"Oh!" Louis exclaimed, warmly, "it is impossible! your friends, your wives, and your children."
"Our wives and children will be taken care of by our relations until our return."
"My friends, my good friends," said Valentine, with emotion, "you are wrong; we cannot impose such a sacrifice upon you, we will not consent to it for your sake; I have already told you, we are ignorant of what awaits us, or what we shall do; allow us to go alone."
"We will follow our pale brothers," Trangoil-Lanec said in a tone that admitted of no reply; "my brothers are not acquainted with the llanos; four men are a force in the desert—two men are dead."
The Frenchmen contested the matter no longer, they accepted the offer of the Ulmens, and did so the more readily, because they plainly perceived what an immense advantage these men would be to them. They were accustomed to a life in the woods, they knew all its mysteries, and had fathomed all its depths. The chiefs took leave of their guests, to prepare for their departure, which was irrevocably fixed for the next day. At sunrise, a small party, composed of Louis, Valentine, Trangoil-Lanec, and Curumilla, all four mounted upon excellent horses of that mixed Andalusian and Arabian breed, which the Spaniards imported into America, and Cæsar, who trotted at their side in close file, left the toldería, escorted by all the members of the tribe shouting: "Come back again! come back again!—A good journey! a good journey!"
After repeated farewells to these worthy people, the four travellers directed their course towards the toldería of the Black-Serpents, and soon disappeared in the numberless defiles formed by the quebradas.
In the state of anarchy in which Chili was plunged at the period of our history, the parties were numerous, and everyone was manoeuvring in the shade, as skilfully as possible, in order to gain possession of power. General Bustamente, as we have stated, aimed at nothing less than the protectorate of a confederation similar to that of the United States, which, then but little understood, dazzled his ambition. He could not divine that those ancient outlaws, those sectarian fanatics exiled from Europe, those thriving merchants, had already begun to dream in America of a universal monarchy, a senseless Utopia, the application of which will one day cost them the loss of that so-called nationality of which they are so proud, and which, in reality, does not exist. Probably General Bustamente did not look so far into the future, or, if he did divine the tendencies of the Anglo-Americans, perhaps he dreamt of himself following also that ambitious aim, as soon as his power should repose upon solid bases.
The Dark-Hearts, the only true patriots in this unhappy country, on their side, wished that the government should adopt measures of a rather democratic nature, but they had no intention to overturn it, for they were persuaded that a revolution could only be prejudicial to the general welfare of the nation. Beside General Bustamente and the society of the Dark-Hearts, a third party, more powerful, perhaps, than the two first, was at work silently, but active. This party was represented by Antinahuel, the toqui of the most important Uthal-Mapus of the Araucanian confederacy. We have said that from its geographical position, this little insignificant republic is placed like a wedge in the Chilian territory, which it separates sharply in two. This position gave Antinahuel immense power. All Araucanos are soldiers; at a signal from their chiefs, they take up arms, and are able, in a few days, to get together an army of experienced warriors. The republicans and the partizans of Bustamente were fully aware how much it was to their interest to attach the Araucanos to their party; with the aid of these ferocious soldiers victory would be certain. Already had the King of Darkness and Bustamente made proposals to Antinahuel,—of course, unknown to each other. These overtures the redoubtable toqui had appeared to listen to, and had feigned to reply to both, for the following reasons:—
Antinahuel, in addition to the hereditary hatred which his ancestors had bequeathed to him against the white race, or perhaps on account of that hatred, had dreamt, since he had been elected supreme chief of an Uthal-Mapus, not only of the complete independence of his country, but moreover of re-conquering all the territory which the Spaniards had deprived it of; he hoped to drive them back to the other side of the Cordilleras of the Andes, and restore to his nation the splendour it had enjoyed before the arrival of the whites in Chili. And this patriotic project Antinahuel was just the man to carry through. Endowed with vast intelligence, at once daring and subtle, he allowed himself to be stopped by no obstacle, conquered by no reverse. Almost entirely brought up in Chili, he spoke Spanish perfectly, was thoroughly acquainted with the manners of his enemies, and by means of numberless spies spread everywhere, he was well informed with regard to the Chilian policy, and of the precarious situation of those whom he wished to conquer; he habitually took advantage of the dissensions which separated them, and feigned to lend an ear to the propositions made to him on all parts, in order, when the moment should arrive, to crush his enemies one after the other, and be left alone standing.
He wanted a plausible pretext for keeping his Uthal-Mapus under arms, without inspiring the Chilians with mistrust: and this pretext General Bustamente and the Dark-Hearts supplied him with by their preparations. No one could be surprised, for this reason, at seeing, in a time of peace, the toqui gather together a numerous army on the Chilian frontiers, since,in petto, either party flattered itself that this army was destined to aid its cause. The conduct of the toqui was, therefore, most skilful; for he not only inspired mistrust in no one, but, on the contrary, gave hopes to all. The position was becoming serious; the hour for action could not long be delayed; and Antinahuel, whose measures were all prepared, awaited impatiently the moment for beginning the struggle.
Things were at this point on the day when Doña Maria came to the toldería of the Black-Serpents, to visit the friend of her childhood. As soon as she awoke, the Linda gave orders for her departure.
"Is my sister going to leave me already?" said Antinahuel, in a tone of mild reproach.
"Yes," Doña Maria replied, "my brother knows that I must reach Valdivia as quickly as possible."
The chief did not press her stay; a furtive smile played round his lips. After Doña Maria was on horseback, she turned towards the toqui.
"Did not my brother say he should be soon in Valdivia?" she asked, in a perfectly well-played tone of indifference.
"I shall be there as soon as my sister," he replied.
"We shall see each other again, then?"
"Perhaps we may."
"We must!"
This was said in a positive tone.
"Very well," the chief replied, after a moment's pause; "my sister may depart—she shall see me again."
"Till then, farewell, then," she said, and rode away at a quick pace.
She soon disappeared in a cloud of dust, and the chief returned thoughtfully to his toldo.
"Woman," he said, to his mother, "I am going to the great toldería of the palefaces."
"I heard everything last night," the Indian woman replied, sorrowfully; "my son is wrong."
"Wrong! how, or why?" he asked, passionately.
"My son is a great chief; my sister deceives him, and makes him subservient to her vengeance."
"Or rather my own," he replied, in a singular tone.
"The young white girl has a right to the protection of my son."
"I will protect the Pearl of the Andes."
"My son forgets that she of whom he speaks saved his life."
"Silence, woman!" he shouted, in a passionate tone.
The Indian woman held her peace, but sighed deeply.
The chief summoned his mosotones, and selecting from among them a score of warriors upon whom he could place entire reliance, ordered them to be ready to follow him within an hour. He then threw himself upon a bench, and sank into serious and agitating reflections. Suddenly a great noise was heard from without, and the chief sprang from his recumbent position, and went to the door of his toldo. He was surprised to see two strangers, mounted upon excellent horses, and preceded by an Indian, advancing towards him. These strangers were Valentine and Louis, who had left their friends a short distance from the toldería.
Valentine, on leaving the village of the Puelches, had opened the letter addressed to himself, and placed in his hands by the major-domo, with a recommendation not to open it till the last minute. The young man was far from expecting the contents of this strange missive. After carefully reading it, he communicated it to his friend, saying—
"Here, read this, Louis;—hem! who knows but that this singular letter is the first step to our fortune?"
Like all men in love, Louis was sceptical upon every subject that did not bear some relation to his passion, and he returned the paper, shaking his head.
"Politics burn the fingers," he said.
"Yes, of those who don't know how to handle them," Valentine replied, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Now, it is my opinion that in this country, in which it has pleased fate to drop us, the most promising element of fortune we have at command happens to be those very politics which you so much disdain."
"I must confess, my friend, that I care very little for these Dark-Hearts, of whom I know nothing, and who have done us the honour to affiliate us."
"I do not share your opinion at all; I believe them to be resolute, intelligent men, and am persuaded they will, some day, gain the upper hand."
"Much good may it do them! But of what consequence is that to us Frenchmen?"
"More than you may think for; and I am determined, immediately after my interview with this said Antinahuel, to go directly to Valdivia, in order to be present at the meeting they appoint."
"As you please," said the Count, carelessly. "As such is your advice, we will go thither; only I warn you that we shall risk our heads. If we lose them, it will be all very well; but I wash my hands of the matter beforehand."
"I will be prudent, caramba! My head is the only thing I can call my own," Valentine replied, laughing, "and be assured I will not risk it for nothing. Besides, do you not partake of my curiosity to see how these people understand politics, and in what a fashion they set about conspiring?"
"Well, that may become interesting; we travel partly for instruction; let us gain it, then, when it offers itself."
"Bravo! that's the way in which I like to hear a man speak. Let us go and seek the redoubtable chief to whom we have a letter to deliver."
Trangoil-Lanec and Curumilla were too prudent to venture to let Antinahuel know of the friendship which bound them to the two Frenchmen. Without suspecting the reasons which induced their friends to present themselves to the toqui, they foresaw that a day might come when it would be advantageous that their relations should be unknown. When they arrived, therefore, at a short distance from the toldería, the Indian warriors remained concealed in a secluded corner, keeping Cæsar with them, and allowing the two Frenchmen to continue their route to the village of the Black-Serpents, with whom, in addition, they had not lately been upon the best terms.
The reception given to the Frenchmen was most friendly; for in time of peace the Araucanos are exceedingly hospitable. As soon as they perceived the strangers, they crowded round them; and as all the Indians speak Spanish with astonishing facility, Valentine had no difficulty in making himself understood. One warrior, more polite than the rest, took upon himself to be their guide through the village, in which, of course, they were at a loss. He led them to the toldo of the chief, in front of which were drawn up twenty horsemen, armed, and apparently waiting.
"That is Antinahuel, the great toqui of the Inapire-Mapu," said the guide, emphatically, pointing with his finger at the chief, who at that moment came out of his toldo, attracted by the noise.
"Thank you," said Valentine; and the two Frenchmen advanced rapidly towards the toqui, who, on his part, made a few steps to meet them.
"Eh, eh!" Valentine said, in a subdued voice, to his companion; "here is a man with a good bearing, and with a rather intelligent air for an Indian."
"Yes," Louis replied, in the same tone, "but he has a contracted brow, a sinister look, and compressed lips—he inspires me with very little confidence."
"Bah!" said Valentine, "you are too difficult by half; did you expect to find an Indian an Antinous or an Apollo Belvedere?"
"No; but I should like a little more open frankness in his look."
"Well, well, we shall see."
"I do not know why, but that man produces the effect of a reptile upon me; he inspires me with invincible repulsion."
"Oh, nonsense! you are too impressionable. I am sure that the man, who, I cannot deny, has the air of a thorough rascal, is, at bottom, one of the best fellows in the world."
"God grant I may be deceived! But I experience, on seeing him, a feeling for which I cannot account; it seems as if a kind of presentiment warned me to be on my guard against that man, and that he will be fatal to me."
"All folly! What relations can you ever have with this individual? We are charged with a mission to him; who knows whether we may ever see him again? and then what interests can connect us with him hereafter?"
"You are right; and I do not know what makes me think as I have said; besides, we shall soon know what we have to trust to on his account—here he is."
The adventurers were, in fact, at that moment in front of the chief's toldo. Antinahuel stood before them; and, although appearing to be giving orders to his men, examined them very attentively. He stepped towards them quickly, and, bowing with perfect politeness, said, in a pleasant tone, and with a graceful gesture—
"Strangers, you are welcome to my toldo. Your presence rejoices my heart. Condescend to pass over the threshold of this poor hut, which will be yours as long as you deign to remain among us."
"Thanks for the kind words of welcome you address to us, powerful chief," Valentine replied. "The persons who sent us to you assured us of the kind reception we might expect."
"If the strangers come on the part of my friends, that is a further reason why I should endeavour to make their abode here as agreeable as my humble means will allow me."
The two Frenchmen bowed ceremoniously, and alighted from their horses. At a sign from the toqui, two peons led the horses away to a vast corral behind the toldo.
We have repeatedly said that in times of peace the Araucanos are exceedingly hospitable. This hospitality, which on the part of the warriors is cordial and simple, on that of the chiefs becomes extravagant. Antinahuel was far from being a rude Indian, attached though he was to the customs of his fathers; and although in his heart he hated not only the Spaniards, but indiscriminately all belonging to the white race, the half-civilized education he had received had given him ideas of comfort completely above Indian habits. Many of the richest Chilian farmers would have found it impossible to display greater luxury than he exhibited when his caprice or his interest led him to do so. On the present occasion, he was not sorry to show strangers that the Araucanos were not so barbarous as their arrogant neighbours wished it to be supposed, and that they could, when necessary, rival even them. At the first glance, Antinahuel had discovered that his guests were not Spaniards; but, with the circumspection which forms the foundation of the Indian character, he confined his observations to his own breast. It was with the kindest air and in the most winning tone of voice that he pressed them to enter his toldo.
The Frenchmen followed him in, and with a gesture he requested them to be seated. Peons placed a profusion of cigars and cigarettes upon the table, near a tasty filigree brasero. In a few minutes other peons entered with the maté, which they respectfully presented to the chief and his guests. Then, without the silence being broken—for the Araucanian laws of hospitality require that no question should be addressed to strangers until they think proper to speak themselves—each sipped the herb of Paraguay, while smoking. This preliminary operation being gone through, Valentine rose.
"I thank you, chief, in the name of myself and my friend, for your cordial hospitality."
"Hospitality is a duty which every Araucano is jealous to fulfil!"
"But," replied Valentine, "as I have been given to understand that the chief is about to set out on a journey, I do not wish to detain him."
"I am at the orders of my guests; my journey is not so pressing as not to admit of being put off for a few hours."
"I thank the chief for his courtesy, but I hope he will soon be at liberty."
Antinahuel bowed.
"A Spaniard has charged me with a letter for the chief."
"Ah!" the toqui exclaimed, with a singular intonation, and fixing a piercing look upon the face of the young man.
"Yes," the Frenchman continued; "and that letter I am about to have the honour of handing to you."
And he put his hand to his breast, to take out the letter.
"Stop!" said the chief, laying his hand upon his arm, as he turned towards his servants; adding, "leave the room." The three men were left alone.
"Now you may give me the letter," he continued.
The chief took it, looked carefully at the superscription, turned the paper in all directions in his hand, and then, with some hesitation, presented it to the young man.
"Let my brother read it," he said; "the whites are more learned than we poor Indians: they know everything."
Valentine gave his countenance the most silly expression possible.
"I cannot read this," he said, with well-assumed embarrassment.
"Does my brother then refuse to render me this service?" the chief pressed him.
"I do not refuse you, chief; only I am prevented doing what you request by a very simple reason."
"And what is that reason?"
"It is that my companion and I are both Frenchmen."
"Well, and what then?"
"We speak a little Spanish, but we cannot read it."
"Ah!" said the chief, in a tone of doubt; but, after walking about, and reflecting a minute, he added,—"Hem! that is possible."
He then turned towards the two Frenchmen, who, on their part, were, in appearance, impassive and indifferent.
"Let my brothers wait an instant," he said; "I know a man in my tribe who understands the marks which the whites make upon paper: I will go and order him to translate this letter."
The young men bowed, and the chief left the apartment.
"Why the devil did you refuse to read the letter?" Louis asked.
"In good truth," Valentine replied, "I can scarcely tell you why; but what you said of the expression of this man's countenance, produced a certain effect upon me. He inspires me with no confidence, and I am not anxious to be the depository of secrets which he may some day reclaim in a disagreeable manner."
"Yes, you are right! We may, some day, congratulate ourselves upon this circumspection. Hush! I hear footsteps."
And the chief re-entered the room.
"I know the contents of the letter," he said; "if my brothers see the man who charged them with it, they will inform him that I am setting out this very day for Valdivia."
"We would, with pleasure, take charge of that message," replied Valentine; "but we do not know the person who gave us the letter, and it is more than probable we may never see him again."
The chief darted at them a stolen and deeply suspicious glance.
"Good! Will my brothers remain here, then?"
"It would give us infinite pleasure to pass a few hours in the agreeable society of the chief, but with us time presses; with his permission, we will take our leave."
"My brothers are perfectly free; my toldo is open for those who leave it, as well as for those who enter it."
The young men rose to depart.
"In what direction are my brothers going?"
"We are bound for Concepción."
"Let my brothers go in peace, then! If their course lay towards Valdivia, I would have offered to journey with them."
"A thousand thanks, chief, for your kind offer; unfortunately we cannot profit by it, for our road lies in a completely opposite direction."
The three men exchanged a few more words of courtesy, and left the toldo. The Frenchmen's horses had been brought round; they mounted, and after having saluted the chief once more, they set off. As soon as they were out of the village, Louis, turning to Valentine, said,—
"We have not an instant to lose. If we wish to reach Valdivia before that man, we must make all speed. Who knows whether Don Tadeo may not be awaiting our arrival impatiently?"
They soon rejoined their friends, who looked for them anxiously, and all four set off at full speed in the direction of Valdivia, without being able to explain to themselves why they used such diligence. Antinahuel accompanied his guests a few paces out of his toldo. When he had taken leave of them, he followed them with his eyes as far as he could see them, and when they disappeared at the extremity of the village, he returned thoughtfully and slowly to his toldo, saying to himself,—
"It is evident to me that these men are deceiving me; their refusal to read the letter was nothing but a pretext. What can be their object? Can they be enemies? I will watch them!"
When he arrived in front of his toldo, he found his mosotones mounted, and awaiting his orders.
"I must set out at once," he said; "I shall learn all yonder, and, perhaps," he added, in a voice so low that he could hardly hear it himself, "perhaps I shall findheragain. If Doña Maria breaks her promise, and does not give her up to me, woe, woe be to her!"
He raised his head, and saw his mother standing before him. "What do you want, woman?" he asked, harshly; "this is not your place!"
"My place is near you when you are suffering, my son," she mildly replied.
"I suffering! You are mad, mother! age has turned your brain! Go back into the toldo, and, during my absence, keep a good watch over all that belongs to me."
"Are you, then, really going, my son?"
"This moment," he said, and sprang into his saddle.
"Where are you going?" she asked, and seized his horse's bridle.
"What is that to you?" he replied, with an ugly glance.
"Beware! my son; you are entering on a bad course. Guérubu, the spirit of evil, is master of your heart."
"I am the best and sole judge of my actions."
"You shall not go!" she exclaimed, as she placed herself resolutely in front of his horse.
The Indians collected round the speakers looked on with mute terror at this scene; they were too well acquainted with the violent and imperious character of Antinahuel not to dread something fatal, if his mother persisted in endeavouring to prevent his departure.
The brows of the chief lowered—his eyes gleamed like lightning—and it was not without a great effort that he mastered the passion boiling in his breast.
"I will go!" he said, in a loud voice, and trembling with rage; "I will go, if I trample you beneath my horse's hoofs!"
The woman clung convulsively to the saddle, and looked her son in the face.
"Do so," she cried; "for, by the soul of your father, who now hunts in the blessed prairies with Pillian, I swear I will not stir, even if you pass over my body!"
The face of the Indian became horribly contracted; he cast around a glance which made the hearts of the bravest tremble with fear.
"Woman! woman!" he shouted, grinding his teeth with rage; "get out of my way, or I shall crush you like a reed!"
"I will not stir, I tell you!" she repeated, with wild energy.
"Take care! take care!" he said again; "I shall forget you are my mother!"
"I will not stir!"
A nervous tremor shook the limbs of the chief, who had now attained the highest paroxysm of fury.
"If you will have it so," he cried, in a husky, but loud voice, "your blood be upon your own head!"
And he dug the spurs into the sides of his horse, which plunged with pain, and then sprung forward like an arrow, dragging along the poor woman, whose body was soon but one huge wound. A cry of horror burst from the quivering lips of the terrified Indians. After a few minutes of this senseless course, during which she had left fragments of her flesh on every sharp point of the road, the strength of the Indian woman abandoned her; she left her hold of the bridle, and sank dying.
"Oh!" she said, in a faint voice, and following, with a look dimmed by agony, her son, as he was borne away like a whirlwind, "my unhappy son! my unhappy——"
She raised her eyes towards heaven, clasped her mangled hands, as if to offer up a last prayer, and fell back.
She died pitying the matricide, and pardoning him. The women of the tribe took up the body respectfully, and carried it, weeping, into the toldo. At the sight of the corpse, an old Indian shook his head several times, murmuring in a prophetic tone,—
"Antinahuel has killed his mother! Pillian will avenge her!"
And all bowed down their heads sorrowfully: this atrocious crime made them dread horrible misfortunes in the future.
Don Tadeo and his friend Don Gregorio were introduced, after exchanging several passwords, into a subterraneous apartment, the entrance to which was perfectly concealed in the wall. The door closed immediately after them; the two men turned round sharply, but all signs of an opening had disappeared. Without taking further notice of this circumstance, which they no doubt had expected, they cast an inquiring glance around them, in order to obtain some knowledge of the locality. The place was admirably chosen for a meeting of conspirators. It was an immense apartment, which must have served for a long time as a cellar, as was made evident by the essentially alcoholic emanations still floating in the air; the walls were low and thick, and of a dirty red colour; a lamp with three jets, hanging from the roof, far from dispersing the darkness, seemed only to render it in a manner visible. In a recess stood a table, behind which a man in a mask was seated, near to two empty seats. Men enveloped in cloaks, and all wearing black velvet masks, were gliding about in the darkness, silent as phantoms.
Don Tadeo and his friend exchanged a glance, and without speaking a word, proceeded to take their places in the empty seats. As soon as they were seated, a change came over the meeting: the low whispering which had been heard till that moment ceased all at once, as if by enchantment. All the conspirators gathered in a single group in front of the table, and with arms crossed upon their chests, waited earnestly. The man who before the arrival of Don Tadeo had appeared to preside over the meeting arose, and casting round a confident glance on the attentive crowd, said—
"On this day the seventy-twoventasof the Dark-Hearts, spread over the territories of the republic, are assembled in council. In all of them the taking up of arms, of which we, theventaof Valdivia, will instantly give the signal, will be decreed. Everywhere men faithful to the good cause, true lovers of liberty, are preparing to commence the struggle with Bustamente. Will you all, comrades, who are here present, when the hour strikes, descend frankly and boldly into the arena? Will you sacrifice, without reserve, your family, your fortune, and even your life, if necessary, for the public good?"
He ceased, and a funereal silence prevailed in the assembly.
"Answer!" he resumed; "what will you do?"
"We will die!" the band of conspirators murmured, like a sinister and terrible echo.
"That is well, my brothers," Don Tadeo said, rising suddenly. "I expected no less from you, and I thank you. I have long known you all, and felt that I could depend upon you—I, whom none of you know. These masks which conceal you one from another, are but transparent gauze for the chief of the Dark-Hearts—and I am the King of Darkness! I have sworn that you shall live as free men, or that I will die! Before twenty-four hours have passed away, you will hear the signal you have so long waited for, and then will commence that terrible struggle which can only end in the death of the tyrant; all the provinces, all the cities, all the towns will riseen masseat the same instant; courage, then! You have only a few hours longer to suffer. The war of ambushes, surprises, of subterranean treacheries is ended; war, frank, loyal, open, in the face of the sun, is about to begin; let us show ourselves what we always have been, firm in our faith, and ready to die for our opinions! Let the chiefs of sections draw near."
Ten men left the ranks, and placed themselves silently ten paces from the table.
"Let the corporal of chiefs of sections answer for all," said Don Tadeo.
"I am the corporal," said one of the masked men; "the orders expedited from the Quinta Verde have been executed; all the sections are warned; they are all ready to rise at the first signal; each will take possession of the posts that are assigned it."
"So far well! How many men have you at your disposal?"
"Seven thousand three hundred and seventy-seven."
"Can you depend upon them all?"
"No."
"How many are there lukewarm or irresolute?"
"Four thousand."
"How many firm and convinced?"
"Nearly three thousand; but for these I will be answerable."
"That is well! we have even more than we want; the brave will attract others. Return to your places."
The chiefs of sections drew back,
"Now," Don Tadeo continued, "before we separate, I have to call down your justice upon one of our brothers, who, having entered deeply into our secrets, has been false to the society several times for a little gold; I have the proofs in my hands. The circumstances are of the utmost importance; one word—a single word—may ruin our cause and us! Say, what chastisement does this man deserve?"
"Death!" the conspirators responded, coolly, but simultaneously.
"I know this man," Don Tadeo continued; "let him come forth from the ranks, and not oblige me to tear off his mask, and hurl his name in his face."
No one stirred.
"This man is here—I can see him; for the last time, let him step forth, and not crown his baseness by seeking to avoid the punishment he merits."
The conspirators cast suspicious glances at each other; the assembly seemed moved by an extreme anxiety; the man, however, upon whom the King of Darkness called, persisted in remaining confounded amongst his companions.
Don Tadeo waited for an instant, but finding that the man whom he summoned imagined he should remain unknown, and not be discovered beneath his mask, he made a signal, and Don Gregorio rose and advanced towards the group of conspirators, which opened at his approach, and laid his hand roughly on the shoulder of a man who had instinctively retreated before him, until the wall forced him to stop.
"Come with me, Don Pedro," he said, and he dragged rather than led him to the table, behind which stood Don Tadeo, calm and implacable.
The guilty spy was seized with a convulsive trembling, his teeth chattered, and he fell upon his knees, crying with terror:
"Mercy, my lord, mercy!"
Don Gregorio tore off his mask, and revealed the face of the spy, whose features, horribly contracted by fear, and of an ashy paleness, were really hideous.
"Don Pedro," Don Tadeo said, in a stern voice, "you have several times sought to sell your brothers of the society; it was you who caused the death of the ten patriots shot upon the Place of Santiago; it was you who betrayed the secret of the Quinta Verde to the soldiers of Bustamente; this very day, even, scarcely two hours ago, you held a long conversation with General Bustamente, in which you agreed to deliver up to him tomorrow the principal chiefs of the Dark-Hearts: is that true?"
The miserable wretch had not a word to say in his defence; confounded, overwhelmed by the irresistible proofs accumulated against him, he hung down his head in utter abandonment.
"Is this true?" Don Tadeo reiterated.
"It is true," he murmured, in a scarcely audible voice.
"You acknowledge yourself guilty?"
"Yes," he said, with a heart-stifling sob; "but grant me life, noble seigneur, and I swear——"
"Silence!"
The spy was struck with mute despair.
"You have heard, companions and friends, how this man confesses his own crimes; for the last time, what punishment does he deserve for having sold his brothers?"
"Death!" replied the Dark-Hearts, without hesitation.
"In the name of the Dark-Hearts, of whom I am king, I condemn you, Don Pedro Saldillo, to death, for treachery and felony towards your brethren. You have five minutes to make your peace with Heaven," Don Tadeo said, sternly.
He placed his watch upon the table, and drawing a pistol from his belt, cocked it deliberately. The sharp noise of the hammer made the condemned man shudder with fear. A profound silence prevailed in the vault; the hearts of these implacable men might be heard beating in their breasts. The spy cast around wild, despairing glances, but beheld nothing but angry eyes gleaming upon him through hideous masks. Over the vault, in the chingana, they continued dancing, and faint puffs ofsambacuejaspenetrated, at intervals, mixed with uproarious bursts of laughter, even to the awful scene beneath. The contrast of this riotous mirth with the terrible act of justice which was being carried out, had something appalling in it.
"The five minutes are past," said Don Tadeo, in a firm voice.
"A few minutes more! a few minutes, my lord!" the spy implored, wringing his hands in despair. "I am not prepared; you cannot kill me thus! In the name of all you hold most dear, let me live!"
Without appearing to hear him, Don Tadeo lifted his pistol, and the miserable culprit rolled upon the ground, with his brains scattered around him.
"Oh!" he cried, as the pistol was aimed, "be accursed, ye assassins!" His death prevented the utterance of more.
The conspirators stood cold, impassive spectators of the scene. As soon as the stern act of justice was completed, at a signal from the chief, several men opened a trap in the floor which covered a hole half filled with quick lime; the body was thrown into it, and the trap closed again.
"Justice has been done, brothers," said Don Tadeo, solemnly; "go in peace, the King of Darkness watches over you."
The conspirators bowed respectfully, and disappeared one after the other, without uttering a word. At the end of a quarter of an hour no one remained in the vault but Don Tadeo and Don Gregorio.
"Oh!" said Don Tadeo, "Shall we always have thus to combat treachery?"
"Courage! my friend; you have yourself said, in a few hours war will commence in the face of day."
"God grant I may not be deceived! This contest in the dark makes frightful demands upon the mind; my heart begins to fail me!"
The two conspirators regained the chingana, in which the dancing, laughing, and drinking were going on with undiminished spirit; they passed through so as not to be observed, and came out into the street. They had hardly walked fifty steps when they were joined by a man, who, to their great surprise, proved to be Valentine Guillois.
"God be praised for bringing you here so opportunely!" said Don Tadeo.
"I hope I am punctual," the Parisian remarked, with a gay laugh.
Don Tadeo pressed his hand warmly, and drew him towards his residence, where our three personages soon arrived.
General Bustamente had come to Valdivia under the pretence of himself renewing the treaties which existed between the republic of Chili and the Araucanian Confederation. This pretext was excellent in the sense that it permitted him to concentrate a considerable force in the provinces, and gave him, besides, a plausible reason for receiving the most powerful Ulmens of the Indians, who would not fail to come to the meeting, accompanied by a great number of mosotones. Every time a new president is elected in Chili, the minister at war renews the treaties in his name. General Bustamente had, up to this moment, neglected to do so: he had good reasons for that.—
This ceremony, in which a great retinue is purposely displayed, generally takes place in a vast plain situated upon the Araucanian territories, and not at a great distance from Valdivia. By a curious coincidence, the pretext of the General suited equally well the interests of the three factions which, at this period, divided this unhappy country. The Dark-Hearts had skilfully profited by it to prepare the resistance they meditated, and Antinahuel, feigning to wish to pay the greatest honours to the war minister of the President of the republic, had collected a real army of his best warriors in the environs of the place chosen for the solemnity.
Such was the state of things, and of the various parties with regard to each other, at the time we resume our narrative. The enemies were about to come face to face; it was evident that each, being well prepared, would endeavour to take advantage of the opportunity, and that a shock was imminent; but how would it be brought about? Who would set fire to the mine, and cause all those passions, those grudges, those ambitions, so long restrained, to explode? Nobody could say!
The plain on which the ceremony was to take place was vast, covered with high grass, and belted by mountains verdant with lofty trees. The plain, crossed by woods and lines of apple trees, loaded with fruit, was divided in two by a meandering river, which flowed gently along, balancing on its silver waters numerous troops of black-headed swans; here and there, through the breaks of the thickets, might be seen the pointed nose of a vicuna, which, with ear erect, and eye on the watch, seemed to sniff the breeze, and all at once bounded away into the distance.
The sun was rising majestically in the horizon when a measured noise of tinkling bells proceeded from a wood of apple trees, and a troop of half a score mules, led by the mother mare, and driven by an arriero, debouched into the plain. These mules carried diverse objects for an encampment, provisions, and even some bales of clothes and linen. At twenty paces behind the mules, came a rather numerous troop of horsemen. When they arrived at the banks of the little river we have spoken of, the arriero stopped his mules, and the party dismounted. In an instant the bales were unpacked and arranged with care, so as to form a perfect circle, in the centre of which a fire was lighted. Then a tent was erected in this temporary camp, and the horses and mules were hobbled.
This party, whom, no doubt, our readers have already recognized, were Don Tadeo, his friends the Frenchmen, the Indian Ulmens, with Doña Rosario, and three servants. By a strange coincidence, at the same time that they were arranging their camp, another party nearly as numerous established theirs on the opposite bank of the river, exactly in face of them. The leader of this was Doña Maria. As frequently happens, it had pleased chance to bring into propinquity irreconcilable enemies, who were only separated from each other by a distance of fifty yards at the most. But was this entirely owing to chance?
Don Tadeo had no suspicion of this dangerous proximity, or he would probably have done everything in his power to avoid it. He had cast a vacant glance at the caravan opposite to him, without taking any further heed of it, being absorbed in thoughts of the highest importance. Doña Maria, on the contrary, knew perfectly well, what she was about, and had placed herself where she was with the skill of an able tactician. In the mean time, as the morning advanced, the number of travellers kept increasing on the plain; by nine o'clock it was literally covered with tents; a free space only being reserved around an old half ruined chapel, in which mass was to be celebrated before the commencement of the ceremony.
The Puelches, who had descended from their mountains in great numbers, had passed the night in making joyous libations around their campfires; many of them were sleeping in a state of complete intoxication; nevertheless, as soon as the arrival of the minister of the Chilian republic was announced, they all sprang up tumultuously, and began to dance, and utter cries of joy. On one side arrived General Bustamente at a canter, surrounded by a brilliant staff, all glittering with gold lace, and followed by a numerous troop of lancers; whilst on the other side came, at a gallop, the four Araucano Toquis, followed by the principal Ulmens of their nation, and a great number of mosotones.
These two troops, which hastened to meet each other amidst thevivasand cries of joy of the crowd, raised immense clouds of dust, in which they disappeared. The Araucanos in particular, who are excellent jinetes, a term used in this country to designate good horsemen, indulged in equestrian eccentricities, of which the so-much vaunted Arab fantasias can give but a faint idea; for they are nothing in comparison with the incredible feats performed by these men, who seem born to manage a horse. The Chilians had a much more serious bearing, from which they would gladly have freed themselves, if human respect had not restrained them.
As soon as the two troops met, the chiefs dismounted and ranged themselves, the Ulmens, armed with their long, silver-headed canes, behind Antinahuel, and the three other Toquis and the Chilians behind General Bustamente. It was the first time the Tiger-Sun and the General had met. Each of these two men, therefore, equally good politicians, equally false and equally ambitious, and who, at the first glance, understood one another, contemplated his rival with intense earnestness.
After exchanging a few salutes, impressed with a rather suspicious cordiality, the two bands retrograded from each other a few paces, to afford room for the commissary-general and four Capitanes de Amigos. These officers are what they call in the United States Indian agents; they serve as interpreters and agents to the Araucanos, for trade, and all that concerns their transactions with the Chilians. It must be observed that all these Indians speak Spanish perfectly well; but they never will use it in appointed meetings. These Capitanes de Amigos, who, for the most part, are half-breeds, are much beloved and respected. They arrived, leading a score of mules loaded with presents, destined by the President of the Republic for the principal Ulmens. For, be it noted, when Indians treat with Christians, they consider nothing settled till they have received presents: it is for them a proof that the other party does not wish to deceive them; they constitute an earnest which they require to bind the bargain, and prove that they are treated in good faith. The Chilians, who, unfortunately for them, had long been accustomed to Araucanian habits, had taken good care not to forget this important condition.
Whilst the commissary-general was distributing the presents, General Bustamente repaired to the chapel, where a priest, who had come purposely from Valdivia, celebrated mass. After mass, the speeches commenced, as soon as the minister of the republic and the four Toquis of the Uthal-Mapus had embraced. These speeches, which were very long, resulted in mutual assurances that they were satisfied with the peace which reigned between the two peoples, and that they would do all in their power to maintain it as long as possible. We think it our duty to beg our readers to observe, in justice to the two speakers, that one was not more sincere than the other, and that they did not mean one word they said, since in their hearts they determined to break their promises as soon as possible. They appeared, however, very well satisfied with the comedy they were playing, and they terminated it by a final embrace, more close and warm than the first, but equally false.
"Now," said the General, "if my brothers, the great chiefs, will please to follow me, we will plant the cross."
"No," Antinahuel replied, with a honied smile, "the cross must not be planted in front of the stone toldo."
"Why not?" the General asked, with astonishment.
"Because," the Indian replied, in a tone of decision, "the words we have exchanged must remain buried on the spot where they have been pronounced."
"That is just!" said the General, bowing his head in sign of assent. "It shall be done as my brother desires."
Antinahuel smiled proudly.
"Have I spoken well, powerful men?" he asked, looking at the Ulmens.
"Our father, the Toqui of the Inapire-Mapu, has spoken well," the Ulmens replied.
The Indian peons then went to fetch from the chapel, upon the floor of which it lay, a cross of at least thirty feet in height, which they brought to the spot where the conferences had been held. All the chiefs and the Chilian officers ranged themselves around it; the troops forming a vast circle at a respectful distance. After the pause of an instant, of which the priest took advantage to bless the cross with that off-hand carelessness which distinguishes the Spanish clergy in America, it was planted in the ground. At the moment it was about to gain its upright position, Antinahuel interposed.
"Stop!" he said to the Indians armed with spades; and turning towards the General, "Peace is well assured between us, is it not?" he asked.
"Yes, certainly," the General replied.
"All our words are buried under this cross?"
"All of them."
"Cover them with earth then," he said to the peons, "that they may not escape, and that war may not be rekindled between us."
"When this ceremony was accomplished, Antinahuel caused a young lamb to be brought, which the machi slaughtered near the cross. All the Indian chiefs bathed their hands in the still warm blood of the quivering animal, and daubed the cross with hieroglyphic signs, destined to keep away Guécubu, the genius of evil, and prevent the words from escaping from the spot in which they were buried. In conclusion, the Araucans and the Chilians discharged their firearms in the air, and the ceremony was ended. General Bustamente then coming up to the Toqui of the Inapire-Mapu, passed his arm through the chiefs in a friendly manner, saying in an ingratiating tone—
"Will not my brother, Antinahuel, come for an instant in my tent, to taste a glass of aguardiente de Pisco and take maté?—he would render his friend happy."
"Why should I not?" the chief replied, smiling, and in the most good-humoured tone.
"My brother will accompany me!"
"Lead on, then."
Both moved off, chatting upon indifferent subjects, directing their course towards the General's tent, which had been pitched within gunshot of the place where the ceremony had taken place. The General had given his orders beforehand, so that everything was prepared to receive the guest he brought with him magnificently, as for the success of his projects he had so great an interest in pleasing him.
Whilst the ceremony we have described was being accomplished, a terrible event was passing not far from it, on the banks of the river, in the camp of Don Tadeo de Leon. The three parties which divided Chili, and aimed at governing it, had, as if of one accord, chosen the day for the renewal of the treaty to throw off the mask and give their partisans the signal of revolt. Don Tadeo, who feared everything from Doña Maria and the General's spies, had consented, but with regret, that Rosario should accompany him to the plain, to be present at the ceremony; he had taken her from the convent, and brought the young girl with him, inwardly pleased that she would thus not be in Valdivia during the serious events that were there preparing.
Doña Rosario, to tell the truth, had only consulted her love in the request she had made of her guardian; the desire of seeing unobserved, for a few hours, the object of her affections, had dictated it. Don Tadeo, who could not on any account be present at the ceremony, being obliged to conceal himself, took the two young Frenchmen aside as soon as his little encampment was arranged. It was then about seven o'clock in the morning, and the crowd began to flock to the plain. The King of Darkness cast a prudent and searching look around, but, reassured by the complete solitude that prevailed, he at length decided upon explaining to the young men, who were astonished at this strange proceeding, all that appeared so unusual and inconsistent in his conduct.
"Caballeros," he said, "since I have had the honour of knowing you, I have concealed nothing from you, and you know all my secrets; this day must decide the question of life or death to which, from my boyhood, I have devoted all the energies of my mind. I must leave this spot instantly, and return to Valdivia. It is in that city that the first blow will be struck, within a few hours, against the tyrant, and the struggle I expect will be terrible. I am not willing to expose the young lady whom you know, and whose life you have already saved, to the chances of it. I confide the care of her to one of you, the other will accompany me to the city. In the event of any fatal mischance happening to me, I will place in his hands a paper, which will inform you both of my intentions, and of what I wish you to do with that poor child, who is all I hold dear on earth, and whom I leave with the greatest pain. Which of you, gentlemen, will take charge of Doña Rosario during my absence?"
"Be at ease, Don Tadeo, go where your duty calls you," Louis answered, in a solemn but agitated tone; "I swear that while I live no danger, either near or distant, shall assail her; to reach her it must pass over my dead body."
"Receive my warmest thanks, Don Louis," the Dark-Heart replied, somewhat surprised, and yet affected by the manner of the Frenchman; "I place implicit faith in your words; I know you will keep your vow at all risks; besides, in a few hours I hope I shall be back, and here she can have nothing to dread."
"I will watch over her," the young man said, quietly.
"Once again I thank you."
Don Tadeo left the young men, and returned to the tent where Doña Rosario, reclining in a hammock, was gently swinging herself, and indulging in perhaps pleasing reveries. On seeing her guardian, she sprang up eagerly.
"Do not disturb yourself, my child," said Don Tadeo, putting her back with a gentle hand, "I have but two words to say to you."
"I am always attentive to you, my kind friend."
"I have come to bid you farewell."
"Farewell, Don Tadeo!" she exclaimed, in great terror.
"Oh! comfort yourself, timid darling! only for a few hours."
"Ah! that is all!" she said, with a smile of satisfaction.
"Certainly, all! There is in this neighbourhood an exceedingly curious grotto. I was foolish enough to let some words slip concerning it this morning before Don Valentine, and that demon of a Frenchman," he added, with a smile, "insists upon my showing it to him; so that, in order to get rid of his importunities, I have been obliged to comply."
"You have done quite right," she said, eagerly; "we are under great obligations to those two French caballeros, and what he asked is such a trifle!"
"That it would have been uncourteous on my part to refuse him," Don Tadeo interrupted, "therefore I have not. We shall set off directly, in order to be the sooner back. Be as cheerful as you can during our absence, dear child."
"I will endeavour," she said, absently.
"Besides, I shall leave Don Louis to take care of you; you can chat together, and the time will quickly pass away."
The young girl blushed as she stammered—"Come back soon, dear friend."
"Time to go and return, that is all; adieu, then, darling!"
Don Tadeo left the tent, and rejoined the young men.
"Adieu, Don Louis!" he said. "Are you ready, Don Valentine?"
"Ready!" the Frenchman replied, laughing; "Caramba! I should be in despair at losing such an opportunity of judging whether you understand getting up revolutions as well as we Frenchmen do."
"Oh! We are but young at the work yet," Don Tadeo remarked; "and yet we begin to have some idea of the matter, I assure you."
"Good-bye, Louis, for a time," said Valentine, pressing his friend's hand; and stooping towards his ear, he added—"Be thankful to your stars, do you not see that Heaven protects your love?" The young man only replied by shaking his head despondingly, and sighing deeply. A peon had brought the horses for the two Chilians and the Frenchman, and they were soon in the saddle. They set off at a quick pace, and were quickly lost in the high grass and the windings of the road. Louis returned pensively to the camp, where he found Doña Rosario alone in her tent; the two Indian chiefs, attracted by curiosity, having gone in the direction of the chapel, where, mingled with the crowd, they might be present at the ceremony. The arrieros and the peons had not been long in following their example.
The young girl was seated on a heap of dyed sheepskins in front of the tent, dreamily looking at, but without seeing, the clouds which were driven across the heavens by a strong breeze. Doña Rosario was a charming girl of sixteen, slender, fragile, and delicate, small in person, whose least gestures and least movements possessed inexpressible attractions. Of a rare kind of beauty in America, she was fair; her long silky hair was of the colour of ripe golden corn; her blue eyes, in which were reflected the azure of the heavens, had that melancholy, dreamy expression which we attribute only to angels, and young girls who are beginning to love; her nose, with its pinky nostrils, was inclined to be aquiline; while her mouth, rather serious, with rosy lips set off by teeth of dazzling whiteness, and her skin of pearl-like purity, altogether made her a charming creature.
The noise of the approaching young man's steps roused her from her reverie. She turned her head in the direction, and looked at him with inexpressible sadness, although a faint smile played upon her lips.
"It is I," said the Count, in a low, inarticulate voice, bowing respectfully.
"I knew of your coming," she replied, in a sweetly-toned voice. "Oh! why did you return to me at all?"
"Be not angry with me for drawing near you once more. I endeavoured to obey you; I left the spot you resided in, without, alas! even the hope of seeing you again; but destiny has decided otherwise."
She gave him a long and eloquent look.
"Unfortunately," he continued, with a melancholy smile, "you are condemned for some hours to endure my presence."
"I must resign myself to it," she said, extending her hand to him cordially.
The young man imprinted a burning kiss upon the white, soft hand he held.
"And so we are left alone!" she said gaily, but withdrawing her hand.
"Good heavens! yes, nearly so," he replied, falling in with her humour. "The Indian chiefs and the peons, overcome by curiosity, have joined the crowds, and kindly procured us atête-à-tête."
"In the midst of ten thousand people!" she said, smiling.
"That is all the better; everyone is engaged with his own affairs, without troubling himself about those of others; and we can speak to each other without the fear of being interrupted by importunate persons."
"True," she said, thoughtfully; "it is frequently amidst a crowd that we find the greatest solitude."
"Does not the heart possess that great faculty of being able to isolate itself when it pleases—to fold itself, as it were, within itself?"
"And is not that faculty often a misfortune?"
"Perhaps it is," he replied, with a sigh.
"But how comes it?" she said, with a half-smiling air, in order to change the conversation, which was becoming a little too serious. "Pardon my giddy impertinence! How comes it, I say, that you, of whom I sometimes caught a glimpse at Paris, during my short sojourn there, and who then enjoyed, if I was not mistaken, a brilliant position, should meet me here so far from your country?"
"Alas! madam, my history is that of many young men, and may be summed up in two words—weakness and ignorance."
"That is but too true; that is the history of nearly all the world, in Europe as well as in America."
At this moment a great noise reached them from the camp. Doña Rosario and the Count were placed so as not to be able to see what was passing in the plain.
"What is that noise?" she asked.
"Probably the tumult of the festival which reaches us: should you like to be present at this ceremony?"
"To what purpose? Those cries and that tumult terrify me."
"And yet, I thought it was you who asked Don Tadeo to see this."
"A silly girl's caprice," she said, "which passed away as soon as conceived."
"But was it not Don Tadeo's intention to——"
"Who can tell Don Tadeo's intention?" she interrupted, with a sigh.
"He appears to love you tenderly?" Louis hazarded, timidly.
"Sometimes I am on the point of believing so; he pays me the most delicate attentions, shews me the tenderest care; then at other times he appears to endure me with, pain—he repulses me—my caresses annoy him."
"Singular conduct!" the Count observed; "this gentleman is your relation, there can be no doubt."
"I do not know," she replied ingenuously; "when alone and pensive, my thoughts stray back to my early years. I have some vague remembrance of a young and handsome woman, whose black eyes smiled upon me constantly, and whose rosy lips lavished affectionate kisses upon me; and then, all at once, a complete darkness comes over my brain, and memory entirely fails me. As far back as I can recollect, I find nobody but Don Tadeo watching over me, everywhere and always, as a father would do over his daughter."
"Perhaps, then," said the Count, "he is your father."
"Listen. One day, after a long and dangerous illness which I had just gone through, and in which Don Tadeo had night and day watched over my pillow for more than a month, happy at seeing me restored to life, for he had been fearful he should lose me, he smiled upon me tenderly, kissed my brow and my hands, and appeared to experience the most lively joy. 'Oh!' I said, as a sudden thought rushed across my mind; 'oh! you are my father! None but a father could devote himself with such abnegation for his child!' and throwing my arms round his neck, I concealed my tear-laden face on his chest. Don Tadeo arose, his countenance was lividly pale, his features were frightfully contracted; he repulsed me roughly, and strode hastily about the chamber. I Your father! I! Doña Rosario!' he cried, in a husky voice, 'you are a silly, poor child! Never repeat those words again; your father is dead, and your mother, likewise, long, long ago. I am not your father—never repeat that word—I am only your friend. Yes, your father, at the point of death, confided you to my care, and that is why I am bringing you up, that is why I watch over you; as to me, I am not even your relation!' His agitation was extreme; he said many other things which I do not now remember, and then he left me. Alas! from that day I have never ventured to ask him for any account of my family."
A silence ensued; the two young people were pensively thoughtful: the simple and touching recital of Doña Rosario had strongly affected the Count. At length he said, in a tremulous voice,—
"Letmelove you, Doña Rosario!"
The maiden sighed.
"To what could that love lead, Don Louis?" she said sadly,—"to death, perhaps!"
"Oh!" he exclaimed madly; "and it would be welcome, if it came in your defence!"
At this very instant, several individuals rushed into the tent, uttering discordant cries. Quick as thought, the Count threw himself before the young girl, a pistol in each hand. But, as if Heaven had decreed that he should accomplish the wish he had just uttered, before he had time to defend himself, he was struck to the earth, stabbed by several machetes. In falling, he saw, as if in a dream, Doña Rosario seized by two individuals, who fled away with her in their arms. With an incredible effort, the young man succeeded in getting on his knees, and afterwards in rising altogether. He beheld the ravishers hastening towards their horses, which were being held at a short distance by an Indian. He took aim at the flying wretches, crying, with a faint voice, "Murder! Murder!" and fired.
One of the ravishers fell, uttering an imprecation of rage. The Count, exhausted by the superhuman effort he had made, staggered like a drunken man; the blood gushed from his ears, his sight grew dim, and he rolled senseless upon the ground.
The three travellers returned with such speed to Valdivia, that it scarcely took them an hour and a half to traverse the distance which divided the plain from the city. They passed on their way General Don Pancho Bustamente, at the head of a detachment of lanceros, and attended by a numerous staff; but the Dark-Hearts, employing their usual precautions, escaped notice. Don Tadeo cast an ironical glance at his enemy.
"Look," he said, with a somewhat malignant smile, to Don Gregorio, "at our worthy general; he fancies himself already protector. What a majestic bearing he affects!"
"Yes," said Don Gregorio, with the same expression; "but between the cup and the lip he may find there is room for a mischance."
It was striking ten as they entered Valdivia. The city was almost deserted: for all who were not detained at home by urgent business had gone to the plain, to be present at the renewal of the treaties between the Chilians and the Araucanos. This ceremony strongly interested the inhabitants of the province: it was for them a guarantee of tranquillity for the future; that is to say, the liberty of carrying on with safety their commercial transactions with the Indians. More than all the other provinces of Chili, Valdivia had cause to dread hostilities with its redoubtable neighbours. Separated entirely from the territory of the republic, when left to its own resources, the least movement among the Moluchos annihilated its commerce. If the inhabitants appeared to have emigrated for a time, it was not the same with the soldiers; the numerous garrison, composed—a thing unheard of in time of peace—of fifteen hundred men, had been still further increased within the last two days, principally in the course of the preceding night, by two regiments of cavalry, and a battery of artillery.
For what purpose was this calling together of forces, which nothing appeared to justify? The few inhabitants who remained in the city experienced a vague uneasiness on this head, for which they could not account. There is a singular fact that we wish to point out here, but which we by no means take upon ourselves to explain, because it has always seemed to us inexplicable. When a great event, whatever it may be, is about to be accomplished in a country, a vague presentiment seems to warn the inhabitants; men and things assume an unusual aspect; nature itself, associating with this disposition of men's minds, grows sensibly darker; a magnetic fluid rushes through the veins; a painful pressure weighs upon every breast; the atmosphere becomes heavy; the sun loses its brilliancy; and people only communicate their impressions to each other in a suppressed voice; in short, there is in the air something incomprehensible, but I know not what, which says to man in a dismal tone, "Beware! a catastrophe threatens thee!" And this fatal presentiment is so general, that when the event takes place, and the crisis is over, every one instinctively cries, "I felt it!" And yet no one could say why he foresaw the cataclysm.
It is the sentiment of self-preservation which God has placed in the heart of man—that sentiment which constitutes his safeguard, and is so strong, that when danger approaches him, it cries to him, "Beware!" Valdivia was at this moment oppressed by the weight of an unknown apprehension. The few citizens who remained in the city hastened to regain their homes. Numerous patrols of cavalry and infantry traversed the streets in all directions; cannon rolled along with portentous noise, and were planted at the comers of all the principal places. At the cabildo a crowd of officers and soldiers went in and out with a busy air; couriers succeeded each other unceasingly, and after having delivered the orders with which they were charged, set off again at full speed.
At the same time, at the corners of streets, men wrapped in large cloaks, and with hats pulled down over their eyes, harangued the workmen and the sailors of the port, and formed groups, which every instant became more numerous. In these groups, arms, gun barrels, bayonets, and pike heads began to glitter in the sun. When these mysterious men were satisfied that they had accomplished their task in one place, they went to another. Immediately after their departure, as if by magic, barricades were raised behind them, and impeded the passage. As soon as a barricade was terminated, an energetic-looking sentinel, a workman with bare arms, but with a callous hand, brandishing a gun, an axe, or a sabre, placed himself at its summit, and bade all who approached go another way.
On entering the city, Don Tadeo and his companions found themselves completely barricaded. Don Tadeo smiled triumphantly. The three men cleared the barricades, which were thrown open at their approach, and the sentinels bowed to them as they passed. We have forgotten to say that all three were masked. There was something striking in the march of these three phantoms, before whom all obstacles gave way. If now and then a stray citizen ventured to ask timidly who those three masked men were, he received for answer, "It is the King of Darkness and his lieutenants;" and the citizen, trembling with fear, crossed himself, and went his way hastily.
The three men thus arrived at the entrance of the Plaza Mayor. There two pieces of mounted cannon barred their passage, and the artillerymen were at their guns waiting, match in hand. At a sign from Don Tadeo, the officer who commanded approached him. He leant down upon the neck of his horse and said a few words to the officer in a whisper; the latter bowed respectfully, and, turning to his soldiers, said—
"Let these gentlemen pass."
In all the cities of Spanish America there is a monumental fountain in the centre of the Plaza Mayor. It was towards this fountain that Don Tadeo conducted his companions. A hundred individuals, scattered here and there, and who appeared to expect him, drew together at his approach.
"Well," Don Tadeo asked Valentine, "how do you like our ride?"
"Delightful," the other replied, "only I fancy we shall shortly come to blows, and hear the hissing of bullets."