We must now return to the Far West.
On the banks of the Rio Grande del Norte, about ten leagues' distance from thepresidioof San Lucar stood theatepelt, or temporary village, of Des Venados.
Theatepelt, a simple camp, like most of the Indian villages, consisted of about a hundredcallis, or huts, irregularly grouped near each other.
Eachcalliwas built of about a dozen stakes driven into the ground, four or five feet high at the sides, and six or seven in the centre, with an aperture towards the east, for the master of thecallito throw water in the direction of the rising sun—a ceremony by which the Indians conjure the Wacondah to befriend their families during the course of the day just breaking.
Thesecalliswere covered with bison hides sewn together, with a hole in the centre to admit the exit of the smoke of the fires kindled in the interior,—fires which equal in number the wives of the owner, each wife having a right to a fire of her own.
The hides which formed the outer walls were carefully dressed, and painted of divers colours; the painting, by its extravagance, enlivening the aspect of theatepelt.
The lances of the fighting men were planted upright in the ground in front of the entrance to thecalli.These light lances, made of flexible reed, sixteen or eighteen feet long, and armed at one end with a long grooved iron, forged by the Indians themselves, are the most redoubtable weapons of the Apaches.
The liveliest joy seemed to animate theatepelt.In somecallisthe women were spinning the wool of their flocks with their spindles; in others they wove thosezarapés, so renowned for their fineness and the perfection of the work, at looms of primitive simplicity.
The young people of the tribe, assembled in the centre of theatepelt,—a large open space,—were playing atmilt(an Indian word signifying "arrow") a singular game, to which the Indians are greatly addicted.
The players trace a large circle on the ground, into which they step, arranging themselves in two opposite rows. The leader of one row, holding a ball filled with air in the right hand, the leader of the other in the left, they throw their balls backwards with a motion which brings them in front again. The left leg is then lifted, the ball caught and hurled at the opposite player, whose body it must touch, under penalty of losing a point. A thousand extravagant contortions ensue on the part of the latter, in order to avoid the ball: he stoops, he rises, bends himself backwards or forwards, jumps up where he stands, or bounds to one side. If the ball quits the ring, the first player loses two points and runs after it; if, on the contrary, the second is struck, he must seize the ball and throw it back at his opponent, whom it must hit, or he loses a point. The next in order, at the opposite side of the ring, begins the game again; and so on, till the close of the sport.
One can understand what shouts of laughter arise from the grotesque attitudes into which the players fall as the game goes on.
Other Indians of riper age, were gravely playing with curious packs of cards, made of squares of hide, coarsely painted with figures of different animals.
In acallilarger and better painted than the other huts of theatepelt—the dwelling of thesachem, or principal chief, whose lances, ornamented at the foot with pieces of skin-dyed red, were the distinguishing badge of power—three men, crouched round the embers of a fire, were, talking, heedless of the uproar without. They were the Tigercat, the Zopilote, and theamantzin, or the sorcerer of the tribe.
The Zopilote was a half-breed, who had taken refuge with the Apaches long ago, and been adopted by them. This man, every way worthy of the name he bore, was a wretch whose cold and malignant cruelty revolted the very Indians, who are themselves not delicate in matters of this kind. The Tigercat had made this ferocious miscreant, who was devoted to him, prime-minister of his vengeance, and the docile instrument of his will. His latest wife, to whom he had been married a year, had given birth to a boy that morning—hence the rejoicings of the Indians; and he had come to take the orders of the Tigercat—the great chief of the tribe—with respect to the ceremonies usual on the like occasions.
The Zopilote left thecalli, to which he speedily returned, followed by his wives and all his friends, one of whom held the infant in his arms. The Tigercat, placing himself between the Zopilote and theamantzinat the head of the party, led them towards the Rio Grande del Norte.
The procession halted on the bank of the river; theamantzintook a little water in the hollow of his hand, and threw it into the air, muttering a prayer tothe Master of the life of men.He next proceeded tothe great medicine;that is, the newborn child, wrapped in his woollen swaddling bands, was five times plunged into the waters of the river, while theamantzinrepeated, in a loud voice:
"Master of life, look upon this young warrior with favourable eye; remove from him all evil influences; protect him, Wacondah!"
At the termination of this part of the ceremony, the procession returned to theatepelt, and arranged itself in a circle in front of the Zopilote'scalli, at the entrance of which lay a young mare on her back, with her four feet tied together. A newzarapéwas stretched under the belly of the animal, on which relations and friends deposited, one after the other, the gifts intended for the child—spurs, arms, and clothing. The Tigercat, out of friendship for the Zopilote, had consented to act as godfather to the infant. He placed it in the midst of the various gifts which filled thezarapé.
Then the Zopilote seized his scalping knife, opened at one slash the flanks of the mare, tore out the heart, and gave it, bleeding as it was, to the Tigercat, who made a cross with it on the forehead of the child, addressing him thus:
"Young warrior of the tribe of Apache-Bisons, be brave and cunning. I name theeMixcoatzin—Cloud-Serpent."
The father took the child, and the chief, raising the bleeding heart above his head, shouted thrice:
"Long live the Cloud-Serpent!"
The cry was enthusiastically repeated by the bystanders. Theamantzinthen commended the child to the Spirit of Evil, praying him to make the young warrior brave, eloquent, and cunning; terminating his prayer in these words, which found an ardent response in the hearts of all those fierce beings:
"Above all, may he never be a slave!"
Thus terminated the ceremony: every religious rite had been performed. The poor mare, the victim of this stupid superstition, was cut into pieces; a great fire was kindled; friends and relations took their seats at a feast, which was intended to last until nothing was left of the mare.
The Zopilote was about to seat himself, and feast with the others; but, at a sign from the Tigercat, he followed the great chief to hiscalli, where they once more took their seats by the fire. Theamantzinwas also with them.
The Tigercat waved his band to his wives, who left thecalli, and after a short meditation, spoke as follows:
"I trust my brothers, and my heart opens before them like achirimoya" (a kind of American pear), "to show them my secret thoughts: I have sorrowed for many days."
"My father sorrows for his son Stoneheart," said theamantzin.
"No; I care not where he is now; I can find him again when I want him. But I have a secret mission to confide to a safe man. Till this morning, I hesitated to open my heart to you."
"Let my father speak; his sons listen."
"To hesitate longer would be to compromise things sacred. You will to horse, Zopilote; I have no words for you: you know where I send you. Induce these men to aid our enterprise; it will be a notable service."
"I will do it. Do I go at once?"
"Without delay."
"In ten minutes I shall be far hence;" and, saluting the chiefs, he went out.
A few minutes later, the sound of a horse's hoofs fading away in the distance announced his departure.
Tigercat gave a sigh of satisfaction.
"Let my brother, theamantzinopen his ears," said he. "I am about to leave theatepelt, I hope to be back tonight; but my absence may be for two or three days. I leave my brother in my stead and place; he will command the warriors, and will forbid them to go far from the village, or approach the frontiers of the palefaces. It is important that the Gachupinos (Mexicans) should not learn that we are so near them; to do so would mar our plan. Does my brother understand?"
"The Tigercat has no forked tongue; the words breathed from his mouth are clear. His son understands."
"Good. I can go in peace: my brother will watch over the tribe."
"I will obey the orders of my father. If he is absent many suns, he will not have to reproach his son."
"Ugh! My son's words lift the skin that covered my heart and filled it with sorrow. The Master of Life watch over him! I go."
"Ugh! My brother is a sage warrior. The Wacondah will protect him on his road; he will succeed."
The two men gravely saluted each other. Theamantzinremained by the fire; the chief departed.
It is probable that, if the oldsachemhad remarked the expression of knavish hate on the face of the sorcerer at the moment they parted, he would not have quitted the village.
As the Tigercat threw himself into the saddle with a lightness hardly to be expected at his years, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and night enveloped the prairie.
The old man, without seeming to care for the darkness, pressed his horse with his knees, gave him his head, and galloped off.
The sorcerer, with bent person and head stretched forward, listened anxiously to the lessening sound of the chief's rapid course. When all was still again, he raised himself erect, a smile of triumph played across his thin and livid lips, and he uttered triumphantly the words, "At last!"—a summary of the thoughts secreted in his heart.
Then he arose, left thecalli, seated himself a few paces from it, crossed his arms over his chest, and chanted, in a deep bass and a mournful and monotonous rhythm, the Apache lament, beginning with the following verse, which we reproduce as a specimen of the language of this barbarous people:
"El mebin ni tlacaelanteyTuz apan Pilco payentzinAncu maguida coaltzinAy guinchey ni polio menchey."
[I have lost mytlacaelanteyin the country of Pilco. Oh, murderous knives, which have changed him into shades and flies!]
As the sorcerer went on with his song, his voice became by degrees louder and more confident. In a short time, warriors, wrapped in their bison robes, issued from several of the huts, and, with furtive steps, approached the sorcerer, and entered thecalli.At the close of the lament, the sorcerer rose, ascertained that no other person was coming towards him, that no laggard was loitering at his call, and in his turn entered thecalli, to join those whom he had convoked thus singularly.
There were twenty men in all; they stood silent and motionless, like bronze statues, round the fire, whose flames, revived by the draught caused by their entrance, threw sinister shadows over their stern and determined features. Theamantzinplaced himself in the midst, and said:
"Let my brothers sit at the council fire."
The warriors squatted down in a circle.
The sorcerer then took from the hands of thehachesto, or public crier, the great calumet, the bowl of which was of red clay, and the tube six feet long, of aloes wood, garnished with feathers and hawks' bells. He filled it with a washed tobacco, calledmorriche, which is never used except upon great occasions, lighted it with a medicine stick, and having drawn a long breath of more than a minute, and discharged the smoke through mouth and nose, presented the calumet to the warrior on his right. The latter followed his example; and the calumet passed thus from hand to hand, till it returned to theamantzin.
The latter shook the ashes into the fire, muttering, in a low voice, a few unintelligible words; after which, be restored the calumet to thehachesto, who went out to watch, in order to ensure secrecy to the deliberations of the council.
There was a long silence; the profoundest calm brooded over the village; no sound disturbed the tranquillity of theatepelt;and one might have thought oneself a hundred leagues from a human dwelling.
At length theamantzinrose, cast a searching look over the assembly, and spoke.
"Let my brothers open their ears," he said in measured tones. "The spirit of the Master of Life has entered into my body; it is he who dictates the words which spring from my lips. Chiefs of the Bison-Apaches! The spirit of your ancestors has ceased to animate your souls. You are no longer the terrible warriors, who declared war, without truce or mercy, against the palefaces—those cowards, and hateful despoilers of your hunting grounds; you are only antelopes, who fly with faltering feet from the distant sound of anerupha(gun) of the palefaces; you are old women, to whom theYorris(Spanish) give their petticoats; your blood no longer runs bright in your veins, and a skin stretches over your heart and covers it completely. You, formerly so brave and terrible, have made yourselves the coward slaves of a dog of a paleface, who chases you like frightened rabbits, and holds you trembling under his eye. Thus speaks the Master of Life. What do you answer, warriors of the Apaches?"
He ceased, and waited for one of the chiefs to take up the word. During this insulting speech, a tremor of indignation agitated the Indians; it was only by great efforts they obtained the mastery over their passion. But when theamantzinceased, a chief rose.
"Is the sorcerer of the Apaches-Bisons mad," said he in a voice of thunder, "that he should speak thus to the chiefs of his nation? He who counts the foxes' tails attached to our heels will see if we are women, and if the courage of our ancestors is dead in our hearts. What if the Tigercat is a paleface?—His heart is Apache. The Tigercat is wise; he has seen many things; the counsels he gives are good."
Theamantzinsmiled with disdain.
"My brother the White-Eagle speaks well; it is not for me to answer him."
He struck his hands thrice. A warrior appeared.
"Let my brother," said theamantzinto him, "tell the council the mission with which he was charged by the Tigercat."
The redskin advanced to the circle, and bowed low before the chiefs, who were all gazing at him.
"The Tigercat," spoke a deep and mournful voice, "had ordered the Black-Falcon to form an ambush with twenty warriors on the path of the palefaces, whom Stoneheart pretended to guide to their big stone huts. The Black-Falcon followed the palefaces a long time in the prairie. Their trail was clear; they had no arms; nothing seemed more easy than to seize them. An hour before the time fixed for the attack, Stoneheart appeared alone in the camp of the warriors. The Black-Falcon received him with the signs of friendship and praise, because he had abandoned theYorris.But Stoneheart replied, that Tigercat forbade the attack on the palefaces, and, throwing himself on the Black-Falcon, thrust the knife into his heart; while theYorris, who had stolen upon the camp, surprised the warriors, and massacred them witheruphasgiven by Tigercat himself. This treachery was done to put Black-Falcon out of his path, whose fame he envied. Twenty warriors followed the war path; six returned with me to theatepelt:the others have been slain by the Tigercat. I have said."
This astonishing revelation created a stern silence of amazement and rage. It was the calm that harbours the tempest. The chiefs looked from one to the other with eyes of wrath.
Of all races, the redskins are the most remarkable for the rapidity with which their moods change, and are most easily led away by feelings of rage. Theamantzinwas aware of this; therefore he was sure of his triumph, after the terrible impression made by the recital of the warrior.
"Ugh!" said he, "What do my brothers think now of the counsels of the Tigercat? Does the White-Eagle still think he has the heart of an Apache? Who will avenge the death of the Black-Falcon?"
Most of the chiefs rose at once, brandishing their scalping knives.
"The Tigercat is a thieving dog, and a coward!" they shouted. "The Apache warriors will tie his scalp to their girdles."
Only two or three of thesachemsattempted to protest; they knew theamantzin'sinveterate and long-standing hatred of Tigercat; they knew the knavish character of the sorcerer; and suspected that, in this affair, the truth had been disguised and garbled in order to serve the vengeance of the man who had vowed the death of a foe whom he would never dare to face openly.
But the voices of these chiefs were soon stifled by the clamorous ire of the other Indians. Renouncing, for the present, a useless discussion, they withdrew from the circle, and grouped themselves in a corner of thecalli, resolved to remain the impassive, if not indifferent, witnesses of the resolutions to be taken by the council.
The Indians are grown-up children, who lash themselves into fury with the sound of their own words and, when excited by their passions, forget all prudence and moderation.
However, in the present case, although they felt the fiercest desire to avenge themselves on the Tigercat,—whom at this moment they hated so much the more because they had loved and respected him so highly,—although the most violent measures were proposed against him, still it was not without some degree of hesitation that they proceeded to act against their aged chief. The reason was simple enough: these primitive beings recognised only one kind of superiority,—that of brute strength; and the Tigercat, in spite of his great age, enjoyed among them a reputation for strength and courage, too well established for them not to look forward with a certain degree of fear to the consequences of the action they meditated.
Theamantzintried in vain, by all the means in his power, to convince them how easy it would be to seize Tigercat on his return to the village. The sorcerer's project was excellent; if the chiefs chose to avail themselves of it, it would be impossible to fail. The plan was this: the Apaches were to feign ignorance of the death of the Black-Falcon; they were to receive him on his return with the greatest protestations of joy, in order to lull the suspicions he might entertain, and seize him while he slept; they were to bind him securely, and tie him to the torture stake. One sees that the plan was extremely simple; but the Apaches would not listen to it, so great was the dread they felt for their foe.
Finally, after a discussion which lasted the greater part of the night, it was definitely settled that the tribe should strike their camp, and bury themselves in the desert, without troubling themselves with any further thought of their old leader.
But just at that moment the dissentient chiefs who, up to that time, had taken no part in what was going on, left the corner of thecallito which they had retired, and one of them, called Fire-Eye, taking up the word in the name of his companions, observed that those of thesachemswho wished to depart might do so, but could not impose their will on others; that the tribe had no great chief legally chosen; that each was at liberty to act as he pleased; and that, as for themselves, they were resolved not to repay with black ingratitude the eminent services the Tigercat had rendered the tribe for many years past; and they would not quit the village before his return.
This determination gave great anxiety to theamantzin, who vainly sought to overcome it: the chiefs would listen to nothing, and adhered firmly to their determination.
At sunrise, by order of the sorcerer, who already acted from that time forward as if he was the recognised grand chief of the tribe, thehachestosummoned the warriors to the open space of the village, by the ark of the first man, and orders were given to the women to pull down thecallis, and harness and load the dogs, that they might depart as soon as possible. The order was promptly executed; the pickets were drawn, the bison hides folded, household utensils carefully packed, and placed on sledges, to be drawn by the dogs.
But the dissentient chiefs had not been idle on their side: they had managed to win over to their opinion several renowned warriors of the people, so that only about three-quarters of the tribe prepared to emigrate, while the other quarter remained stoical spectators of the arrangements for travel which were going on before them.
At last thehachesto, at the order of theamantzin, gave the signal to march.
Then a long line of sledges drawn by dogs, and of women laden with children, quitted the village, escorted by a numerous band of warriors, and was soon winding its way, like a great serpent, through the prairie.
When their brothers had disappeared in the depths of the wilderness, the warriors who had remained faithful to the Tigercat assembled to deliberate on the measures to be taken until his return.
In the meantime Don Fernando Carril, bending over his horse's mane, was gliding through the night like a phantom.
Thanks to the precaution he had taken of wrapping pieces of sheepskin round the hoofs of the horse, he passed on silently and rapidly as the spectre-horseman of the German ballad, making the frightened packs ofcoyotesfly before his career.
Gradually he neared the banks of the river, which he forded without slackening his speed; inciting his steed by voice and gesture, and throwing sharp glances to right and left, before and behind him.
His flight lasted full three hours, during which the Mexican never allowed his favourite a moment's respite to fetch his breath and rest his tired limbs.
But when at last he arrived at a spot on the narrow river, where it rolled its muddy waters between low banks lined with tufted cotton trees, he alighted in a thick coppice, and, having convinced himself he was alone, plucked a handful of grass, and rubbed his horse down with that care, and solicitude of which those alone are capable whose lives may at any moment depend on the speed of their faithful and devoted companion. Then taking off the bridle, and leaving him to graze on the tall and abundant grasses, the Mexican spread hiszarapéon the ground, and closed his eyes.
Nothing troubled the silence of the night; no sound arose in the desert. Don Fernando lay motionless as a corpse, his eyes still closed, and his head supported by his left arm; and thus he lay for two hours.
Did he sleep? Did he wake? None could say. Suddenly the hooting of an owl arose on the air. In an instant Don Fernando half-raised himself, bent his head forward, and listened, with his eyes fixed on the heavens.
It was deep in the night; the stars were shedding on the earth their obscure and doubtful light; nothing foretold the approach of day.
It was scarcely two o'clock in the morning; the owl is the first bird to announce the approach of the sun, but owls do not proclaim the day three hours before it breaks. Notwithstanding the perfection of the imitation, the Mexican hesitated. Soon a second hoot, followed by a third, dispersed the doubts of Don Fernando; he rose, and thrice repeated the cry of the water hawk.
A similar cry issued immediately from the opposite bank of the river.
Don Fernando bridled his horse, cast hiszarapéover his shoulders, examined his weapons to ensure their efficacy, flung himself into the saddle without touching stirrup, and crossed the river.
A short distance in front of him lay an islet, covered with poplars and cotton trees, towards which he bent his steps. The approach to the islet was easy; the horse, recruited by his two hours' rest, swam strongly, and touched the ground nearly in a straight line from the spot where he had plunged in.
Scarcely had the Mexican reached the land, when a rider emerged from the thicket, and halting some twenty paces off, exclaimed, in a loud voice, and an accent of great discontent:
"You were late in replying to my signal. I was on the point of leaving."
"Perhaps it would have been better had you done so," sharply replied Don Fernando.
"Aha!" said the other mockingly, "Does the wind blow from that quarter?"
"Never mind whence it blows, if I do not sail before it. I am here; what do you want with me? Be short; for I have no time to give you."
"¡Vive Dios!Something very interesting must entice you to the place whence you came, if you are so anxious to be there again."
"Listen, Tigercat," roundly and sharply replied the Mexican; "if you have summoned me here so urgently merely to chafe and laugh at me, it is useless to stay longer; so, adieu!"
As he said this, Don Fernando turned as if to retire and quit the island.
The Tigercat—for his interlocutor was no other than that extraordinary personage—quickly seized a pistol, and cocked it.
"¡Rayo de Dios!" said he; "if you stir a foot, I will blow your brains out!"
"Pooh!" replied the other, with a sneer; "What should I be doing in the meanwhile? A truce to threats, or I kill you like a dog."
With action as prompt as the Tigercat's, he too had drawn a pistol, cocked, and presented it at his opponent.
"You would not dare to do it."
"You know I dare all," said the Mexican.
"We have lost time enough; let us proceed to business," said the old man, alighting from his horse.
"Well, let us proceed to business. What is it you want with me?" replied Don Fernando, also dismounting.
"Why have you deceived and turned against me, instead of serving me, as you are bound?"
"I was bound to nothing with you; on the contrary, I roundly refused the mission which you persisted in forcing upon me."
"Could you not have remained neuter, and allowed these people to fall into my hands again?"
"No; my honour compelled me to defend them."
"Your honour!" burst out the Tigercat, with a cynical laugh.
The Mexican was confused: he frowned, but recovered himself, and continued:
"Hospitality is sacred in the prairie; its rights are indefeasible. The people I guided had placed themselves, of their own accord, under my protection: to abandon, or refuse to defend them, would have been to betray them. You yourself would have done as I did."
"It is useless to recur any more to this, or to discuss a deed that is done. Why did you not return to me?"
"Because I preferred to stay at San Lucar."
"Yes; civilized life is sure to attract you; I can understand that this double part you are playing, at your own risk and peril, has charms for you. Don Fernando Carril is received with open arms in the circles of the highest Mexican society. But believe me, boy, you had better take heed lest your adventurous spirit lead you into some false steps, from which not all the courage of Stoneheart could save you."
"I did not come here to listen to sermons."
"True; but it is my duty to read you the sermons you did not come to hear. As long as I remain in the desert, I will not lose sight of you for a moment. I know all your doings; I am ignorant of nothing regarding you."
"And why have you surrounded me with spies?" said Don Fernando haughtily.
"In order to know if I could still repose the same confidence in you."
"And what have you learned from your spies?"
"Nothing but what is satisfactory; only I insist on knowing how we stand towards each other."
"Do not your spies make you aware of my slightest doings?"
"Yes, of all that concerns you personally: thus I know you have not yet ventured to present yourself to Don Pedro de Luna;" and he sneered.
"True; but I intend to see him tomorrow."
The Tigercat shrugged his shoulders in disdain.
"Let us speak of more serious matters," said he. "How do we stand?"
"I have followed your instructions in everything. For two years, since the time I first made my appearance in San Lucar, I have lost no single opportunity of forming connections, which will, I hope be of service to you later on. Although my appearance at thepueblois rare, and my visits are short, I still think I have attained the object you proposed to yourself when you gave me my orders. The mystery with which I surround myself has been of more use to me than I dared to hope. I have attached to myself the greater number of thevaquerosandleperosin thepresidio—gallows birds, but I can count upon them; they are devoted to me. These fellows only know me as Don Fernando Carril."
"Ah, I know all that," said the Tigercat.
"You do?" said the Mexican, looking at the old man with a glance of anger.
"Have I not told you I never left you out of my sight?"
"Yes—as far as my personal affairs are concerned."
"Well, the hour is come to gather the harvest we have sown among these villains. They will serve me better against their countrymen than the redskins in whom I dare not place perfect confidence. They are acquainted with Spanish tactics, and accustomed to firearms. Now that your part with thepícarosis over, I shall begin to play mine. I must enter into direct relation with them."
"As you please; I thank you for releasing me from the responsibility of an affair the object of which you have never thought fit to confide to me. I shall be glad to procure you the means of treating personally with the rascals I have engaged in your service."
"I understand your longings to be free, and approve them the more, since it was I who first inspired you with the wish to become better acquainted with the charming daughter of Don Pedro de Luna."
"Not a word of her," said Don Fernando fiercely. "If, up to the present time, I have consented to be guided by you, and to obey your orders without discussing them, the time has now come to place the question clearly and categorically before us, so that no misunderstanding may arise between us in the future. It is this reason alone which had weight enough to bring me tonight in answer to your summons."
The Tigercat looked at the Mexican long and fixedly; then he replied:
"Speak, then, madman, who do not see the gulf which yawns at your feet: speak; I listen."
Don Fernando remained some time lost in thought, leaning against the knotted trunk of a poplar, and with his eyes cast on the ground.
"Tigercat," said he at length, "I know not who you are, nor the motives which have induced you to renounce civilisation, to take refuge in the desert, and adopt the life of the Indian; I do not wish to know them. Every man is responsible for his own actions, and must render an account of them to his own conscience. As to myself, never has a word from your mouth taught me in what place I was born, or to what family I belong. Although you brought me up—although, as far back as my memory carries me, I have seen no one belonging to me but yourself—yet I cannot think you are my father. Had I been your son, or even only a distant relative, it is evident my training would have been widely different to that which I received at your express commands."
"What are those words your bold lips utter?—How dare you venture to fling reproaches at me?" said the old man, bursting into a fit of passion.
"Interrupt me not, Tigercat; let me open my thoughts to you entirely," sadly replied the Mexican. "I do not reproach you; but from the time when, under the name of Don Fernando Carril, you forced me into the whirl of civilised life, in spite of myself, and no doubt in spite of you, I have learned two things, and my eyes have been opened. I have comprehended the meaning of two words, the significance of which was unknown to me till then. These two words have changed not only my character, but the light in which I used to look at things; for, with a purpose I cannot divine, you applied yourself from my infancy to foster every evil sentiment germinating within me, while you carefully stifled the few good qualities which my heart might haply have possessed, had it not been for the system you adopted. In a word, I have now arrived at the knowledge of good and evil. I know all your efforts have been exerted to make me a human wild beast. Have you succeeded? The future shall show. To judge by the feelings that are surging in my heart while I speak to you, you have not reached the result you aimed at; be that as it may, I am no longer your slave. I have served too long as the instrument in your hands of deeds whose aim I cannot see. You have yourself taught me that family bonds do not exist in nature; that they are absurd prejudices, trammels invented by civilisation; that no man has a right to impose his will as law on others; that the real man is he who walks free through life, unincumbered by relation or friend, recognising no master but his own desires. Well, then, I will now put in practice these precepts you have so long and steadily inculcated. What matters to me whether I be Don Fernando Carril, or Stoneheart the Bee-hunter? Following the law laid down by yourself, and elevating ingratitude into a virtue, I take back my own free liberty and independence of you, recognising no claim of yours to influence my life for good or for evil, and assuming from henceforth the right to walk after my own impulses, whatever may happen in consequence of my resolve."
"Go, my child," said the Tigercat, with his mocking sneer; "go, act as you think fit; but, in spite of all your efforts, you will soon come back to me; for say what you will, you belong to me, and will soon know it. But it does not rouse my ire to hear you speak thus; it is not you who speak—it is love. I am very old, Fernando, but not so old as to have lost all recollections of my youth. Love has mastered your heart; when he has utterly burnt it up, you will return to the desert; for then you will have learnt what that life is into which you, poor, ignorant child, are just plunging. You will have learnt that life in this world is but a feather blown hither and thither by every varying breeze; and that at the breath of love, the man who thinks himself the strongest becomes more feeble than the weakest and most wretched of created beings. But let us break off: it is your will to be free; be so. First of all, however, you have to render me an account of the mission with which I charged you."
"I will do so. Present yourself to thevaquerosin my name; this diamond"—and he drew one from his finger—"will be your passport. They have been warned: show it to them, and they will obey you as they would myself."
"Where do these men meet?"
"You will find most of them at a lowpulqueríain the new Pueblo de San Lucar. But do you really intend to venture within thepresidio?"
"Assuredly. Now, one word more: can I count upon you when the hour for action arrives?"
"You can, if what you purpose is right."
"Aha! You are already beginning to impose conditions."
"Have I not told you so?—Or shall I remain neuter?"
"No; I have need of you. You will, I suppose, inhabit the house you bought? Every day a trusty person shall inform you of the course of events; and when the proper moment comes, I know you will be with me."
"Perhaps I may; but happen what will, do not depend too much upon it."
"I do depend upon it, nevertheless, and I will tell you why. At present you are under the impulse of love, and naturally your reasoning succumbs to the influence of the passion that masters you. But before a month is over, see what will inevitably happen. Either you will succeed,—and satiety, following on the heels of sated passion, will make you glad to return to the wilderness,—or you will fail, and jealousy and wounded pride will inspire the lust for vengeance, and you will seize with joy the opportunity I shall offer you to glut it."
"I see clearly that very shortly we shall not understand each other at all," said the Mexican with a melancholy smile. "You always reason from your evil passions, so great is your hatred of men, and the contempt you feel for the human race; while I only listen to my good feelings, and suffer myself to be guided by them."
"Well, well, child; I give you a month to finish your caterwauling. That time passed, we will resume our conversation. Adieu."
"Adieu. Are you bound for thepresidio?"
"No; I return to my village, where, too, I have a little matter of business; for, unless I am mistaken, curious things have happened since I left it."
"Do you dread a revolt there against your power?"
"I do not dread, I wish it," was the enigmatical answer.
The old man then bid the Mexican farewell, mounted his horse, and rode into the thicket.
Don Fernando stood there some time, plunged in serious thought, listening mechanically to the sound of the horse's hoofs as they died away in the distance. When he could no longer hear them, he turned his head in the direction Tigercat had taken.
"Go," said he hoarsely; "go, savage, in the belief that I have not discovered your project. I will dig a mine under your feet to explode and crush you. I will foil your attempt. I would dare more than man dares to baffle your machinations. It is three o'clock," he continued, after looking at the sky, from which the stars were fading out; "I shall have time."
He called his horse and mounted, took the direction of Don Estevan'srancho, and recommenced his headlong course across the wilderness.
The horse, fresh from his long rest, stretched himself out freely; and daylight was just beginning to appear when they reached therancho.
Don Fernando gave a sigh of satisfaction. All was quiet about the dwelling; all the inhabitants seemed wrapped in repose. The secret of his nocturnal excursion was safe.
He unsaddled his horse, groomed him carefully,—so as to leave no signs of his ride,—and led him to thecorral, where he carefully divested his hoofs of the pieces of sheepskin, turned him in, closed the door, and softly returned to the zaguán.
Just as he was about to climb into his hammock, he observed a man, who, leaning against the doorpost with his legs crossed, was calmly smoking hispajillo.
Don Fernando recoiled on recognising his host; it was, in fact, Estevan Diaz.
The latter, without the slightest semblance of surprise, took the cigarette from his mouth, blew out an enormous mouthful of smoke, and addressed his guest in a tone of the most polished courtesy.
"You must be greatly fatigued with your long ride tonight,caballero.Will you have anything to restore you?"
Don Fernando, horrified at the coolness with which this was uttered, hesitated for a moment.
"How am I to understand you,caballero?" said he.
"How?" said the other. "Pooh! What is the use of dissembling? I assure you, it is useless to attempt to blind me: I know all."
"You know all! What do you know?" replied the Mexican, anxious to ascertain how far Don Estevan was acquainted with what had occurred.
"I know," replied themajor-domo, "that you rose, that you saddled your horse, and that you went to meet one of your friends who was waiting for you at the Isle de los Pavos."
"What!" cried Don Fernando, scarcely repressing his rage; "You dared to follow me?"
"¡Vive Dios!I should think so; it is my way of thinking to fancy that a man who has been all day long on horseback does not take another ride through the whole of the following night for mere pleasure, particularly in a country like this, which, dangerous enough by daylight, is doubly so when night has fallen. Moreover, I am inquisitive by nature—"
"You are a spy!" broke in Don Fernando, in a fury.
"Fie,caballero!What a strange expression you use! I a spy! No, no; only as the simplest way of learning what I wanted to know was to listen, I listened."
"Then you were present at the conversation on the Isle de los Pavos?"
"I will not deny it, caballero; indeed, I was very close to you."
"And heard everything that was said there?"
"To be sure; yes, very nearly all," replied Don Estevan, still smiling.
Don Fernando threw himself upon themajor-domo, but was stopped by him with a strength the former hardly expected to meet with.
Don Estevan continued, in the same placid tone in which he had hitherto spoken:
"¡Cuerpo de Cristo!you are my guest. Wait a little; we shall have time to finish this matter here, after, if it must be."
The Mexican, overwhelmed by these words, stepped back from him, crossed his arms, and, looking him full in the face, replied, "I will wait."
For some little time the two men stood thus face to face, looking at each other with the dogged resolution of two duellists who are watching an opportunity to close.
The eyes of Don Estevan, whose face was in other respects impassive, betrayed a sorrow which he could not dissemble.
Don Fernando, with folded arms, his head erect, his forehead frowning, and his lips livid with the fury that boiled within him, waited for the words that were to fall from Don Estevan's mouth, in order to decide whether he should attack him at once, or pretend to be satisfied with the excuses the latter would probably utter.
By degrees the darkness had become less palpable: the sky decked itself in iris colours, the horizon grew red, the sun, although not yet visible, gave tokens that it would not be long ere he rose, to replace with floods of dazzling light the pale rays of the few stars still visible in the profound blue of heaven.
A thousand pungent odours rose from the earth; and the morning breeze, passing over the foliage of the trees, made it tremble and murmur, while it twisted the mists hanging over the river into the most fantastic folds.
At length Don Estevan, to whom the pause was becoming as embarrassing as it was to the other, determined to break the silence.
"I will be frank with you,caballero," said he. "I heard everything that passed in your conversation with the Tigercat; not a word escaped me. This will show you that I know all, and am aware that Don Fernando Carril and Stoneheart are one and the same person."
"Yes," said the Mexican, bitterly, "I see you are an excellent spy. You have chosen a sorry trade,caballero."
"Who can tell? Perhaps, before we have finished our conversation, you may be of a different opinion, señor."
"I doubt it. But allow me to remark, that you have a singular mode of showing hospitality towards the guests God sends you."
"Let me explain first; then, after you have heard what I have to tell you, I shall be ready,caballero, to give you the satisfaction you demand—if you still insist on it."
"Speak, then; and let us finish this somehow or other," replied Don Fernando impatiently. "The sun has already risen; I hear them moving and talking in therancho;the people will soon make their appearance, and hinder, by their presence, any explanation between us."
"You are right; we must settle this; and as I have as little inclination to be interrupted as you, follow me. What I have to say is too long to be spoken here."
Don Fernando complied. They entered the corral, and saddled their horses.
"Now mount and be off," said Don Estevan, as he vaulted into the saddle; "there is plenty of room for talk in the desert."
The plan proposed was very acceptable to the Mexican, as it gave him freedom of action, and the means of hurling consummate vengeance at the head of themajor-domo, if the latter wished, as he fancied, to betray him.
It was a splendid morning: a dazzling sun showered down his hot rays in profusion over the country, making the stones glitter like diamonds; the birds warbled gaily among the leaves;vaquerosandpeonesbegan to disperse themselves in all directions, urging on to the pasturage the horses and cattle of thehacienda;the landscape increased in beauty every moment, and bore a smiling aspect, very different to the one it wore under the terrors of darkness.
The two men rode on for an hour, when they came to a half-ruined and uninhabitedrancho, which, covered with climbing plants, and almost hidden under their leaves and flowers, offered an excellent refuge from the heat; for, though the day was still young, the sultriness of the air was overpowering.
"Let us stop here," said Don Estevan, breaking silence for the first time since they left his home; "we shall scarcely find a fitter place."
"Stop, if it suits you," said Don Fernando, carelessly; "to me all places are alike, provided you give me the explanation I demand; only, let it be short and frank."
"Frank it shall be, I give you my honour; short I cannot say, for I have a long and sad tale to relate."
"To me? And for what purpose, pray? Must I hear it? Tell me only—"
"Most surely," said Don Estevan, as he dismounted, "what I have to say will touch you very nearly. You will shortly see the proof."
Don Fernando shrugged his shoulders, and alighted in his turn.
"You are mad,Dios me libre," (God forgive me), said he. "Since you overheard our conversation so clearly, you must know that I am a foreigner, and anything that occurs in this country can be but of slight importance to me."
"¿Quién sabe?" (Who can tell?) replied Don Estevan, sententiously, throwing himself on the floor of theranchowith great content.
Don Fernando followed his example, his curiosity beginning to get the better of him.
When the two men were comfortably stretched opposite each other, Don Estevan turned his face to the Mexican:
"I am going to talk of Doña Hermosa," said he of a sudden.
Surprised by these words, the Mexican blushed deeply. He tried in vain to conceal his emotion.
"Ah!" said he in a stifled voice, "Doña Hermosa! You mean the daughter of Don Luna?"
"The same. In a word, the very girl you saved a few days ago."
"Why recur to that event? Everyone else in my place would have done the same."
"It may be so. I do not wish to appear sceptical, but I think you are mistaken there. However, that is not our question. I say, you saved Doña Hermosa from a frightful death. At the first impulse, yielding to your feelings of pride, you left her abruptly, determined to return to the desert, never again to see the face of her who would have overwhelmed you with gratitude."
Don Fernando, astonished and galled at finding his feelings so well understood, briskly interrupted the speaker.
"To our business, if it so please you,caballero," he said sharply; "it is better to begin your explanation at once than launch out into suppositions which may be very ingenious, but have the one fault of being erroneous."
"Look, Don Fernando," replied the other, "you will try in vain to lead me on a false trail; so all denial is useless. You are young and handsome. Passing your life among savages, you are utterly ignorant of the great key to human passions. You could not see Doña Hermosa with impunity. As soon as you saw her, your heart trembled; new ideas developed themselves; and, forgetting all else, despising every other consideration, you have retained only one object, one desire,—that of seeing this girl, who appeared to you as a dream, and brought trouble into a heart so calm before. You have longed to see her, if only for a minute—for a second."
"You are right," cried Don Fernando, carried away by the force of truth; "I feel all you describe. I would joyfully give my life to see but a corner of herrebozo(veil). But why is it so? I seek in vain to understand it."
"It is what you would never understand if I did not come to your aid. A man brought up like you, beyond the pale of social considerations,—whose life as yet has only been one long strife with the imperious necessity of each day; who has never employed his physical powers except in the cares of the chase or the struggles of war,—your moral faculties lay dormant within you; you were ignorant of their power. Love brought about the transformation, the effects of which are now confounding you. You love Doña Hermosa."
"Do you think so?" said he simply. "Is this what is called love? In that case," he added, speaking more to himself than to Don Estevan, "its pains are cruel."
The latter looked at him with a mingling of pity and sorrow, and continued:
"I followed you last night because your actions seemed suspicious, and a vague fear led me to distrust you. Concealed in a bush only a yard or two from the spot where you were talking to the Tigercat, I overheard all you said. I changed my opinion of you; I recognised—forgive me if I speak frankly—that you were better than report would make you, and that it would be wrong to take you for such a man as the one you spoke to. The peremptory manner with which you repulsed his insinuations proved that you have a heart. Upon that I determined to support you in the strife for which you are preparing against this man, who has ever been your evil genius, and whose pernicious influence has so malignly brooded over your youth. These are the reasons why I have spoken thus; these the reasons why I brought you here for an explanation. Now, here is my hand; will you take it? It is that of a friend and brother."
Don Fernando rose, and eagerly seizing the hand so frankly held out to him, pressed it again and again.
"Thanks," said he; "thanks, and forgive me. Truly I am, as you say, a savage, taking offence at every trifle. I did not recognise your noble character."
"Do not say a word on that subject. Listen to me: I do not know whence my idea springs, but I suspect that the Tigercat is the implacable enemy of Don Pedro de Luna; his purpose is to make you the instrument of some devilish attempt upon the family at thehacienda."
"It is just what I thought myself," said Don Fernando. "The Tigercat's strange conduct during the time they were his guests, and the deception practised upon them, which would have been successful but for my intervention, roused my suspicions. You yourself heard last night the obloquy he heaped on me. Let him beware."
"Let us not be too precipitate," said Don Estevan; "we cannot be too prudent. On the contrary, let us leave the Tigercat to develop his schemes, that we may check them the more readily."
"That, perhaps, would be the better plan. He is going to San Lucar shortly: it will be easy to watch all his steps and counteract his projects. Although this man is subtle, and his cunning and knavery astute, I swear to God I will be no less wily than he."
"More so, as I shall be in the background to support you, and be at your side in the hour of need."
"It is Doña Hermosa who must be specially guarded."
"Alas, Don Estevan, how happy you will be in having it in your power to watch over her hourly."
"Nonsense, my friend; I hope to take you to her in the course of an hour or two."
"Can such a thing be possible?" cried Don Fernando, rapturously.
"Of course it can; particularly as you ought to be placed on a certain footing of intimacy with those at thehacienda, that we may the better mislead the Tigercat. Have you forgotten his sarcasms and insinuations apropos of the love he fancies you feel for the charming girl,—the love he boasts of having instigated himself, by throwing her into your way without your suspecting it?"
"True; the man has certainly some hideous project concerning her."
"Be not alarmed; with God's help, we will checkmate him. Now, two words more. Do you really believe this wretch to be your father? The question is one of more importance than you imagine."
Don Fernando became restless; his forehead clouded over with thought; he remained some time in profound meditation. At last he raised his hat and replied:
"I have often asked myself the question you have propounded without ever coming to a satisfactory conclusion. Nevertheless, I am almost certain he is not my father; I cannot be his son. His conduct towards me, the cruel care with which he inspired me with thoughts of evil, and developed in me all the bad instincts of nature,—prove to me that, if any relationship exists between us, it can only be a distant one. It is not to be imagined that a father could take absolute pleasure in thus perverting his own son. Nature revolts so utterly against such a proposition, that the mind cannot accept it. On the other hand, I have always felt for this man a secret repulsion and invincible dislike approaching to hatred. This repulsion increased instead of diminishing with time, a rapture became daily more imminent, and only a pretext was wanting to bring it about. This pretext has been unconsciously found by the Tigercat; and now I am hugging myself with joy at finding my freedom restored, and myself eased of the heavy burden of subjection which weighed me down so long."
"I am quite of your opinion; the man cannot be your father. We shall shortly find that we are right in our conviction; and this moral certainty will allow us to take any measures we please to counteract and foil his machinations."
"In what way do you intend to introduce me to Doña Hermosa, my friend?"
"I will tell you directly. But first I must relate a long and mournful tale, requisite for you to know in all its details, lest, in your intercourse with Don Pedro, you should unwittingly touch upon a wound still secretly bleeding in his heart. This dark and mysterious affair happened long ago. I was hardly born at the time of its occurrence; yet my mother has so often told me the details, that they present themselves to my memory as if I had been an actor in the terrible drama. Listen attentively, my good friend. Who knows whether God, who has inspired me with the wish to tell you the tale, may not have reserved for you the elucidation of its mysteries."
"Does this tale relate to Doña Hermosa?"
"Indirectly it does. Doña Hermosa was not born at the time, and her father did not inhabit thehacienda, which he purchased subsequently. At that time the family lived in retirement at a town in the Banda Oriental; for you must know that Don Pedro de Luna is not a Mexican, and the name by which you know him is not his; at least he has only adopted it, the name belonging to the original branch of his family in Mexico. He did not assume it till after the occurrence of the events I am about to relate, when he came to settle here, having bought Las Norias de San Antonio from his relations, who, established for many years in Mexico, only occasionally, and at long intervals, paid a visit of a few days to this distanthacienda.The people at San Lucar, and the other inhabitants of the province, knowing Don Pedro de Luna under no other name, imagined it was really that person who had chosen to retire to his estate. My master, when he came here, cared the less to disabuse them, as, when he bought thehacienda, he had stipulated with his relations for the right to bear their name. The latter naturally found nothing extraordinary in this; and now that, after a lapse of twenty years, Don Pedro, by the death of his relations, has become the head of the family, this borrowed name has become effectually his own, and none can dispute his right to bear it."
"You excite my curiosity to the utmost; and I wait with impatience for the beginning of your tale."
The two men seated themselves as comfortably as they could in therancho;and Don Estevan Diaz, without farther digression, commenced his long-deferred story. He spoke the whole day long, and when night fell was still speaking.
Don Fernando, his eyes eagerly fixed on the narrator, his heart palpitating, and his eyebrows compressed, listened with liveliest interest to the tale, the strange events of which, as they were unrolled before him, made him shudder with emotions of mingled rage and horror.
Taking Don Estevan's place, we will ourselves recount to the reader this mournful history.
In the year 1515 Juan Diaz de Solis discovered the Rio de la Plata,—a discovery which cost him his life.
According to Herrera, this river to which Solis had first given his own name, took the one it now bears from the fact that the first silver brought from America was shipped at this point for Spain.
In 1535 Don Pedro de Mendoza, appointedadelantado, or governor general, of the country between the Rio de la Plata and the Straits of Magellan, founded on the right bank of the river, opposite the mouth of the Uruguay, a town called at first Nuestra Señora de Buenos Aires; later, La Trinidad de Buenos Aires; and finally, Buenos Aires,—a name it has since retained.
The history of this town would be a curious study, full of interesting particulars, as from its earliest days it seems stamped with the seal of fatality.
One should read, in the narrative of Ulrich Schmidel, a German adventurer, and one of the original founders of Buenos Aires, to what depths of misery the wretched conquerors of the country were reduced: how they were constrained by famine to devour the dead bodies of their companions, who had been killed by the Corendian Indians, whom their exactions and cruelties had driven to exasperation; and who, believing the white men who had landed amongst them in such an extraordinary way to be evil genii, had sworn their extermination.
The destiny of this town is a singular one, condemned, as it has been, to an unceasing strife, sometimes with enemies from without, at others, with more formidable foes from within; and which, in spite of these ceaseless struggles, is still one of the richest and most flourishing cities of Spanish America.
Like all the towns founded by the Castilian adventurers in the New World, Buenos Aires is placed in a lovely situation. Its streets are broad, laid out by rule and line; the houses are well built, with a garden to each, thus affording a pleasant prospect. It contains many public buildings, among which we may name the Bazaar de la Recoba. At intervals vast squares occur, well furnished with magnificent shops, which give it an appearance of life and prosperity unhappily too rare in this unfortunate country, so long distracted by civil wars.
Taking an immense leap backwards, we will now introduce our readers to Buenos Aires at a time about twenty years previous to the period to which our story belongs. It is ten o'clock in the night of one of the last; days of September 1839,i.e.at the time the tyranny of that extraordinary man who, for twenty years, subjected the Argentine provinces to a yoke of iron, had reached its climax.
Nobody in these days could imagine the hideous tyranny which the Government of Rosas inflicted on this beautiful country, nor the frightful system of terrorism organized by the Dictator from one extremity to the other of the Banda Oriental.
Although it was only ten o'clock, as we said above, a deathlike silence hovered over the town. All the shops were shut, all the streets dark and deserted, save when, at long intervals, they were traversed by strong patrols, whose heavy footsteps resounded on the pavement; or by a few solitaryserenos(watchmen), who, in fear and trembling, shambled through their duty as guardians of the night.
The inhabitants, shut up in their dwellings, had timidly extinguished their lights, for fear of exciting the suspicions of a police ever ready to take offence, and had sought a temporary refuge in slumber from the evils of the day.
On this particular night Buenos Aires was more desolate-looking than usual. The wind had blown, in a storm from the Pampas during the whole of the day, and filled the atmosphere with an icy chill. Large vivid clouds, laden with electricity, were moving heavily through the sky; and the hoarse rumbling of distant thunder, and the nearer and nearer approaching flashes of lightning, gave warning that a fearful storm was on the point of breaking over the city.
Nearly in the centre of the Calle Santa Trinidad, one of the finest streets in the city, which it traverses almost from end to end, a feeble light, placed behind the muslin curtain of a window on the ground floor, twinkled, like a star in a dark sky, through the tufted branches of some trees planted in front of a noble mansion.
This light seemed to be a blot upon the universal obscurity; for every patrol that passed, everyserenowhom chance brought to the spot, could not refrain from pausing, and observing it with an expression of anger and ill-dissembled fear: after which they would resume their march, the soldiers growling, in a tone of ill humour boding no good:
"There is that traitor, Don Guzman de Ribera, hatching some new conspiracy against his Excellency the Dictator."
The others saying, in a tone of subdued pity:
"Don Guzman will go on till he gets himself arrested some day."
It is into this house, and into the room itself where the light is shining, which gave rise to so many surmises, that we will introduce our readers.
After having crossed the garden and cleared thezaguán, we find on our right hand a massive door of walnut, fastened simply by a latch, on lifting which we enter a large room, well lighted by three windows opening on the street.
The furniture of this apartment was of the greatest simplicity. The whitewashed walls were decorated with a few of those abominable coloured prints which the trade of Paris has exported into all regions of the globe, and which are supposed to represent the death of Poniatowski, the seasons, &c. The inevitable Soufleto's piano—which in all Spanish-American houses one sees thrust forward into the most conspicuous place, but which is happily beginning to be replaced by the Alexandre harmonium—a dozen chairs, a round table covered with a green cloth, two armchairs, and a clock with alabaster columns, on a pier table, completed the inventory.
In this room a man, dressed in a travelling costume, withponcho(cloak) andpolenas(boots), was striding up and down, casting impatient and restless looks at the clock every time he passed the table.
Sometimes he paused, lifted the curtain of a window, and tried to pierce the obscurity of night and see into the street; but in vain; the darkness was too great for him to distinguish objects. Sometimes he listened attentively, as if amongst the noises of the town the breeze had brought him the distant echo of a sound significant to him; then he resumed, with a gesture of ill humour and increasing agitation, the walk he had so often interrupted.
This man was Don Guzman de Ribera.
Belonging to one of the best families in the country, and descending in a direct line from the first conquerors, Don Guzman, when still very young, had served a rude apprenticeship in arms under his father. During the war of independence, as aide-de-camp to San Martin, he had followed that general when he crossed the Cordilleras at the head of his army, and revolutionised Chili and Peru.
Since that period he had served continually, sometimes under one chief, sometimes under another; always striving, to the best of his ability, to avoid ranging himself under a flag hostile to the true interests of his country—a difficult task amidst those perpetual convulsions caused by the petty ambition of men without real importance, who were contending for power amongst themselves. Nevertheless, thanks to his dexterity, and still more to the uprightness of his character, Don Guzman had managed to keep himself stainless: yet two years previously, suspected by Rosas, to whom his ideas of true liberality were odious, he had retired from the service, and settled himself at home.
Don Guzman, a true soldier in the most honourable acceptation of the word, although never ostensibly meddling with politics, was greatly dreaded by the Dictator, on account of the influence his loyal and resolute character gave him over his countrymen, who felt for him a sympathy so profound, and a devotedness so complete, that more than once General Rosas, a man of few scruples, had been forced to relinquish the idea of ridding himself, by exile or worse means, of a man whose seclusion and noble pride seemed to cast a shadow over the actions of the Dictator.
At the moment we bring him before our readers, Don Guzman had just reached his fortieth year; but notwithstanding the countless fatigues he had undergone, and which had only hardened him, age seemed to have taken no hold of his vigorous organism.
His tall and muscular figure was as upright, the expression of his face as full of calm intelligence, his eye as brilliant as ever. A few silver threads among his hair, and one or two wrinkles, written on his forehead more by thought than by time, were the only signs that he had already attained middle age.
The clock had struck half past ten some minutes ago, when several rude blows were struck on the door, making Don Guzman tremble.
He stopped and listened.
A lively altercation appeared to be taking place under thezaguánof the house. Unfortunately, the room being too far from the porch, Don Guzman could only hear a confused uproar, without being able to distinguish the sounds. But in a short time the noise ceased, the door of the room was opened, and a domestic entered. We must suppose him to be a confidential servant, judging by the manner in which his master spoke to him.
"Well, Diego, what is it? What is the meaning of all this noise at such an hour?"
The servant approached his master before he answered, and bowing, whispered in his ear: "Don Diego Pedrosa."
"He!" said the master, frowning. "Is he alone?"
"I do not think he has more than two or three soldiers with him."
"Which means," said Don Guzman, looking more and more gloomy—
"That he has another score or two concealed close at hand."
"What does the man want with me? It is hardly the hour for a visit. Don Bernardo is scarcely so intimate with me," he added, with a bitter smile, "that he would act with so little ceremony towards me without an urgent reason."
"Exactly what I did myself the honour to remark to him, your Excellency."
"And he persists?"
"Yes, Excellency. He tells me he has business of the utmost importance to communicate."
Don Guzman strode up and down with a pensive air.
"Listen, Diego," said he, at last; "see that the servants arm themselves quietly, and be ready at the first signal; but act prudently, so as to avoid suspicion."
"Trust me, Excellency," said the old servitor, with a smile of intelligence.
For thirty years Diego had been in the service of the Ribera family; many a time had he given his master proof of his boundless attachment.
"Ah, well," replied Don Guzman good humouredly; "I know pretty well what you can do."
"And the horses?" continued the servant.
"Let them stay where they are."
"Even if we are to be off directly?" said Diego, in amazement.