The vacillations of a youth are by no means a sign of instability. An unknown world opens up before him, at every step he meets some object, to him, full of novelty. When a prize seems within his grasp he draws back his hands and turns away to enquire into the substance of some fleeting shadow, which seems to him to have all the solidity of a great reality. Disappointments fall upon him, and he loses much that was easily attainable in the pursuit of intangible myths. Yet are these disappointments no loss, they are the lessons by which his ignorance is cleared away, and he grows in knowledge as he grows in years. These disappointments are experience, without which no lesson is perfect.
When the beams of the yet invisible sun brighten the sky in the east, men know that the day is at hand. Yet do these beams often raise up mists from earth, moist with the dews of night, which cover their brilliance as with a veil, throwing out a new shadow of darkness; but that darkness is not of the night, it is the herald of the day. Behind that veil rises up the sun, soon to dissipate those shadows, bathing the earth in the full effulgence of his glory.
The Señor Don Ciriaco Asneiros was far from satisfied with the part he had taken in the affair of the 1st January. To him there remained no doubt that he had been the dupe of Doña Josefina. On the evening of the 2nd January he rode out to the Quinta de Ponce, determined to come to some explanation with her. She, confident in her own power of fascination, was ready enough to give him the interview he sought, and soon succeeded in soothing his resentment. As they sat under the verandah together she spoke to him of Magdalen.
"Why do you not marry, Don Ciriaco?" said she to him; "if you were to marry your position would be secure."
"Señora, you know well——"
"Of folly I wish to know nothing, Don Ciriaco; be wise and listen to me. What you require is a rich wife; I can get you one. What think you of Magdalen Miranda?"
"The Inglesita!"
"Why not?"
"Think you I have no eyes, Señora? For Don Marcelino there is no other in the world."
"Marcelino!" exclaimed Doña Josefina, interrupting him. "Have you also that folly in your head? Even though Marcelino worships the ground she steps on he can never marry her. I know you have great regard for Marcelino; believe me you would be doing him a service if you would help to cure him of that folly."
"You said to me, Señora, a rich wife; the old medico is as poor as a rat."
"So they say," replied Doña Josefina, "but I know that when Don Alfonso came here he was rich; it is only a few days since that Fausto told me so. You must not mention this to any one, but when his daughter marries, it will be found out what he has done with his wealth."
"The medico would not have me for a son-in-law, he hates Spaniards," said Don Ciriaco.
"Don Alfonso fears everything; every one who can protect him is his friend. Who can protect him better than the favourite of the Viceroy? Leave that to me." So saying Doña Josefina rose from her chair, and tapping her protegé on the head with her fan glided away.
Don Ciriaco gave but a passing thought to this proposition of Doña Josefina. The man in whose opinion he wished to stand high was Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon. He knew him to be a bitter enemy of Don Alfonso; no alliance with the medico could thus be thought of for one moment. As he so pondered, sitting alone under theverandah, Don Roderigo came out from the house, and, seating himself in the chair lately vacated by Doña Josefina, entered into conversation with him.
"His Excellency the Viceroy has told me," said Don Roderigo, "that you led the Andaluces to his support solely for the purpose of procuring the release of my son."
"It is true," replied Asneiros.
"It was a mistake," said Don Roderigo; "but we will say no more of it. I do not doubt your loyalty to Spain, and I have come to put it to the proof. I have heard from Doña Josefina that you are on intimate terms with the family of Don Alfonso Miranda. Are you aware who he is?"
"I know nothing of him, Don Roderigo," replied Asneiros; "I have met him sometimes at the house of Don Fausto, that is all."
"I have been misinformed then, and I am sorry; your acquaintance with him might have been of great service to me."
"How? I will do anything I can to be of service to you, as you know, Don Roderigo."
"You can be of service only if you are intimate with him, and visit frequently at his quinta."
This conversation was prolonged far into the night, and resulted in the establishment of a complete understanding between the grandee and the soldier, one immediate result of which was, that Don Ciriaco Asneiros received his commission as major before a week had elapsed.
Don Carlos Evaña had received the congratulations of Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon upon his debut as a politician with great coldness. He seemed to have no wish to distinguish himself further in that way, but he surprised many of his friends by adopting a new pursuit, one for which he had in former years shown great distaste; he became a sportsman.
The one business of his left seemed to be to plan excursions into the country for shooting or fishing. On these expeditions he never went alone, Marcelino Ponce de Leon was frequently with him, Don Manuel Belgrano more frequently still, and there were other such as the Passos, Don Juan Jose and Don Francisco, Don Nicholas Rodriguez Peña, Don Miguel Yrigoyen, Don Antonio Beruti, and Don Agustin Donado, some of whom were always of the party. Their favourite point of meeting when starting on these expeditions was at the house of Dr Vieytes in the Calle Venezuela.
Often during the heat of the day when on these expeditions did they seek shelter under the hospitable roof of Don Roderigo at the Quinta de Ponce; not unfrequently, as the season advanced and partridge and snipe flocked to the "boñados de Flores," which are situated about two leagues west of the city, they would spend an hour or two on their return at the quinta of Don Alfonso Miranda.
These excursions seemed to afford to them all great pleasure, they looked forward to them and spoke of them with eagerness, as though they were events of the greatest importance, yet withal the trophies of their prowess were but meagre, and it was no unfrequent chance for them to return with empty bags. Partridges whirred up in frontof them, the snipe piped his shrill cry and hovered before them, then flew away unharmed. If they went fishing it not rarely happened that some unlucky fish would hook and have full leisure to unhook himself again, ere the careless fisherman found that the bait was gone. They were but poor sportsmen after all, though so enthusiastic.
Dolores had many a laugh at them, telling them that she feared they would fare but badly if they had to depend for food upon their own exertions. And one day when Don Carlos took Magdalen a brace of snipe, after a long day's sport in the bañados, she held them up, one in each hand, saying merrily:
"Poor little things, how clever you must be! It took six men with guns all day long to catch you!"
In fact, during these excursions the shooting and the fishing occupied but a very small portion of their time, most of it was taken up in conversation. In knots of two or three, or all in one group, they would sit for hours by the side of a stream or under the shade of some clump of trees, talking together. Their talk was of the events of the day, and of the influence of these events upon the future. These friendly sportsmen formed in reality a secret committee; one watchword they had among them:
"America for the Americans!"
But of the meaning of this phrase there was as many opinions among them as there were speakers.
During the year 1809, to the end of which these sporting excursions continued, events succeeded each other with great rapidity. Each event as it fell out was followed by an excursion, during which all its bearings were discussed under the free air of heaven; if any acquaintance chanced to join them, discussion ceased, and their talk was solely of their sport.
Don Manuel Belgrano had taken a very prominent part in the affair of the 1st January, his conduct gained him the confidence of the Viceroy, who after that day began to consult him on many occasions. One of the chief difficulties of the Viceroy was the empty state of the treasury, the consequence of his lavish expenditure. For this Don Manuel Belgrano set himself to work to devise a remedy, and found it in free trade.
The restrictions imposed upon commerce by the Spanish colonial system paralyzed the productive industries of her colonies. Their trade was restricted to certain channels, marked out by the Consulado of Cadiz. The ports of Monte Video and Buenos Aires were closed to foreign merchants and to foreign ships.
Belgrano proposed to throw open the port of Buenos Aires to English ships and to invite English merchants to settle there, satisfied that a brisk trade would soon spring up, upon which a revenue might be levied ample for all the purposes of Government. With the approval of the Viceroy, he proceeded to draw up an extensive memorial on the subject. Previous to submitting it to the Viceroy himself, he wished to discuss it in detail with the members of the secret committee. In April a shooting excursion was planned to the neighbourhood of Quilmes; Don Manuel Belgrano was of the party, carrying his memorial with him.
It was evening, most of the sportsmen had returned to the city, but two of them, Don Carlos Evaña and Don Manuel Belgrano, rode off together to the Quinta de Ponce.
"Marcelino was not with you to-day," said Doña Constancia, as she sat with her two guests under the verandah.
"No, he could not leave the city," replied Don Carlos; "I shall see him to-morrow, have you any message for him?"
"You will not have to wait till-to-morrow, for here he comes," said Dolores, jumping up from her chair as a horseman passed along the road, and walking away to greet him as he dismounted.
"Is Carlos here?" asked Marcelino, as he walked with his sister to the house after giving up his horse to a slave.
"Yes, and Don Manuel Belgrano," said Dolores; "they did not expect you, they said you were too busy to leave the city."
"I have news. I could not have slept to-night if I had not seen Carlos to tell him."
"It is good news, I can see by your face. Is Juan Carlos coming back?"
"No, but some one has come."
"Who?"
"Guess."
"The Princess Carlota?"
"No such luck. But what do you know of the Princess Carlota?"
"Oh! I know things. I know more than you think."
"Then as you are so wise I will tell you. A new Viceroy has come from Spain."
"A new Viceroy!" exclaimed Dolores; then, breaking from him she ran before him to the verandah.
"Mamma!" said she, "great news, there is a new Viceroy, who has come out from Spain. Now we shall be all quiet again, there will be no more quarrels, papa said so, don't you remember?"
As she spoke, Don Carlos started to his feet, and Don Manuel Belgrano, biting his lip pressed his hand upon the breast of his coat, in the pocket of which there was a thick roll of paper.
Marcelino, bending over his mother, kissed her, and then turned to shake hands with his two friends, who stood silent, waiting for him to speak.
"It is true," he said, as he held their hands in his. "Last week Don Baltazar Hidalgo de Cisneros arrived in Monte Video, bringing his appointment by the Junta of Seville as Viceroy of Buenos Aires. When I tell you that Don Martin Alzaga is already his confidential friend I tell you all."
"Don Martin Alzaga! But he is in Patagones," said Doña Constancia.
"He was, mamita," said Marcelino; "but his exile was short. Elio sent an armed vessel to rescue him and the others; he has been living at his ease in Monte Video for nearly a month now."
"My God! Is there then war between us and Monte Video?"
"Not now, Señora," said Evaña. "This new Viceroy of ours will doubtless soon bring us all to order and make us all good friends again."
As he spoke, another horseman came up the road, and, dismounting at the gate, threw his reins over a post, and walked up the narrow pathway to the house. It was Don Roderigo.
The three younger men stood in silence waiting for him, their anxiety visible in their faces.
"Ah! Marcelino has been before me," said Don Roderigo cheerfully. "You know the news already."
"Yes," replied Don Manuel Belgrano. "How long has this new Viceroy been in Monte Video."
"A week. The north winds have kept the news from us till now. He was expected in Colonia to-day."
"Then to-morrow or the next day we may expect him here," said Evaña.
"And the Junta of Monte Video?" asked Belgrano.
"It is dissolved."
"And the members imprisoned for their rebellion against the legal authority?" asked Belgrano.
"No," replied Don Roderigo slowly; "they have not been imprisoned. Their proceedings were ill-judged, but they were actuated by a regard for the interests of their country, they cannot be considered as criminals."
"And now they will be the counsellors of our new Viceroy," said Marcelino. "That may not be, Liniers will not give up his authority to men who have shown themselves to be his enemies."
"Quietly, my son," said Don Roderigo, as Doña Constancia looked up in alarm at Marcelino's indignant words. "Liniers is a loyal servant of Spain, though he is a Frenchman; he will yield at once his authority to a successor legally appointed by the Junta Central."
"Liniers holds his authority from the King of Spain; when the Junta Central have re-established the King, then the King may cancel an appointment which the King made," said Marcelino.
"The appointment of Liniers came from the people," said Evaña. "Are the people to have no voice in this matter?"
"Liniers has told me of the memorial in favour of free trade, which you had promised to draw up for him," said Don Roderigo, turning to Belgrano, "it will now be useless so far as he is concerned, but if you will oblige me with a copy of it I will take care that it be submitted to the attention of the new Viceroy."
"With much pleasure, Don Roderigo," said Belgrano. "Within two days you shall have a copy, and believe me, that if this Don Baltazar de Cisneros seeks the real welfare of the country, he cannot inaugurate his rule better than by opening our ports to foreign trade."
"I am perfectly of your opinion, Don Manuel," replied Don Roderigo; "with a Spanish Viceroy, reforms are possible which could not be entertained under the rule of a foreigner."
"You have probably seen Don Santiago Liniers to-day," said Evaña. "Does he himself announce his intention of yielding his authority into the hands of this new Viceroy?"
"He does. Of that there could be no question," replied Don Roderigo.
After some further conversation Don Roderigo and Doña Constanciaretired into the house, and the three friends walked away from the verandah to the gate, where they paused, looking up and down the road and around them, to make sure that no one was within hearing. Evaña was the first to speak.
"America for the Americans!" said he. "Now has come the time, my friends, for us to put our principles to the test. If this Spaniard lands, we shall lose every advantage we have gained."
"I am not surprised that Liniers should declare his intention of yielding at once," said Belgrano. "He always yields to the first counsellor who gains his ear. He has shown great confidence in me for several months past, I will go to him to-morrow, and I think I can persuade him to put himself at the head of the people."
"You are aware that he rejected a similar proposal from me?" said Evaña.
"If he yield to Cisneros he signs his own death-warrant," said Marcelino. "He is in no such danger then."
"I shall show him his danger," said Belgrano, "and we must also devise means to prove to him that the people and the troops will support him."
"I can manage that easily, by a popular demonstration," said Evaña. "I have also another piece of news to tell you, of which my father knows nothing," said Marcelino. "A gentleman, who is nominally travelling for amusement, has to-day arrived from Rio Janeiro, he has brought me a letter from Don Saturnino, his name is Don Feline Contucci. He brings for you, Belgrano, an autograph letter from the Princess Carlota, he is in reality an emissary of hers."
"Bah!" exclaimed Evaña. "Unless we concentrate all our energies upon one object, we lose everything."
But Marcelino and Belgrano looked at each other, and each read the thought of the other in his glance. There was hope yet of reconciling all differences, and of founding a new Spain in America.
The news of the appointment and arrival of a new Viceroy spread rapidly through Buenos Aires, rousing in the Spaniards hope that their dominion had not yet passed away from them; awakening in the breasts of native Argentines something of fear, for the glamour of centuries is not to be effaced by a year or two of light.
Days of doubt and hesitation succeeded; the new Viceroy approached Buenos Aires with the greatest caution, sending emissaries before him to prepare the people for his coming, and to sound the disposition of the leading citizens and of the troops. When he at last reached Colonia it was with such an escort, as would have befitted a general advancing upon the capital of an enemy. Then Liniers declared openly that he had not the slightest intention of opposing in any way the will of the Junta of Seville and would himself aid the new Viceroy to establish his authority. These words of the Reconquistador were sedulously spread about the city and roused the indignation of the people. They thronged the street in which stood the private residence of their chosen leader, shouting that they would have none other than him to rule over them, and calling upon him to come forth and speak to them.
"You hear the shouts of the mob?" said Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, who was at that moment with the Viceroy. "As loud as that will they shout 'Viva Cisneros!' when Don Baltazar thinks fit to cross the river."
Then went out Don Santiago Liniers on to his balcony and spoke to the people such words as seemed fittest to quiet them, caring nothing what pledges he might take in their esteem, thinking nothing of the trust they placed in him. To him they listened, and as he concluded by requesting them to disperse, they tossed their hats in the air shouting again:
"Viva Don Santiago Liniers! No queremos otro Virey. Viva!"
Then acceding to his request, each man retired to his own home.
Marshal Don Santiago Liniers standing on his balcony, looking at them as they slowly dispersed, listening to their shouts and cries of confidence and trust, words which he was never more to hear, was aware of a tall man leaning against a door-post some fifty yards off, watching him intently. From this man he could not withdraw his eyes, he felt attracted to him by some deadly fascination for which he could not account, yet there was nothing peculiar in the attitude of this man.
"Don Roderigo," said the Viceroy, stepping back into the room behind him, "look here one moment, tell me if you know this man?"
Don Roderigo stepped onto the balcony and looked over into the street, but the man had left his post and was walking slowly away with his back towards them.
"Is not that Evaña?" said the Viceroy.
"Evaña? impossible!" replied Don Roderigo. "There is nothing for which Evaña has greater contempt than for the shouts of a mob." And so saying he went back and looked no more.
But Liniers lingered on the balcony, still fascinated by the slowly receding figure of the tall man who had looked at him so intently. He watched him till he reached a corner, turned it, and vanished from sight. But it seemed to the Viceroy that, as he vanished, he turned once more to look at him, and raised his hand in angry menace toward the evening sky.
Still borne on the evening air from neighbouring streets came the shouts of the citizens slowly dispersing to their homes:
"Viva Don Santiago Liniers! No queremos otro Virey. Viva!"
Listening to these shouts, the Viceroy then turned his gaze to the evening sky toward which that figure had raised its threatening hand. To the west, where the sun had sunk below the horizon, the sky was covered by broad bands of scarlet and yellow, two of scarlet with one of yellow between them, and over these there hung a dark, black cloud, sinking lower and lower, till the crimson glories of the sunset faded away into the darkness. Over that dark cloud the sky was of the purest blue, and straight before him in the midst of it there shone one brilliant star.
Clutching the rail of the balcony with both hands, the Viceroy gazed upon this star, and as he gazed again through the evening air there came the sound of voices shouting from far off, in accents clear and distinct, his own name. He thought of what he was about to do; again he thought of the people who had placed their destinies in hishands, and a sort of dreamy hallucination fell upon; he forgot that he was in Buenos Aires, he forgot that he was Viceroy, again in memory he stood in the streets of Paris as he had stood in his youth, and the shouts changed from acclamations to yells of deadly menace:
"Ca ira! Les aristocrats a la lanterne."
He shivered, an unknown terror seized upon him, he averted his rapt gaze and turned back quickly into the room. Walking to a side table he filled a goblet with wine and drained it at a draught. As he filled the goblet, his hand trembled so that he spilled some of the wine upon the table, whence it flowed upon the uncarpeted floor; the rays of a lamp falling over the spot lighted up the drops of wine as they trickled slowly from the table, falling upon the floor in great red splashes like drops of blood. Liniers started back covering his face with his hands.
"What is the matter with you, Don Santiago?" said a friendly voice in his ear. "Let us dine, for all is ready and we have no time to lose."
Two hours after nightfall three men, muffled in large cloaks, left the fort by the postern gate, and walked away towards the beach, where a boat awaited them. He who walked in the centre was Don Santiago Liniers; they who attended him were Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon and Don Martin Rodriguez, confidential friends, who had counselled him to set at nought the will of the people, who had made him Viceroy. The three men reached the boat without molestation, stepped into it, and were rowed to a small armed vessel, which immediately weighed anchor, spread her sails to the wind, and steered for Colonia.
The next morning, as Don Baltazar de Cisneros, in a loose dressing-gown, was imbibing his morning cup of coffee, an aide-de-camp came hurriedly into the room, announcing the approach of the Señor Mariscal Don Santiago Liniers. Cisneros started up from his chair, in his alarm dropping his cup onto the floor.
"Liniers!" exclaimed he, "with what force?"
"Two friends are with him," replied the aide-de-camp.
The next moment Liniers stood in the doorway, a smile curled his lip as he saw the agitation of his rival, and the broken cup lying on the floor at his feet. For a minute the two Viceroys stood looking intently one at the other, then they mutually advanced, and opening their arms embraced like brothers.
Some hours later Don Baltazar de Cisneros walked on the azotea of his house in earnest conversation with Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon. "I have been informed that I can place implicit confidence in you," said Don Baltazar, "and that your counsel may be of great service to me."
Don Roderigo bowed and replied:
"I trust I may merit your confidence, Don Baltazar, and it is not unlikely that I may be of service to you. I have lived half my life in Buenos Aires, and am intimately acquainted with most of the leading citizens. In any way in which I can aid you, you may securely count upon me."
"So I was given to understand before I left Spain," answered Don Baltazar. "I will give you a proof of my confidence by telling youmy secret instructions and asking your advice as to how I can carry them out. In the first place I am instructed to send Liniers under arrest to Spain, and to disarm the native militia of Buenos Aires. I see great difficulties in the way of accomplishing either of these two clauses in my instructions."
"They are neither of them to be thought of at present," said Don Roderigo. "Don Santiago Liniers is immensely popular, not only in Buenos Aires, but throughout the provinces, his arrest would provoke an open rebellion against which we should be powerless. You must make use of his popularity to establish your own authority, and at the same time seize every opportunity of undermining that popularity, which is a great source of danger to us. To disarm the militia is at present a simple impossibility, thanks to the thick-headedness of Don Martin Alzaga."
"What steps would you then advise me to take? You say that the excitement of the populace in Buenos Aires is so great that it would hardly be safe for me to cross the river?"
"Your presence in Buenos Aires would ruin everything. I would advise you to send a delegate in your name to take command of the troops, and leave the nominal authority for a time in the hands of Don Santiago Liniers. In a month or two when this excitement has cooled down, you may safely come to us, and you will find everything prepared for your reception."
"Ha! Don Santiago," said Cisneros, as Liniers ascended to the azotea, and came towards them, "I have been talking with Don Roderigo, and find that his opinion is the same as yours, that it would be unsafe for me to cross over to Buenos Aires as yet."
"Your Excellency may have perfect confidence in the wisdom of any advice given you by Don Roderigo," said Liniers.
"Not less confidence than I have in your experience and loyalty, Don Santiago," replied Cisneros. "Your services are highly appreciated in Spain, and it will be a fresh claim upon the liberality of the Junta if you will consent to retain your office for a month or two longer, by which time you will be able to smooth matters sufficiently for me to resume the reins of government myself."
"I fear your Excellency overrates my influence with the citizens of Buenos Aires."
"Not in the least, Don Santiago," said Don Roderigo; "I have explained the matter to his Excellency, and we have both the fullest confidence in you. It is to you alone that the Junta can look for the establishment of its authority in Buenos Aires."
"The Junta will have no cause to find their confidence misplaced," replied Liniers.
Two days after this, Don Santiago Liniers returned to Buenos Aires, taking with him General Nieto, who held a commission from the new Viceroy as commandant-general of all the forces of Spain in the viceroyalty of Buenos Aires.
The two Viceroys separated with great cordiality on both sides, and with mutual expressions of esteem and confidence.
The return of Marshal Liniers to Buenos Aires, quieted the excitement of the people, which had risen to a dangerous pitch, but did nothing to allay the distrust of Liniers which was felt by the members of the secret committee.
A shooting excursion was at once planned by Don Carlos Evaña to the bañados of Flores. On this occasion not one member of the committee was absent. Seated under a clump of trees close to a deserted rancho, their guns unloaded, their dogs lying lazily stretched out in the sunshine, they discussed the topic of the day, the avowed intention of Marshal Liniers to surrender his power into the hands of Don Baltazar de Cisneros, the assumption by General Nieto of the command of the native troops.
The sun was sinking towards the horizon, when their dogs became uneasy, and, leaving them, went up to the deserted rancho, snuffing round the walls, some of them barking furiously.
"What is the matter with the dogs?" said Evaña impatiently.
"An opossum or a skunk, or some such beast," said Belgrano.
"I'll have a look," said Beruti, starting to his feet.
Round the rancho he walked but could see nothing, while the dogs became more furious in their clamour. He tried the door but it was fast shut, and he could find no means of opening it.
"That door was open," said Marcelino, "when we came, for I went in and looked through the rancho, and it was empty."
"Let us go," said Dr Vieytes. "It is late already and I think we have decided that we can do nothing until we have secured the troops."
"I will first see what is in that rancho," said Evaña, taking up his gun.
Walking up to the door of the rancho he tried it, as Beruti had done before him. He could not open it, it was evidently fastened on the inside. He raised his gun in both hands and struck a furious blow with the butt upon the side-panel of the door. The stock of the gun broke short off, leaving a useless iron tube in his hands, but the door remained uninjured.
Perhaps it was as well for you, Don Carlos Evaña, that you did not succeed in bursting open that door. Behind it, in darkness, stood a man who held a cocked pistol in each hand. Had you crossed the threshold of that door, you would never have recrossed it alive.
"What are you doing, Carlos?" said Marcelino, seizing him by the arm. "Come, we have belayed here too long already."
"Come! come, Evaña!" shouted the others; "we may shoot a few birds as we go back."
"And we have need of special caution just now lest we excite suspicion," said Marcelino.
Evaña stopped, picked up the broken stock, and walked slowly away after the others, every now and then looking back upon the rancho, and never losing sight of it till they were free from the bañado and on the high road for the city.
"Do not let us go on to town yet; let us go to the quinta and see Magdalen," said Evaña to Marcelino, as they reached the Plaza Miserere. "I have forgotten how the tea tastes out of her porcelain cups."
"Let us go," rejoined Marcelino; yet his eye did not brighten as he acceded to the proposition of his friend, and something very like a sigh issued from his lips.
"My brother, you are sad," said Evaña, stretching out his hand and laying it upon his shoulder. "Do Magdalen's grey eyes look less kindly upon you than they did formerly."
"Magdalen's grey eyes never look upon me now, Carlos. She shuns me, all our old intimacy is at an end. What I have done to offend her I do not know, for I have spoken to her and she refuses me any explanation."
"Let us follow the others," said Evaña.
"No, let us go on," replied Marcelino; "she will talk to you, and her voice is music to me still."
They found Magdalen alone, seated by the fireside, busily sewing. Her eyes brightened for a moment as they fell upon Don Carlos Evaña, who was the first to enter the room, but the light in them died away as she saw Marcelino enter behind him. In silence she stretched out her hand to each of them, without rising from her chair.
"Papa is in the quinta," she said, as they seated themselves without invitation. "Or perhaps he may have walked up the road to meet Don Ciriaco, who said he would be back before dark."
"Don Ciriaco comes very often to see you now," said Marcelino.
"He is more constant in his friendships than some gentlemen I know," replied Magdalen. "It is months since you were last here, Don Carlos."
"Not months, Señorita," replied Evaña, "but weeks; when I have been here I have generally met Don Ciriaco, who is a gentleman whose friendship I have no wish to cultivate."
"Papa and Doña Josefina think very highly of him, and they know him better than you do, Don Carlos. You have been out shooting to-day in the bañados, have you not? What did you shoot?"
"Nothing; I broke my gun, but the others have some birds in their bags."
"I was on the azotea, and saw you passing this morning. Did you not meet Don Ciriaco?"
"No. Did he go out shooting too?"
"Not when you did, but he came here in the afternoon, and when I told him I had seen you pass he said he would go and join you,but how he is to shoot without a gun I do not know. Papa offered to lend him his, but he went without it, and alone on foot."
To this Evaña answered nothing, but sat biting the ends of his moustache, while Marcelino twirled his hat round between his fingers, looking upon the ground in silence.
"If you had let me break open the door of that rancho we should have found a skunk inside," said Evaña.
"It is quite possible," replied Marcelino.
"A skunk!" said Magdalen. "And in a rancho! If you had found one what would you have done with it?"
"Shot him," replied Evaña.
Don Alfonso Miranda had walked up the road, but he returned alone, and Magdalen made tea for them in her porcelain cups. All the evening Marcelino and Evaña waited, at every sound they looked towards the door, and there was a constraint over them all, but Don Ciriaco did not come back, at which Magdalen expressed her surprise, but her father said nothing.
When their guests had at last taken their departure, Don Alfonso called to Magdalen to come and sit by him. She seated herself in her favourite low chair, and recommenced her sewing without making any remark. Presently her father spoke to her.
"This Don Marcelino does not often now trouble us with his presence, Chica," he said; then he paused as though he expected a reply, but none came, and he continued:
"He seems almost as keen a sportsman as our friend Don Carlos, and when he is not shooting birds I suppose he has all his time pretty well taken up paying court to the fair Elisa. When a man chooses the prettiest girl in the city for his lady-love he does well to keep a strict watch on all rivals."
"Are they to be married soon?" asked Magdalen, with the greatest composure.
"I know nothing about it, I never troubled my head with such matters," replied Don Alfonso. "Who told you that they were to be married?"
"No one; but Doña Josefina said one day——I don't know what she said, something, but what does it matter?"
"It is about time for me to think of finding a husband for you Chica."
"Oh! don't say that, please don't papa," said Magdalen, for the first time that evening showing any animation, "I don't want to marry."
"All girls say that," replied Don Alfonso, "but the most of them do marry for all that."
"Some don't," said Magdalen.
"And some find husbands for themselves, without waiting for their fathers to find them for them, as they ought to do. There is a gentleman comes here very often who does not come to see me. What do you think he comes here for, Chica?" said Don Alfonso, with something of tenderness in his tone.
"I don't know what you mean, papa," said Magdalen, flushing scarlet.
"Ah ha! Chica! You think that we old folks have not our eyesabout us. You know who I mean, you need not tremble, for I am not angry, for he is a gallant soldier, and if you would like him for a husband I should be proud to call him my son. You must not expect me to get a rich husband for you, for I am poor, very poor."
"But, papa, he does not often come here now, and——" here Magdalen stopped in confusion for she hardly knew what she was saying.
"Not come here often!" said Don Alfonso, laughing; "why he was here three times last week and again to-day. Do you want him to come every day, Chica?"
"Who are you talking about, papa? Here to-day! and three times last week, no one comes here so often but Don Ciriaco Asneiros."
"Don Ciriaco, the gallant major, who is winning his way up from grade to grade, who is the confidential friend of Marshal Liniers, and who will soon be one of the most powerful men in Buenos Aires. Of whom else should I speak but of him? Why does he come here so often if it is not to see you, and who is there that talks to you so much as he does?"
"Don Ciriaco!" exclaimed Magdalen, and she hung her head in bewilderment. It was true as her father said that he came very often, true also that when others were there he almost monopolised her conversation, but he had never given her the slightest reason to believe that he had any tender feeling for her, in fact he made no secret to her of his boundless admiration for her friend Dolores Ponce de Leon, and she had felt pity for him, and had shown it to him in many ways, for she saw that he had small hope that his love would ever be returned, and she thought herself that it was utterly impossible that it should be so. So she had felt pity for him, and had shown him great sympathy and consideration, for was she not also indulging in a hopeless love. Now her father spoke to her of him as a possible husband. She thought of some jesting words which Doña Josefina had said to her not many weeks ago, concerning the success of a gallant soldier who both in war and in love carried everything before him. These words had dyed her own cheeks crimson, as she thought of a soldier who was to her the impersonation of all that was brave and noble, but could it be possible that Doña Josefina had meant quite another man, no other than this Don Ciriaco? Then she began to hate this Don Ciriaco, and to think of the awkward manners and of the rude speech which had made him a laughing-stock to the polished youth among whom she had first met him at the house of Doña Josephina.
Don Alfonso waited for a space to see what answer his daughter would give him, but as he got no further reply than that one exclamation, Don Ciriaco! he spoke again.
"And why not Don Ciriaco?" said he. "Why have you encouraged him to come here so often to see you if you are to be frightened when I speak about him?"
"Don Ciriaco, papa! Don Ciriaco never came here to see me. If no one else is here he always talks to you, and if he comes when you are out he always waits till you come back. He comes to see you, papa, he thinks much about you, he talks more to me about youthan about anything else. He seems never to be tired of listening when I talk to him about you."
"About me!" exclaimed Don Alfonso, startled. "What can you find to tell him about me?"
"Hundreds of things, papa. You have no idea what strange questions he asks me at times."
"What questions? Tell me what questions he asks you?"
"If you are away he always asks me where you have gone, and how long you have been away, and when you will be back. And he always wants to know all about every one who comes to see you, especially about Don Carlos Evaña, and what he comes to see you for, and what he talks to you about. Several times he has asked me if you get any letters from Europe or from Rio Janeiro. I think he is very rude to ask me such questions, I have told him so more than once and have refused to answer him, but he will ask them, I suppose he knows no better. Some of the young men at Doña Josefina's used to call him the barbarian."
"And does he never speak to you about—about—does he never talk love-nonsense to you?"
"Never, papa, I assure you. If he had, I should have known better than to listen to him."
Then Don Alfonso bowed his head on his hands and spoke no more to his daughter, sitting motionless in his chair for more than an hour, and when he at last raised his head, and rose from his seat to retire to his own room, Magdalen saw again on his face that old shadow of care and anxiety which had vanished from it during the last few months.
"If not a tyrant, then a traitor, so is every Spaniard," said Don Alfonso as Magdalen lifted up her face to his for a kiss before retiring.
As Magdalen lay down to rest, she buried her face in her pillow, longing to cry, but the tears would not come. Her sleep was troubled; in the morning she rose unrefreshed with a vague fear of something dreadful impending. The day passed quietly, just as other days did, and in the evening came Don Ciriaco, who was received by Don Alfonso with more than usual cordiality, but Magdalen pleaded a headache and hardly spoke to him at all.
A week after this, Doña Josefina Viana de Velasquez had one evening a numerous company in her sala. The occasion was a tertulia, an undress ball, given in welcome to her niece Constancia who had returned to the city after spending the summer at her quinta. At least such was the pretext announced for the tertulia, but Doña Josefina and her husband Don Fausto were fond of indulging their hospitable tastes and delighted to fill their rooms with young people and to give due scope to the flirting propensities of their friends, flirtation being in the opinion of the lady the most important business of life.
Some few days before this tertulia, she had paid a visit to Don Alfonso Miranda at his quinta, and noticing that Magdalen looked pale and out of spirits, had taken her back with her to spend some days in the city.
This day of the tertulia was also the day for one of the shooting excursions of the secret committee, and Doña Constancia told her aunt that she did not think Marcelino would be there that evening. But Marcelino heard that day from Evaña that Magdalen was staying with Doña Josefina; he hurried back to town, determined not to lose such an opportunity of conversing at his ease with her, away from the watchful eyes and often sneering words of her father. For months he had missed the smile of welcome with which she had been wont to greet him, and report had told him that the heart which he had once fondly thought was his had been given to another. He resolved to know all that evening, at the house of his aunt Josefina.
It was late when he entered the sala, the first person he met as he went in was Elisa Puyrredon. He and the fair Elisa had been playmates together when they were children; his little playmate was now a beautiful woman, with whom romping games were things of the far-off past. Yet the frank cordiality of her friendship for him had left him nothing to regret.
One jesting compliment Marcelino exchanged with the fair Elisa, and then went up to salute his aunt.
"How cruel of you to leave Elisa to herself," said Doña Josefina; "do not you see they are just going to dance?"
"I have been shooting all day, aunt, I had rather talk to you than dance."
"Stupid!" said she.
But Marcelino hardly heard the remark, looking eagerly all round the large saloon for a face that he could not see, yet Magdalen, for whom he was looking, was close to him. She had seen, him enter the room, seen him speak to Elisa Puyrredon, and had then retired into the deep recess of a window as he approached to speak with Doña Josefina.
"For whom are you looking? She is there where you left her," said Doña Josefina.
"Yes, I see she is, aunt, but she is going to dance with Valentin."
"With Valentin! I will soon arrange that for you. Give me your arm, I have been looking for Valentin all evening."
So Marcelino was walked off by his aunt, and presently found himself dancing with Elisa Puyrredon.
Don Ciriaco Asneiros had taken so much trouble to ingratiate himself with Don Alfonso Miranda, and had succeeded so well by the assistance of Doña Josefina, that that lady made sure one of her schemes would end successfully. She was therefore greatly chagrined when she learned from Don Alfonso, on the occasion of her last visit to the Miserere, that her plan of marrying her protegé to Magdalen was likely to fall through. Don Alfonso had spoken to her vaguely of a certain distrust of the motives of Don Ciriaco for his repeated visits to the quinta, but Doña Josefina had found no great difficulty in laughing him out of his suspicions, she herself had no doubt whatever of the reasons which took that gallant officer so often to the Plaza Miserere. She had twitted him once or twice upon the subject, and all his answers had tended to prove to her that he had quite given up any hopes he might ever have formed of winning the love of her nieceDolores, and now thought only of Magdalen. Thus she treated him with greater favour than ever and began to take some real interest in him, for his manners had greatly improved under her tuition. He was high in favour with Marshal Liniers and with Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, and General Nieto seemed to place great confidence in him; her pupil was evidently a man who would do her credit.
Of all this Doña Josefina was thinking to herself as she watched her nephew dancing with Elisa Puyrredon, flattering herself that she was managing very well for the happiness of all concerned.
"Once we dispose of Magdalen, all will come right," said she to herself; "even of Carlos I do not despair, thought I confess both he and Dolores are a puzzle to me."
When this dance was over Marcelino left his fair partner and renewed his search for Magdalen, whom he found seated by herself, looking with lustreless eyes upon the gay scene about her, as though her thoughts were far away. His cordial words of greeting brought no smile to her face, to his questions she answered only in monosyllables, and when he asked her to dance she declined, saying that she was too tired. As he seated himself beside her, she rose, saying something about Doña Josefina, and went to where that lady was sitting and spoke to her.
"What nonsense, Niña," said Doña Josefina. "I did not bring you into town to mope yourself in your room, you can do that at the quinta. Come, I know what you want, you have hardly danced at all, if you won't dance to please yourself you must dance to please me. Here is a great favourite of mine coming, I don't dance, you will dance with him for me, won't you?"
Before Magdalen could answer, Don Ciriaco Asneiros stood before her, bowing low and asking for her company in the next dance. Doña Josefina answered for her, and she felt obliged to go. As they took their place Don Ciriaco began talking to her of Dolores, a subject on which she was ever ready to listen, and more so now than ever, for she had not seen Dolores for months till that evening, and when she had met her, Dolores seemed strangely cold to her and had hardly spoken to her three words.
Marcelino remained in the dancing-saloon for some minutes exchanging salutations and compliments with such of his acquaintance as passed near him, but keeping his eye constantly upon one couple who were in earnest conversation together. He saw the dull, vacant look disappear from Magdalen's face, a faint colour came into her cheeks, and——he waited to see no more, he bowed his head as though in answer to some unspoken question, and with his lips firmly pressed together left the room.
While the more youthful friends of Doña Josefina's were amusing themselves by dancing, Don Fausto and some more particular friends of his had retired to the dining-room. The large table running down the centre of this room was covered with salvers and dishes of sweetmeats, and with trays on which stood tall water-jars, surrounded by glass goblets of very varied design. Such was the refreshment provided by the abstemious Porteños for their friends on such an occasion as the present. In the intervals between the dances,servants waited upon the dancers, handing round these sweetmeats, which they ate from small plates with spoons, then other servants followed with the trays covered with goblets of water. Doña Josefina pressed the sweetmeats upon her friends, telling them that after eating they might drink water with safety. At one time during the evening chocolate was handed round, but there were no edibles of more solid description. On the dining-room table there were also jugs of claret, and bottles of the more fiery wines of Spain, but these were reserved for the use of such friends of Don Fausto as cared not for dancing.
When Marcelino entered the dining-room, Don Fausto with several of his friends were collected in a small knot at the end of the room; all looked round as he entered, and their conversation ceased.
"I give you welcome, Marcelino," said Don Fausto. "Shut the door and come here."
Don Fausto stood leaning against the table, in front of him sat Don Gregorio Lopez, beside him stood his son the Colonel, several others stood around. Don Juan Martin Puyrredon was speaking as Marcelino entered, and resumed as soon as the door was again closed.
"It comes to this," said he; "the excitement of the people has warned off our new Viceroy for a time, but that will pass. With the troops under the command of General Nieto, the influence of Marshal Liniers will be slowly undermined. Liniers himself has been cajoled by promises, the disorders in the interior will afford a pretext for the reorganisation of Spanish troops. What say you, Señores? Are we to welcome this Cisneros amongst us, and give ourselves up again to the rule of such men as Elio and Don Martin Alzaga?"
"We have had enough of them," said Colonel Lopez. "Now has come the time for us to demand our due share in the administration. What want we with Viceroys who are sent from Spain? There are men amongst us who know well how to lead us if Don Santiago persists in retiring."
"Quietly, my son," said Don Gregorio, "without Spaniards there is no organisation among us. Let us seek by every means in our power to conciliate such Spaniards as are friendly to us."
"We can do well enough without a Viceroy," said Don Juan Martin; "but we want experienced soldiers for our security, of whom there are many among the Spaniards; and we want a governing Junta, in which Spaniards of experience would naturally form the majority, but that the Junta of Seville should choose a Viceroy for us is, in my opinion, degradation to us."
"A Junta!" exclaimed Marcelino; "that was the idea of Don Martin Alzaga."
"And the idea was not a bad one if we had had no Viceroy, but at that time we had one," replied Don Juan Martin. "Don Santiago Liniers was then the legally-appointed representative of the King of Spain; but there is now no King in Spain. Each province in Spain has its Junta, we have an equal right to have a Junta of our own."
"Now that Liniers deserts us we remain without a legal head to the government," said Don Gregorio.
"In all the year of the English invasion we were in the same position, and it appears to me that we were none the worse for it," said Colonel Lopez.
Then others entered the room, and the conversation became more guarded.
When Marcelino returned to the sala he found his friend Evaña, who had told him that he was not going to the tertulia, standing in a doorway strangely excited.
"I have been looking for you, I could not see you anywhere. Come with me, I have news for you, which I am afraid will pain you greatly, but I could not keep it from you." So saying Evaña led the way into a small ante-room where they could talk undisturbed.
"What was the name of the vessel in which our friend Gordon was about to sail for Lisbon, when he last wrote you?" asked Evaña.
"The sloop-of-warPetrel," replied Marcelino.
"I thought I was correct," said Evaña; then drawing an English newspaper from his pocket he added:
"I have just received this, read."
Marcelino took the paper and read the paragraph to which Evaña had pointed; as he read his eyes glazed over. He read an account of how H.B.M. sloop-of-warPetrel, with a detachment of troops on board for the army then assembling at Lisbon, and with several officers, who were on their way to rejoin their regiments, had been totally lost on the coast of Galicia, two boats' crews only escaping. To this was appended a list of the names of the survivors. Eagerly Marcelino scanned that list, but the name of his friend Gordon was not among them. A strange calmness came over him; half an hour before he had felt wild and reckless under the pressure of a sorrow of his own, now he thought only of the sorrow this news would give to another, and that other, his own dearly-loved sister.
"Do not let any one see this paper, do not mention it to any one, it may not be true after all, he may have escaped."
Evaña tore the paragraph, from the paper, and twisting it up, burned it in the flame of a taper.
In the ante-room Marcelino remained alone, moodily thinking of what he had heard and seen that evening; but Evaña returned to the sala, and seeking out Dolores was especially attentive to her, even once to her great surprise dancing with her. When he spoke to her his voice had a soft tenderness in it which she had never heard before. Don Gregorio Lopez and several others came and spoke with him, whispering to him that they had matter of much moment to impart to him, but he resisted all their attempts to draw him from her side. His thoughts were far from politics, far from all that had been hitherto the business of his life, he had given himself up to an intoxicating dream of love, he was a prey to the glamour of hope.
The affair of the 1st January had resulted in giving Don Manuel Belgrano so much else to think of, that he left the project of inviting the Princess Carlota to Buenos Aires, very much in abeyance during the early month of the year, until the arrival of Don Felipe Contucci aroused his dormant zeal. He introduced Don Felipe to many of the leading citizens, and to such of them as were in his confidence, he unfolded the purpose of his visit. Above all he considered that it was necessary to gain the concurrence of Don Cornelio Saavedra whose position at that time gave him an influence in Buenos Aires, second only to that of Marshal Liniers.
Many conferences had Belgrano and Saavedra together, in which the ideas of the latter underwent a gradual change, till Don Manuel became sanguine of ultimate success.
One evening in June Don Manuel Belgrano sat alone in his study, anxiously awaiting a visit from Don Cornelio, and prepared to concert with him some decisive step. His servant threw open the door, announcing:
"El Señor Don Juan Martin Puyrredon."
It was not he whom he expected, and his disappointment showed itself in his face.
"You are waiting for some one?" said Don Juan Martin.
"Yes, Don Cornelio Saavedra promised to visit me this evening," replied Belgrano. "I think I have at length persuaded him that the best solution of our differences will be to invite the Princess Carlota to take the supreme government of the Viceroyalty into her hands."
"There is no longer any question of the Princess," said Puyrredon. "At eleven o'clock this evening all the military commandants of the city, both Spaniards and native, will meet at my house. It appears that this Cisneros will not much longer put off his arrival, Liniers will do nothing to hinder him. But he shall not come here, we have had enough of these Viceroys from Spain. To-night we meet to concert measures for a totally new order of affairs."
Belgrano started to his feet, his face glowing with animation. If the leaders of the troops were only united, there was no longer any impediment to the immediate assertion of independence.
"You invite me to join you?" he asked.
"I do. Your military rank entitles you to a place among us, and it is not sufficient that we have the soldiery with us, we also wish theconcurrence of the people, in this you may give us most powerful aid. Marcelino Ponce de Leon has also promised to be with us."
"And Don Carlos Evaña, will he be there?"
"No, I have not asked him. There are many Spaniards with us, and Don Carlos will never agree cordially with any plan in which Spaniards are included."
Then the enthusiasm of Don Manuel cooled down considerably, yet he promised Don Juan Martin that he would be at his house at the hour he had named.
Puyrredon departed, and Belgrano was again alone, and so he remained, until it wanted little more than an hour of midnight, pondering deeply within himself. Native chiefs and Spanish soldiers, Evaña, who was as the soul of the fiery youth of Buenos Aires, shut out from the conference; from this what could result? Nevertheless, Belgrano had faith in the future of his own country, and having faith he hoped, and hoping he put on his hat and cloak and sallied forth through darkness to the house of Don Juan Martin Puyrredon, who, as commandant of the cavalry on the 12th August, 1806, had won for himself a place in the first rank of the military leaders of Buenos Aires.
All the commandants of the city militia, many commandants of the cavalry of the campaña, several of the chiefs of the Spanish troops, which had been disbanded in January and several of the leading citizens were there assembled; as also some whose only claim to be there was the distinction they had won during the two invasions of the English. Among those men were Don Marcelino Ponce de Leon and his former lieutenant, Don Ciriaco Asneiros.
The presence of such Spaniards as Don Ciriaco introduced at once an element of discord into the conference. These men were ready to support any project, however extravagant, that might be proposed, but to the welfare of the country they gave not a moment's consideration; they thought only of their own advancement, and welcomed the idea of a civil war, in which they might sell their services to the highest bidder.
The conference had lasted two hours, and it seemed impossible for them to come to any understanding together, when Don Ciriaco stepped forward, and placing himself in front of Don Juan Martin Puyrredon said:
"Promise me the post of Inspector-general of arms and I will guarantee to raise 2000 men in a week; I will cross over into the Banda Oriental, seize Monte Video, and will shoot Cisneros and Elio for you in the Plaza, then you can make whatever government you like."
Don Juan Martin started back as though he had been struck, and consternation was visible upon the faces of most of the native Argentines, but several of the Spaniards laughed.
"Traitor!" exclaimed Marcelino, seizing Don Ciriaco by the collar and drawing him back, "think you that we are assassins?"
The Spanish major laid his hand on his sword, but Don Manuel Belgrano stepped in between them.
"See you not, Marcelino," said he, "that this is a joke? This good gentleman wishes to show us that all the plans that have been proposed are alike impossible of fulfilment."
"A joke!" said Asneiros, turning sullenly away.
After this there was no more discussion, the conference broke up, and by two or singly the members separated to their own homes.
Marcelino and Don Manuel Belgrano walked away together.
"If Evaña had been present we might have arrived at some resolution," said Marcelino; "but with these men of the sword it is useless to discuss anything."
"With Evaña it would have been impossible to come to any arrangement with the Spanish officers, and without their concurrence any plan we might devise would most certainly entail a civil war," replied Belgrano.
"We might have striven to conciliate them, but to admit them to our conference was folly," said Marcelino. "What ideas have they but such as Don Ciriaco was bold enough to proclaim?"
"That was absurd; that was nothing but a joke," said Belgrano.
"A joke!" said Marcelino; "I fear me much some of us may find the whole affair something more than a joke."
When Don Ciriaco Asneiros left the conference he walked quietly away to his own quarters, but before sunrise, in the dress of a private soldier, he stood at the bedside of General Nieto.
The following afternoon Don Juan Martin Puyrredon was arrested in his own house and taken to the barracks of the Patricios, where he was placed in solitary confinement, and no one was allowed to visit him.
The news of his arrest spread consternation through the city, and brought sorrow and fear into many a household; to none more than into the household of the Señor Saenz-Valiente, whose wife, Doña Juana, was the sister of Don Juan Martin. That night and the next morning Marshal Liniers was besieged on all sides by applications for him to interfere and procure the release of the prisoner, but to all alike he turned a deaf ear. Even to Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, who represented to him that he was likely to bring odium upon the rule of the new Viceroy, and so endanger the very existence of Spanish authority, he had but one answer, that the affair was none of his, and that doubtless General Nieto had sufficient reasons for what he had done, and would in due time declare them.
It was about two hours past noon when Don Roderigo left the Viceroy. Instead of going himself to tell Doña Juana of the non-success of his mission, he sought out his son, and commissioned him to tell her of it.
Marcelino found Doña Juana and her sister, with Doña Josefina and Doña Constancia, who had spent all the morning with them, sympathising and encouraging their hopes, though every hour brought intelligence of some fresh failure. When Marcelino announced his message, their last ray of hope vanished, for if Don Roderigo could not prevail upon Marshal Liniers to interfere, they well knew that all other intercession was useless.
Elisa Puyrredon burst into tears, and Doña Constancia, bending over her, endeavoured in vain to soothe her, tears trickling down from her own eyes also, in sympathy. Doña Josefina clasped her hands tightly together, and composed herself into a most fascinatingattitude of despair, but Doña Juana listened as Marcelino spoke, in tearless silence. As he paused she rose from her seat, tossing back her head, and drawing up her stately figure to its full height.
"Now that the men can do nothing," said she, "it remains for us to do what we can, and in our way. Will you accompany me, Marcelino?"
"With pleasure, Señora; it will be an honour for me to attend you wherever you may choose to lead me."
Five minutes afterwards Doña Juana and Marcelino left the house together. Three squares they walked in silence towards the Plaza Mayor, then Marcelino made as though he would turn a corner, saying:
"This way, Señora, is the shortest."
"No," replied the lady, "let us keep straight on."
"Are you not going to the fort?" said Marcelino.
"No, to the barracks of the Patricios."
The courtyard of the barracks was crowded with soldiers. In addition to the detachment ordinarily on guard, nearly all the officers of the regiment, and many officers from other native regiments had met there that afternoon to talk over the affair of the arrest, which was the engrossing topic throughout the city. They were soldiers, and were accustomed to obey orders without question. They had lodged their prisoner in a strong room, posting sentries and guarding him securely, nevertheless they liked not that their barracks should be turned into a prison, and that they should be appointed gaolers over one of the most distinguished of their fellow-citizens.
As they talked together, there stood in their midst a stately lady, who looked round upon them with an air of great disdain. They doffed their hats to her, and looked upon her with sympathising eyes, for many of them recognised her as the sister of the prisoner they held in durance. But she still looked haughtily upon them and returned not their salutation, merely waving her hand to them to keep silence.
"Fellow-citizens!" she said, "I have come among you to know if that be true which men have told me of you. Men tell me that you are no longer the gallant soldiers who in the day of danger stood foremost of all to confront the onset of a mighty foe, shedding your blood and offering up your lives willingly in the defence of your homes and fatherland. Men tell me that you are no longer the heroes on whom your country can look with pride, to whom she may look with confidence for the securing of her rights and liberties. Men tell me that you are now no more than the trained minions of a despot, and are the gaolers of such of your fellow-citizens as dare to entertain the thought of the complete liberation of their country. Can this be true?
"I look around me and I see in your faces the answer. You are the same gallant soldiers that you were two years ago, you are not the men to whom a despot can entrust the execution of his tyrannical designs! You are Argentines, and are as ready as ever you were to shed your blood in defence of the country which is equally dear to us all. You are citizens as well as soldiers, and the rights and liberties of your country are as dear to you as they are to any.
"How is it, then, that you allow your barracks to be turned into a prison? How is it that you, who are gallant soldiers, constitute yourselves the gaolers of the most noble amongst you all?
"He is your friend and your fellow-countryman, he whom you keep shut up within four walls, with barred windows shutting out from him the light of heaven, with a locked door and armed sentries shutting him out from all communication with those who love him. He is your friend and fellow-countryman, I say, whom here you keep locked up, over whom you keep watch and ward as though he were a dangerous enemy; he who in the day of danger was as forward as the bravest amongst you!