one inner room lights were still burning, and the window and the door thrown wide open let in a constant draught of the cool night air, causing the lights to blaze unsteadily and filling the room with flickering shadows. Here four men sat at a small table talking together in low tones. On the table stood a tall glass jug half full of claret, and several goblets.
"I knew nothing of it," said Don Carlos Evaña.
"Where have you been all day that at this hour you come to learn what is old news to all the city?" said Colonel Lopez.
"I remained in my room all day, and saw no one till Marcelino came."
"And the idea of last night, what came of it?"
"Nothing. It was a dream, and as a dream it vanished. I thought to do something with Liniers. I proposed to him to join us. With his great popularity to secure union among us, we might at once have declared our independence, and have achieved it without a struggle. He refused, and the victory of yesterday is sterile."
"From him we can hope nothing," said Marcelino. "Even my father says so, and my father says more yet—he says that his power is nearly at an end."
"Your father does not speak without knowledge," said Don Manuel Belgrano, who was the fourth man present; "without doubt they will send us a new Viceroy from Seville."
"The power is in our hands now," said Marcelino; "what we have to study is the means of keeping it. Such Spaniards as Don Martin Alzaga we can look upon in no other way than as enemies, but all Spaniards are not as he. Spaniards there are who would willingly join us in building up a new Spain, where the will of the people shall be the law of the State, and the welfare of the people the first object of government."
"Dreams!" said Evaña.
"A dream as yet, but it may become a reality," rejoined Marcelino. "To conciliate such Spaniards we must maintain our connection with the Old World, and we must abstain from startling novelties and from rash experiments which may lead us no one knows where."
"Your love for your father blinds you to the truth," said Evaña. "If in all the Viceroyalty there were to be found six Spaniards like Don Roderigo I would support you. The Spaniards who come here, come with but one object, to amass wealth by any means in their power, and then to go back. For us Creoles or for our welfare they care nothing."
"You say true," said Colonel Lopez, bringing his fist down upon the table with a force which made the glasses clatter together. "Whilst Spaniards govern, we are slaves. Out with the Spaniards, and all is possible for men who know that their country is their own."
Marcelino looked up in surprise at his uncle; never before had he heard him speak thus. But Evaña smiled, and from him Marcelino turned away his eyes, for that smile was not one pleasant to look upon—there was no mirth, no joy, in it, nothing but fierce resolve.
"My correspondence with Rio Janeiro has not inspired me with any great hope of good from the Princess Carlota," said Belgrano, "but I would willingly make great sacrifices to keep among us such men as Don Roderigo, and I do not agree with Evaña that there are no other Spaniards like him, I believe there are many."
"There is but one sacrifice necessary," said Marcelino. "Some of us dream of an independent republic, we must give that up. When you write again to Rio state positively that we demand a 'Cabildo Abierto.' If the Princess yield that, all is possible. We shall have a new Spain, in which the majority of the citizens and all the troops will be Argentines. What would you more, Carlos? We shallhave the liberty of a republic and keep the stability of an ancient nation."
"Dreams!" said Evaña. "The Princess is a Spaniard, her advisers are Spaniards and priests."
"We want no Spaniards and no Bourbons," said Colonel Lopez, "we want a government of our own. Spaniards such as Don Roderigo, who have married into our families, and have property here instead of sending it to Spain, are of us, concerning them there is no question. But Spaniards who come from Spain to rule over us and plunder us, what know they of us, or what care we for them? Out with them! We are no longer slaves that we should obey them!"
"As I have said already," said Evaña, "the triumph of yesterday is sterile, and we have need of all our vigilance to prevent the loss of everything we have gained since the victory of the 12th of August."
"Let us watch then," said Marcelino, "and from time to time let us meet together to consult upon the events as they fall out."
"At last then you see the necessity of adopting my idea," said Evaña, "a secret committee."
"I did not say so," said Marcelino.
"Nevertheless it is necessary, my friend," said Don Manuel Belgrano.
"If it has come to that it is time that I retire," said the Colonel; "with secret societies I will have nothing to do. But remember, prepare you everything and when the day comes leave the work to us, we want no civilians interfering with the troops."
So saying the Colonel poured himself out a goblet of water and left the room.
"He says right," said Marcelino, as he went out; "it is for us to prepare the work, for others to do it."
"We must not only prepare, but much we must do also," said Belgrano.
"Without doubt," said Evaña. "The people are accustomed to look to one central power, we will destroy the Spanish power, but we must put another in its place, a central power ruling by the will of the people. This power we must guide ourselves, but we must also hold ourselves ready to act at times as its instruments."
"If we are not careful we shall but substitute one despotism for another," said Marcelino.
"Without danger nothing is done," replied Evaña. "To discuss fully all these points, and to provide as far as we can against all these dangers, it is necessary that we form a secret committee. A secret committee is irresponsible, and its members are pledged to nothing, we will have but one tie between us, that of nationality, we must all be Argentines. Each man will give account to the others of all that he does for the common cause, will consult with them as to what he may purpose to do, and will know where to look for aid in any event that may befall in which the co-operation of others is requisite.
"Who do you propose to invite to join us?" asked Belgrano.
"If you will both join me the committee is formed at once, then we may consult together as to whom we shall invite."
"I refuse no longer, I see that it is necessary," said Marcelino.
"I will join you also," said Belgrano.
"The first I propose to invite," said Evaña, "are Nicolas Rodriguez Peña, Francisco Passo, and Berruti."
"And Dr Vieytes," said Belgrano; "his house will be a good point of reunion for us."
"And I propose Juan Jose Passo, Donado, and Miguel Yrigoyen," said Marcelino.
"I think all those will join us," said Evaña.
"All of them think as we do," said Marcelino; "all demand the liberation of our country from foreign domination; but even among so few there are many opinions as to the means of doing it. What plan of action do you propose in which we may all combine?"
"I propose nothing, the time has not yet come," replied Evaña. "One idea unites us, America for the Americans, let that suffice us for the present."
"America for the Americans," said Belgrano; "let that be our watchword."
Then the three stood up joining hands across the table, repeating together that watchword which expressed more fully than any other words could do, the crude plans and ill-defined aspirations of the new generation:
"America for the Americans."