Chapter Fifty Two.A Danae’s Shower.“Now, I shouldn’t wonder,” continued the corporal, shifting upon his seat, and facing fully round to the dwarf. “I shouldn’t at all wonder but that this diminutive gentleman has some spare cash upon him; and maybe he’ll oblige us by a little loan, considering the occasion. What say you,Señor Enano?”“I haven’t any,” was the ready answer. “And sorry to say it too—that I am.”“It don’t look much like he has,” observed Perico, with a glance at the hunchback’s tattered habiliments.“Looks are not always to be relied on,” persisted the corporal. “Who’d ever suspect a pearl inside an ugly oyster-shell?”“I haven’t, indeed,Señor Cabo,” once more protested the dwarf with earnest emphasis. “If I had, you’d be welcome to the loan you speak of. No man likes a game ofmontébetter than myself. Alas! so far from being in funds, I’m too like your worships—without aclaco. I’ve been stripped of everything; and, if you knew my story, you’d pity me, I’m sure.”“What story?” demanded thecabo, becoming curious.“Why, that I’ve been robbed of all the money I had. It wasn’t much, to be sure, only twopesetasand areal, but still that was better than empty pockets. It happened about half an hour ago. I was on my way to San Augustin, thinking I’d there get some supper, with a night’s lodging; when not far from this, two men—footpads I suppose they were—rushed out from the roadside, and made straight at me. One took the right, the other left. But I’ve good long arms, as you see, pretty strong too; and so I was able to keep them off for a while. Several times they caught hold of my wrists; but I succeeded in jerking them free again. I believe I could have wrestled them both, but that one getting angry, pulled out a long-bladed knife, and threatened to cut my throat with it.Por dios! I had to surrender then, seeing he was in earnest.”While giving this somewhat prolix account of an altogether imaginary adventure, he had started to his feet, and accompanied his speech with a series of pantomimic gestures; dancing and flinging his arms about, as he professed to have done while defending himself against the footpads. The grotesqueness of the performance, though seen only in the dim light—for he kept under the shadow—set his listeners to laughing. Little dreamt they why he was treating them to the spectacle, or how cleverly he was outwitting them.But there was a third spectator of the scene, unknown to all of them, who was aware of it. Thecocherocould not at first tell what were the things striking him in the pit of the stomach, as if he was being pelted with pebbles! But he could see they came from the hands of the hunchback, flung behind in his repeated contortions and gesticulations.Moreover, that they glistened while passing through the air, and looked whitish where they lay, after falling at his own feet.“Well; what did they do to you then?” asked the corporal, when he and his comrade had finished their guffaw. “Stripped you clean, as you’ve said?”“Ay, Dios! Just that, Señor. Took everything I had, except the rags I wear; and to them I might well have made them welcome.”“Now, are you sure they took everything?” questioned the other, still suspicious. The earnestness of the dwarfs affirmation made him so.“Of course, Señor. Quite sure. I’ll swear to it, if you like.”“Oh, there’s no need for the formality of an oath. Simpler to search you! and more satisfactory. Draw up here in front of me!”The hunchback obeyed with an air of confident alacrity. He had no reluctance to being searched now, knowing his pockets were empty. Of which the searcher satisfied himself by groping about among the rags, and sounding every receptacle where coin might be kept.But if he found no money, an article turned up, which no little surprised himself and his comrade—a stiletto!“Caspita!” he exclaimed, as his hand touched something hard in the waistband of the dwarfs breeches, stuck behind his back. “What have we here? As I live, a dagger!” drawing it out and holding it to the light. “Silver-hilted, too! Yes; it’s silver, sure; and blade beautifully chased—worth adoblone, at the very least!”“Half mine,” interrupted Perico, putting in his claim.“All right,camardo. We’ll settle that by-and-by. Now, you limb of Satan!” he continued to the hunchback, “you told us the footpads had stripped you clean. How do you explain this?”“Easily enough, your worship. They only thought of trying in my pockets, and the stiletto being there behind where you’ve found it, luckily they overlooked it.”“Oh, indeed!” doubtingly rejoined the corporal; “and pray how did you become possessed of it,Señor Enano? A dagger worth adobloneisn’t a likely thing for such as you to be owner of—that is, in an honest way.”“I admit, your worship, it isn’t likely. For all, I came honestly by the article. It’s an heirloom in our family; belonged to my great-great-grandfather, and’s descended through several generations. For know, Señor, my ancestors were not deformed like poor me. Some of them were gallant soldiers, as yourself. Indeed, one of them rose to the rank of sergeant—that was my mother’s grandfather; but this dagger didn’t come down from him, being left in the main line.”“Well,” laughingly returned the corporal, after listening to the quaint chapter of explanations, “the future herald of our family won’t have to trace it beyond yourself. You’re now under our protection, and have no need to warlike weapons. So we, your protectors, will take the liberty of appropriating the historical toy. Get out the cards, Perico! Let us see whether it is to be yours or mine.”“May bueno!” responded Perico. “How will you have the game? A singlealbur, or two out of three?”“Well, as we’ve only the one stake, and no end of time for winning and losing it, we’d better make it the long game.”“All right—come on! I have the cards spread—sota y caballo. How sweet the Queen’s face looks in the moonlight! Ah! she’s smiling at me, I know, as good as to say—‘Worthy Perico, that silver-handled weapon, your corporal tells you is worth all of anonza, will ere long be thine.’”“Well, lay on the Queen if you like. I’ll go the Jack, with all his grinning. Now shuffle, and deal off.”By this the two had seated themselves,vis-à-vis, just outside the verge where met moonlight and shadow, a suite of cards turned face up between them, the dealing pack in the hands of Perico. The hunchback, on his knees, with neck craned out, was a spectator; but one whose thoughts were not with his eyes. Instead, dwelling upon the valuables he had so cunningly chucked back, making the mental calculation as to how much they might be damaged by breakage, but caring less for that than the danger of their also becoming stakes in that game ofmonté. Could he have known what was going on behind, he would possibly have preferred it so.The unseen spectator, though silent, was not inactive, but the reverse. From the moment of seeing himself shut up—as it were, in a pen—he had given all his thoughts to how he might escape out of it. It needed none to tell him there was no chance front-wards by the road. A rush he might make past the two soldiers, risking seizure, and surely having the bullets of their carbines sent after him. But even though he got off in that way, what would be the upshot? The hunchback would be certain to recognise him, remembering all. Knowing, too, that his dialogue with the Hussar colonel must have been overheard, he would hasten the very event which he, José, was now all anxious to provide against. The word of warning meant for those now so much needing it might reach them too late.All these thoughts had passed through thecochero’smind before the card-playing commenced. More, too, for he had carefully inspected the cliff overhead, so far as the light would allow, aided by groping. To his joy, he had discovered that there was a possibility of scaling it. A sharp pinnacle of rock was within reach of the swing of his halters; and skilled in the use of thelaso, over this he had succeeded in flinging the head-stall of one, hooking it fast. It but remained to swarm up the rope, and he was watching for an opportunity, when glittering golden things, like a Danae’s shower, came raining against his ribs, to fall at his feet.He saw no reason for these being left to lie there, but a good one against it; so, stooping cautiously forward, he gathered up all, stowing them away in his pockets. Then turning and taking hold of the halter, with as little noise as possible, he hoisted himself up to the crest of the cliff.The soldiers engrossed with their game, and the dwarf, though but a spectator, having also become interested in it—none of the three either saw or heard him. And the last he heard of them as he stole silently away was the corporal delightedly calling out—“Sota en la puerta, mozo! The dagger’s mine, darling Perico!”
“Now, I shouldn’t wonder,” continued the corporal, shifting upon his seat, and facing fully round to the dwarf. “I shouldn’t at all wonder but that this diminutive gentleman has some spare cash upon him; and maybe he’ll oblige us by a little loan, considering the occasion. What say you,Señor Enano?”
“I haven’t any,” was the ready answer. “And sorry to say it too—that I am.”
“It don’t look much like he has,” observed Perico, with a glance at the hunchback’s tattered habiliments.
“Looks are not always to be relied on,” persisted the corporal. “Who’d ever suspect a pearl inside an ugly oyster-shell?”
“I haven’t, indeed,Señor Cabo,” once more protested the dwarf with earnest emphasis. “If I had, you’d be welcome to the loan you speak of. No man likes a game ofmontébetter than myself. Alas! so far from being in funds, I’m too like your worships—without aclaco. I’ve been stripped of everything; and, if you knew my story, you’d pity me, I’m sure.”
“What story?” demanded thecabo, becoming curious.
“Why, that I’ve been robbed of all the money I had. It wasn’t much, to be sure, only twopesetasand areal, but still that was better than empty pockets. It happened about half an hour ago. I was on my way to San Augustin, thinking I’d there get some supper, with a night’s lodging; when not far from this, two men—footpads I suppose they were—rushed out from the roadside, and made straight at me. One took the right, the other left. But I’ve good long arms, as you see, pretty strong too; and so I was able to keep them off for a while. Several times they caught hold of my wrists; but I succeeded in jerking them free again. I believe I could have wrestled them both, but that one getting angry, pulled out a long-bladed knife, and threatened to cut my throat with it.Por dios! I had to surrender then, seeing he was in earnest.”
While giving this somewhat prolix account of an altogether imaginary adventure, he had started to his feet, and accompanied his speech with a series of pantomimic gestures; dancing and flinging his arms about, as he professed to have done while defending himself against the footpads. The grotesqueness of the performance, though seen only in the dim light—for he kept under the shadow—set his listeners to laughing. Little dreamt they why he was treating them to the spectacle, or how cleverly he was outwitting them.
But there was a third spectator of the scene, unknown to all of them, who was aware of it. Thecocherocould not at first tell what were the things striking him in the pit of the stomach, as if he was being pelted with pebbles! But he could see they came from the hands of the hunchback, flung behind in his repeated contortions and gesticulations.
Moreover, that they glistened while passing through the air, and looked whitish where they lay, after falling at his own feet.
“Well; what did they do to you then?” asked the corporal, when he and his comrade had finished their guffaw. “Stripped you clean, as you’ve said?”
“Ay, Dios! Just that, Señor. Took everything I had, except the rags I wear; and to them I might well have made them welcome.”
“Now, are you sure they took everything?” questioned the other, still suspicious. The earnestness of the dwarfs affirmation made him so.
“Of course, Señor. Quite sure. I’ll swear to it, if you like.”
“Oh, there’s no need for the formality of an oath. Simpler to search you! and more satisfactory. Draw up here in front of me!”
The hunchback obeyed with an air of confident alacrity. He had no reluctance to being searched now, knowing his pockets were empty. Of which the searcher satisfied himself by groping about among the rags, and sounding every receptacle where coin might be kept.
But if he found no money, an article turned up, which no little surprised himself and his comrade—a stiletto!
“Caspita!” he exclaimed, as his hand touched something hard in the waistband of the dwarfs breeches, stuck behind his back. “What have we here? As I live, a dagger!” drawing it out and holding it to the light. “Silver-hilted, too! Yes; it’s silver, sure; and blade beautifully chased—worth adoblone, at the very least!”
“Half mine,” interrupted Perico, putting in his claim.
“All right,camardo. We’ll settle that by-and-by. Now, you limb of Satan!” he continued to the hunchback, “you told us the footpads had stripped you clean. How do you explain this?”
“Easily enough, your worship. They only thought of trying in my pockets, and the stiletto being there behind where you’ve found it, luckily they overlooked it.”
“Oh, indeed!” doubtingly rejoined the corporal; “and pray how did you become possessed of it,Señor Enano? A dagger worth adobloneisn’t a likely thing for such as you to be owner of—that is, in an honest way.”
“I admit, your worship, it isn’t likely. For all, I came honestly by the article. It’s an heirloom in our family; belonged to my great-great-grandfather, and’s descended through several generations. For know, Señor, my ancestors were not deformed like poor me. Some of them were gallant soldiers, as yourself. Indeed, one of them rose to the rank of sergeant—that was my mother’s grandfather; but this dagger didn’t come down from him, being left in the main line.”
“Well,” laughingly returned the corporal, after listening to the quaint chapter of explanations, “the future herald of our family won’t have to trace it beyond yourself. You’re now under our protection, and have no need to warlike weapons. So we, your protectors, will take the liberty of appropriating the historical toy. Get out the cards, Perico! Let us see whether it is to be yours or mine.”
“May bueno!” responded Perico. “How will you have the game? A singlealbur, or two out of three?”
“Well, as we’ve only the one stake, and no end of time for winning and losing it, we’d better make it the long game.”
“All right—come on! I have the cards spread—sota y caballo. How sweet the Queen’s face looks in the moonlight! Ah! she’s smiling at me, I know, as good as to say—‘Worthy Perico, that silver-handled weapon, your corporal tells you is worth all of anonza, will ere long be thine.’”
“Well, lay on the Queen if you like. I’ll go the Jack, with all his grinning. Now shuffle, and deal off.”
By this the two had seated themselves,vis-à-vis, just outside the verge where met moonlight and shadow, a suite of cards turned face up between them, the dealing pack in the hands of Perico. The hunchback, on his knees, with neck craned out, was a spectator; but one whose thoughts were not with his eyes. Instead, dwelling upon the valuables he had so cunningly chucked back, making the mental calculation as to how much they might be damaged by breakage, but caring less for that than the danger of their also becoming stakes in that game ofmonté. Could he have known what was going on behind, he would possibly have preferred it so.
The unseen spectator, though silent, was not inactive, but the reverse. From the moment of seeing himself shut up—as it were, in a pen—he had given all his thoughts to how he might escape out of it. It needed none to tell him there was no chance front-wards by the road. A rush he might make past the two soldiers, risking seizure, and surely having the bullets of their carbines sent after him. But even though he got off in that way, what would be the upshot? The hunchback would be certain to recognise him, remembering all. Knowing, too, that his dialogue with the Hussar colonel must have been overheard, he would hasten the very event which he, José, was now all anxious to provide against. The word of warning meant for those now so much needing it might reach them too late.
All these thoughts had passed through thecochero’smind before the card-playing commenced. More, too, for he had carefully inspected the cliff overhead, so far as the light would allow, aided by groping. To his joy, he had discovered that there was a possibility of scaling it. A sharp pinnacle of rock was within reach of the swing of his halters; and skilled in the use of thelaso, over this he had succeeded in flinging the head-stall of one, hooking it fast. It but remained to swarm up the rope, and he was watching for an opportunity, when glittering golden things, like a Danae’s shower, came raining against his ribs, to fall at his feet.
He saw no reason for these being left to lie there, but a good one against it; so, stooping cautiously forward, he gathered up all, stowing them away in his pockets. Then turning and taking hold of the halter, with as little noise as possible, he hoisted himself up to the crest of the cliff.
The soldiers engrossed with their game, and the dwarf, though but a spectator, having also become interested in it—none of the three either saw or heard him. And the last he heard of them as he stole silently away was the corporal delightedly calling out—
“Sota en la puerta, mozo! The dagger’s mine, darling Perico!”
Chapter Fifty Three.A Series of Surprises.Thecocherohad but a confused idea of what he was carrying away with him. By the feel, watches, with chains and bracelets; besides some smaller articles wrapped in bits of paper. The uncertainty of his getting safe up the cliff hindered him from giving them even the most cursory examination, nor did he think of doing this till at sufficient distance from the card-playing party to feel sure he was beyond danger of pursuit. Then the temptation to have a look at the things, which had so strangely and unexpectedly come into his possession, became irresistible; and sitting down upon a ledge of rock, he drew them out into the light of the moon. Two watches were there, both gold, and one with a jewelled case.“Carrai!” he exclaimed, as his eyes fell upon the latter, and became fixed in a stare of blank amazement, “can it be! It is—the Condesa’s watch—the very one she would have given me! But how came the hunchback to have it? Surely he must have stolen it. The other, too, with all these things!”He looked at the second watch, but as it had never been in his hands before, he was unable to identify it. Still, it resembled one he had seen his mistress wearing, and most likely was the same.The bracelets, chains, necklets, and brooches would be theirs, too; as also the rings and other bijouterie, which the dwarf had found time to do up in paper.“Stolen them?” continued thecocherointerrogatively, as he ran his eyes over the varied assortment.“How could he? The watches he might, but the other things? Why bless me, here are two pairs of ear-rings—and these grand pendants—I’m sure I saw them in the ears of the Condesa this very day. He couldn’t have taken them without her knowing it.Santo Dios! How ever has he come by them?”As he thus questioned and reflected, a feeling of apprehension began to creep over him. A little before leaving the house to go after his horses he had observed his young mistress and the Condesa going into the ornamental grounds. And they went alone; Don Ignacio having repaired to a private apartment, where he was accustomed to shut himself up for the examination of State papers, what if the ladieswerestill in the grounds, in some secluded spot, lying dead, where all these adornments had been stripped from their persons!This horrible tableau did the faithful servant in imagination conjure up. He could not help it. Nor was the thing so very improbable. He had some earlier acquaintance with the desperate character of the dwarf, which later experience confirmed. Besides, there was the state of the country—thieves and robbers all round—men who made light of murder!With a heaviness of heart—a painful fear that there had been murder—he stayed not to further examine the trinkets; but gathering all up again, and thrusting them back into his pocket, hurried on home.And when home he went not to his own quarters in the coachyard, but straight into thepatio—the private court of the house. There he encountered Pepita; soon as he set eyes on her, asking—“Where are theSeñoritas?”“What’s that to you?” saucily retorted the maid.“Nothing, if I only knew they were safe.”“Safe! Why what’s the man thinking—talking about? Have you lost your senses,hombre?”“No, Pepita. But the ladies have lost something. Look here!”He had plunged both his hands into his pockets, and drawn them out again full of things that scintillated in the moonlight—watches and jewellery of different kinds, as she saw. With a woman’s curiosity, gliding swiftly forward to examine them, she recognised every article at a glance, amazement overspreading her countenance, as it lately had his.“Ay de mi!” she exclaimed, no longer in jesting tone. “What does it all mean, José?”“Just what I want to know myself, and why I am asking after the Señoritas. But where are they?”“In the garden, or the grounds somewhere. They strolled out about an hour ago, and haven’t been in since.”“Pray God, they’re still alive! Come with me, Pepita. Let us look for them. I have terrible fears.”So appealed to, the girl gave ready assent; and side by side they hastened towards the rear of the house, behind which were the ornamental grounds extending backwards. But they had not far to go before hearing sounds that set their minds at rest, removing all anxiety—the voices of the ladies themselves. They were not only alive, but laughing!To José and Pepita this seemed strange as anything else—a perfect mystery. Merry after parting with all those pretty things; costly, too—worth hundreds ofdoblones! Withal, they were so; their lightness of heart due to the knowledge thus gained, that their own lovers were still living and safe; and something of merriment, added by that odd encounter with theenano, of which they were yet conversing.If their behaviour mystified their servants, not less were they themselves puzzled when José presented himself before them with hands held out, saying:“I ask your pardon for intruding, but don’t these belong to your ladyships?”They saw their watches and other effects obtained from them by “false pretences,” as they were now to learn.The revelation that succeeded put an end to their joyous humour; their hearts that had been light for a moment were now becoming heavier than ever. The treachery of the hunchback and his intentions were manifest. He meant to guide Santander and his soldiers to the old monastery, where they would take thepatriotasby surprise.“What is to be done, Ysabel?” despairingly asked the Donna Luisa. “How can we give them warning?”To which thecochero, not the Countess, made answer, saying:“I can do that,Señorita.”His confident tone reassured them; more still his making known the design he had already conceived, and his ability to execute it. He was acquainted with the old convent and the paths leading to it—every inch of them.It needed not their united appeal to urge him to immediate departure. He was off the instant after, and long before the clock of Talpam had struck the midnight hour, well up the mountain road, with eyes looking to the right, in the direction of the Cerro Ajusco.
Thecocherohad but a confused idea of what he was carrying away with him. By the feel, watches, with chains and bracelets; besides some smaller articles wrapped in bits of paper. The uncertainty of his getting safe up the cliff hindered him from giving them even the most cursory examination, nor did he think of doing this till at sufficient distance from the card-playing party to feel sure he was beyond danger of pursuit. Then the temptation to have a look at the things, which had so strangely and unexpectedly come into his possession, became irresistible; and sitting down upon a ledge of rock, he drew them out into the light of the moon. Two watches were there, both gold, and one with a jewelled case.
“Carrai!” he exclaimed, as his eyes fell upon the latter, and became fixed in a stare of blank amazement, “can it be! It is—the Condesa’s watch—the very one she would have given me! But how came the hunchback to have it? Surely he must have stolen it. The other, too, with all these things!”
He looked at the second watch, but as it had never been in his hands before, he was unable to identify it. Still, it resembled one he had seen his mistress wearing, and most likely was the same.
The bracelets, chains, necklets, and brooches would be theirs, too; as also the rings and other bijouterie, which the dwarf had found time to do up in paper.
“Stolen them?” continued thecocherointerrogatively, as he ran his eyes over the varied assortment.
“How could he? The watches he might, but the other things? Why bless me, here are two pairs of ear-rings—and these grand pendants—I’m sure I saw them in the ears of the Condesa this very day. He couldn’t have taken them without her knowing it.Santo Dios! How ever has he come by them?”
As he thus questioned and reflected, a feeling of apprehension began to creep over him. A little before leaving the house to go after his horses he had observed his young mistress and the Condesa going into the ornamental grounds. And they went alone; Don Ignacio having repaired to a private apartment, where he was accustomed to shut himself up for the examination of State papers, what if the ladieswerestill in the grounds, in some secluded spot, lying dead, where all these adornments had been stripped from their persons!
This horrible tableau did the faithful servant in imagination conjure up. He could not help it. Nor was the thing so very improbable. He had some earlier acquaintance with the desperate character of the dwarf, which later experience confirmed. Besides, there was the state of the country—thieves and robbers all round—men who made light of murder!
With a heaviness of heart—a painful fear that there had been murder—he stayed not to further examine the trinkets; but gathering all up again, and thrusting them back into his pocket, hurried on home.
And when home he went not to his own quarters in the coachyard, but straight into thepatio—the private court of the house. There he encountered Pepita; soon as he set eyes on her, asking—
“Where are theSeñoritas?”
“What’s that to you?” saucily retorted the maid.
“Nothing, if I only knew they were safe.”
“Safe! Why what’s the man thinking—talking about? Have you lost your senses,hombre?”
“No, Pepita. But the ladies have lost something. Look here!”
He had plunged both his hands into his pockets, and drawn them out again full of things that scintillated in the moonlight—watches and jewellery of different kinds, as she saw. With a woman’s curiosity, gliding swiftly forward to examine them, she recognised every article at a glance, amazement overspreading her countenance, as it lately had his.
“Ay de mi!” she exclaimed, no longer in jesting tone. “What does it all mean, José?”
“Just what I want to know myself, and why I am asking after the Señoritas. But where are they?”
“In the garden, or the grounds somewhere. They strolled out about an hour ago, and haven’t been in since.”
“Pray God, they’re still alive! Come with me, Pepita. Let us look for them. I have terrible fears.”
So appealed to, the girl gave ready assent; and side by side they hastened towards the rear of the house, behind which were the ornamental grounds extending backwards. But they had not far to go before hearing sounds that set their minds at rest, removing all anxiety—the voices of the ladies themselves. They were not only alive, but laughing!
To José and Pepita this seemed strange as anything else—a perfect mystery. Merry after parting with all those pretty things; costly, too—worth hundreds ofdoblones! Withal, they were so; their lightness of heart due to the knowledge thus gained, that their own lovers were still living and safe; and something of merriment, added by that odd encounter with theenano, of which they were yet conversing.
If their behaviour mystified their servants, not less were they themselves puzzled when José presented himself before them with hands held out, saying:
“I ask your pardon for intruding, but don’t these belong to your ladyships?”
They saw their watches and other effects obtained from them by “false pretences,” as they were now to learn.
The revelation that succeeded put an end to their joyous humour; their hearts that had been light for a moment were now becoming heavier than ever. The treachery of the hunchback and his intentions were manifest. He meant to guide Santander and his soldiers to the old monastery, where they would take thepatriotasby surprise.
“What is to be done, Ysabel?” despairingly asked the Donna Luisa. “How can we give them warning?”
To which thecochero, not the Countess, made answer, saying:
“I can do that,Señorita.”
His confident tone reassured them; more still his making known the design he had already conceived, and his ability to execute it. He was acquainted with the old convent and the paths leading to it—every inch of them.
It needed not their united appeal to urge him to immediate departure. He was off the instant after, and long before the clock of Talpam had struck the midnight hour, well up the mountain road, with eyes looking to the right, in the direction of the Cerro Ajusco.
Chapter Fifty Four.Monks no More.The surmise which had influenced Zorillo to leaving the convent cell earlier than he intended was a correct one. The goings on in the Refectory were, at the time, of an unusual kind—a grand occasion, as he had worded it. There were some fifty men in it; but not one of them now effecting either the garb or the behaviour of the monk. Soldiers all; or at least in warlike guise; a few wearing regular though undress uniforms, but the majority habited as “guerilleros,” in the picturesque costumes of their country. They were booted, and belted, swords by their sides, with pistols in holsters hanging against the walls, and spurs ready for buckling on. Standing in corners were stacks of carbines, and lances freshly pennoned, with their blades bright from being recently sharpened—a panoply which spoke of fighting ere long expected to take place.It may be asked where were their horses, since all the arms and accoutrements seen around were those of cavalry? But horses they had, though not there. Each knew where to lay hands on his own, far or near, stalled in the stable of some sequesteredrancho, or, it might be, mountain cavern. They were not yet assembled to hearken to the call of “Boot and Saddle.” That they would hear at a later hour, and in a different place.The occasion of their being in such guise and together was because it was to be the last night of their sojourn in the monastery. And they were making it a merry one; the Refectory table was being loaded with the best that was left to them in meals and drinks. Upon it were what bottles remained of those famous wines from the bins of the richhaciendado—his forced contribution—and they were fast getting emptied. From the way theconviveswere quaffing, it was not likely that any of the Burgundy, Madeira, or Pedro Ximenes would be left behind—not even a “heel-tap.”It had got to be midnight, and they were still in the midst of the revelry, when Rivas, who headed the table, rose to his feet, in that formal manner which tells of speech to be made or toast proclaimed.“Camaradas!” he said, as soon as the buzz of conversation had ended, “as you’re aware, we part from this place to-night; and some of you know whither we are going and for what purpose. But not all; therefore I deem it my duty to tell you. You saw a courier who came up early this morning—bringing good news, I’m glad to say. This despatch I hold in my hand is from an old friend, General Alvarez, who, though he may not boastsangre-azulin his veins, is as brave a soldier and pure a patriot as any in the land. You know that. He tells me hisPintosare ready for a rising, and only wait for us—the ‘Free Lances’—with some others he has summoned to join him in giving thegrito. By his messenger I have sent answer that we, too, are ready, and will respond to his summons. You all approve of that, I take it?”“All!” was the exclaim in chorus, without a dissenting voice.“Moreover,” proceeded the speaker, “I’ve told the General we’ll be on the march to-morrow morning, and can meet him at a place he has mentioned the day after. His plan is to attack the town of Oaxaca; and, if we succeed in taking it, then we move direct on the capital. Nowcamarados, I’ve nothing more to say; only that you’re to scatter after your horses, and lose no time in mustering again—the old rendezvous, this side La Guarda.”So ended the speech of the Free Lances’ leader; but despite the suggestions of immediate departure, the circle around the table did not instantly break up.The bottles were not all empty as yet, nor the revellers satisfied to leave them till they should be so. Besides, there was no particular need of haste for another hour or two. So they stuck to the table, smoking, drinking, and toasting many things, as persons, among the latter their lately joined allies—theIrlandesandTejano, about whose proved valour on other fields, of which they had heard, the Free Lances were enthusiastically eloquent.Kearney, speaking in their own tongue, made appropriate response; while Rock, when told he had been toasted, delivered himself in characteristic strain, saying:—“Feller-citizens,—For since I tuk up yur cause, I reck’n you’ll gi’e me leave to call ye so—it air a glad thing to this chile to think he’ll soon hev a bit o’ fightin’. An’ ’specially as it’s to be agin ole Santy, the durned skunk. By the jumpin’ Geehosofat! if Cris Rock iver gits longside him agin, as he war on’t San Jacinty, there wan’t be no more meercy for the cussed tyrant, same as, like a set of fools, we Texans showed him thar an’ then. Tell them what I sayed, Cap.”With which abrupt wind-up he dropped back upon his seat, gulping down a tumblerful of best Madeira, as though it were table-beer.Kearney did tell them, translating his comrade’s speech faithfully as thepatoiswould permit; which heightened their enthusiasm, many of them starting to their feet, rushing round the table, and, Mexican fashion, enfolding theTejanoin friendly embrace.The hugging at an end, there was yet another toast to follow, the same which always wound up the festivals of the “Free Lances,” whatever the occasion. Their leader, as often before, now again pronounced it—“Patria y Libertad”.And never before did it have more enthusiastic reception, the cheer that rang through the old convent, louder than any laughter of monks who may have ever made it their home.Ere it had ceased reverberating, the door of the Refectory was suddenly pushed open, and a man rushed into the room, as he entered, crying out—“Traicion!”“Treason!” echoed fifty voices as one, all again starting to their feet, and turning faces towards the alarmist. The major-domo it was, who, as the othermozos, was half equipped for a journey.“What mean you, Gregorio?” demanded his master.“There’s one can tell you better than I, Don Ruperto.”“Who? Where is he?”“Outside, Señor. A messenger who has just come up—he’s from San Augustin.”“But how has he passed our sentry.”“Ah!capitano; I’d rather he told you himself.”Mysterious speech on the part of the major-domo, which heightened the apprehension of those hearing it. “Call him hither!” commanded Rivas.No calling was needed; the person spoken of being in the environ close by; and Gregorio, again opening the door, drew him inside.“Thecochero!” mentally exclaimed Rivas, Kearney, and the Texan, soon as setting eyes on him.Thecocheroit was, José, though they knew not his name, nor anything more of him than what they had learned in that note of the Condesa’s, saying that he could be trusted, and their brief association with him afterwards—which gave them proof that he could.As he presented himself inside the room he seemed panting for breath, and really was. He had only just arrived up the steep climb, and exchanged hardly half a dozen words with the major-domo, who had met him at the outside entrance.Announced as a messenger, neither the Captain of the Free Lances nor Florence Kearney needed telling who sent him. A sweet intuition told them that. Rivas but asked—“How have you found the way up here?”“Por Dios! Señor, I’ve been here before—many’s the time. I was born among these mountains—am well acquainted with all the paths everywhere around.”“But the sentry below. How did you get past him? You haven’t the countersign!”“He wouldn’t have heard it if I had, Señor.Pobre! he’ll never hear countersign again—nor anything else.”“Why? Explain yourself!”“Esta muerto! He lies at the bottom of the cliff, his body crushed—”“Who has done it? Who’s betrayed us?” interrupted a volley of voices.“The hunchback, Zorillo,” answered José, to the astonishment of all. For in the dialogue between the dwarf and Santander, he had heard enough to anticipate the ghastly spectacle awaiting him on his way up the mountain.Cries of anger and vengeance were simultaneously sent up; all showing eager to rush from the room. They but waited for a word more.Rivas, however, suspecting that the messenger meant that word for himself, claimed their indulgence, and led him outside, inviting Kearney to accompany them.Though covering much ground, and relating to many incidents, thecochero’sstory was quickly told. Not in the exact order of occurrence, but as questioned by his impatient listeners. He ran rapidly over all that happened since their parting at the corner of the Coyoacan road, the latter events most interesting them. Surprised were they to hear that Don Ignacio and his daughter for some time had been staying at San Augustin—the Condesa with them. Had they but known that before, in all probability things would not have been as now. Possibly they might have been worse; though, even as they stood, there was enough danger impending over all. As for themselves, both Mexican and Irishman, less recked of it, as they thought of how they were being warned, and by whom. That of itself was recompense for all their perils.Meanwhile those left inside the room were chafing to learn the particulars of the treason, though they were not all there now. Some had sallied out, and gone down the cliff to bring up the body of their murdered comrade; others, the major-domo conducting, back to the place where the hunchback should be, but was not. There to find confirmation of what had been said. The cell untenanted; the window bar filed through and broken; the file lying by it, and the chain hanging down outside.Intelligible to them now was the tale of treason, without their hearing it told.When once more they assembled in the Refectory, it was with chastened, saddened hearts. For they had come from digging a grave, and lowering into it a corpse. Again gathered around the table,theydrank the stirrup-cup, as was their wont, but never so joylessly, or with such stint.
The surmise which had influenced Zorillo to leaving the convent cell earlier than he intended was a correct one. The goings on in the Refectory were, at the time, of an unusual kind—a grand occasion, as he had worded it. There were some fifty men in it; but not one of them now effecting either the garb or the behaviour of the monk. Soldiers all; or at least in warlike guise; a few wearing regular though undress uniforms, but the majority habited as “guerilleros,” in the picturesque costumes of their country. They were booted, and belted, swords by their sides, with pistols in holsters hanging against the walls, and spurs ready for buckling on. Standing in corners were stacks of carbines, and lances freshly pennoned, with their blades bright from being recently sharpened—a panoply which spoke of fighting ere long expected to take place.
It may be asked where were their horses, since all the arms and accoutrements seen around were those of cavalry? But horses they had, though not there. Each knew where to lay hands on his own, far or near, stalled in the stable of some sequesteredrancho, or, it might be, mountain cavern. They were not yet assembled to hearken to the call of “Boot and Saddle.” That they would hear at a later hour, and in a different place.
The occasion of their being in such guise and together was because it was to be the last night of their sojourn in the monastery. And they were making it a merry one; the Refectory table was being loaded with the best that was left to them in meals and drinks. Upon it were what bottles remained of those famous wines from the bins of the richhaciendado—his forced contribution—and they were fast getting emptied. From the way theconviveswere quaffing, it was not likely that any of the Burgundy, Madeira, or Pedro Ximenes would be left behind—not even a “heel-tap.”
It had got to be midnight, and they were still in the midst of the revelry, when Rivas, who headed the table, rose to his feet, in that formal manner which tells of speech to be made or toast proclaimed.
“Camaradas!” he said, as soon as the buzz of conversation had ended, “as you’re aware, we part from this place to-night; and some of you know whither we are going and for what purpose. But not all; therefore I deem it my duty to tell you. You saw a courier who came up early this morning—bringing good news, I’m glad to say. This despatch I hold in my hand is from an old friend, General Alvarez, who, though he may not boastsangre-azulin his veins, is as brave a soldier and pure a patriot as any in the land. You know that. He tells me hisPintosare ready for a rising, and only wait for us—the ‘Free Lances’—with some others he has summoned to join him in giving thegrito. By his messenger I have sent answer that we, too, are ready, and will respond to his summons. You all approve of that, I take it?”
“All!” was the exclaim in chorus, without a dissenting voice.
“Moreover,” proceeded the speaker, “I’ve told the General we’ll be on the march to-morrow morning, and can meet him at a place he has mentioned the day after. His plan is to attack the town of Oaxaca; and, if we succeed in taking it, then we move direct on the capital. Nowcamarados, I’ve nothing more to say; only that you’re to scatter after your horses, and lose no time in mustering again—the old rendezvous, this side La Guarda.”
So ended the speech of the Free Lances’ leader; but despite the suggestions of immediate departure, the circle around the table did not instantly break up.
The bottles were not all empty as yet, nor the revellers satisfied to leave them till they should be so. Besides, there was no particular need of haste for another hour or two. So they stuck to the table, smoking, drinking, and toasting many things, as persons, among the latter their lately joined allies—theIrlandesandTejano, about whose proved valour on other fields, of which they had heard, the Free Lances were enthusiastically eloquent.
Kearney, speaking in their own tongue, made appropriate response; while Rock, when told he had been toasted, delivered himself in characteristic strain, saying:—
“Feller-citizens,—For since I tuk up yur cause, I reck’n you’ll gi’e me leave to call ye so—it air a glad thing to this chile to think he’ll soon hev a bit o’ fightin’. An’ ’specially as it’s to be agin ole Santy, the durned skunk. By the jumpin’ Geehosofat! if Cris Rock iver gits longside him agin, as he war on’t San Jacinty, there wan’t be no more meercy for the cussed tyrant, same as, like a set of fools, we Texans showed him thar an’ then. Tell them what I sayed, Cap.”
With which abrupt wind-up he dropped back upon his seat, gulping down a tumblerful of best Madeira, as though it were table-beer.
Kearney did tell them, translating his comrade’s speech faithfully as thepatoiswould permit; which heightened their enthusiasm, many of them starting to their feet, rushing round the table, and, Mexican fashion, enfolding theTejanoin friendly embrace.
The hugging at an end, there was yet another toast to follow, the same which always wound up the festivals of the “Free Lances,” whatever the occasion. Their leader, as often before, now again pronounced it—
“Patria y Libertad”.
And never before did it have more enthusiastic reception, the cheer that rang through the old convent, louder than any laughter of monks who may have ever made it their home.
Ere it had ceased reverberating, the door of the Refectory was suddenly pushed open, and a man rushed into the room, as he entered, crying out—
“Traicion!”
“Treason!” echoed fifty voices as one, all again starting to their feet, and turning faces towards the alarmist. The major-domo it was, who, as the othermozos, was half equipped for a journey.
“What mean you, Gregorio?” demanded his master.
“There’s one can tell you better than I, Don Ruperto.”
“Who? Where is he?”
“Outside, Señor. A messenger who has just come up—he’s from San Augustin.”
“But how has he passed our sentry.”
“Ah!capitano; I’d rather he told you himself.”
Mysterious speech on the part of the major-domo, which heightened the apprehension of those hearing it. “Call him hither!” commanded Rivas.
No calling was needed; the person spoken of being in the environ close by; and Gregorio, again opening the door, drew him inside.
“Thecochero!” mentally exclaimed Rivas, Kearney, and the Texan, soon as setting eyes on him.
Thecocheroit was, José, though they knew not his name, nor anything more of him than what they had learned in that note of the Condesa’s, saying that he could be trusted, and their brief association with him afterwards—which gave them proof that he could.
As he presented himself inside the room he seemed panting for breath, and really was. He had only just arrived up the steep climb, and exchanged hardly half a dozen words with the major-domo, who had met him at the outside entrance.
Announced as a messenger, neither the Captain of the Free Lances nor Florence Kearney needed telling who sent him. A sweet intuition told them that. Rivas but asked—
“How have you found the way up here?”
“Por Dios! Señor, I’ve been here before—many’s the time. I was born among these mountains—am well acquainted with all the paths everywhere around.”
“But the sentry below. How did you get past him? You haven’t the countersign!”
“He wouldn’t have heard it if I had, Señor.Pobre! he’ll never hear countersign again—nor anything else.”
“Why? Explain yourself!”
“Esta muerto! He lies at the bottom of the cliff, his body crushed—”
“Who has done it? Who’s betrayed us?” interrupted a volley of voices.
“The hunchback, Zorillo,” answered José, to the astonishment of all. For in the dialogue between the dwarf and Santander, he had heard enough to anticipate the ghastly spectacle awaiting him on his way up the mountain.
Cries of anger and vengeance were simultaneously sent up; all showing eager to rush from the room. They but waited for a word more.
Rivas, however, suspecting that the messenger meant that word for himself, claimed their indulgence, and led him outside, inviting Kearney to accompany them.
Though covering much ground, and relating to many incidents, thecochero’sstory was quickly told. Not in the exact order of occurrence, but as questioned by his impatient listeners. He ran rapidly over all that happened since their parting at the corner of the Coyoacan road, the latter events most interesting them. Surprised were they to hear that Don Ignacio and his daughter for some time had been staying at San Augustin—the Condesa with them. Had they but known that before, in all probability things would not have been as now. Possibly they might have been worse; though, even as they stood, there was enough danger impending over all. As for themselves, both Mexican and Irishman, less recked of it, as they thought of how they were being warned, and by whom. That of itself was recompense for all their perils.
Meanwhile those left inside the room were chafing to learn the particulars of the treason, though they were not all there now. Some had sallied out, and gone down the cliff to bring up the body of their murdered comrade; others, the major-domo conducting, back to the place where the hunchback should be, but was not. There to find confirmation of what had been said. The cell untenanted; the window bar filed through and broken; the file lying by it, and the chain hanging down outside.
Intelligible to them now was the tale of treason, without their hearing it told.
When once more they assembled in the Refectory, it was with chastened, saddened hearts. For they had come from digging a grave, and lowering into it a corpse. Again gathered around the table,theydrank the stirrup-cup, as was their wont, but never so joylessly, or with such stint.
Chapter Fifty Five.“Only empty Bottles.”About the time the Free Lances were burying their comrade in the cemetery of the convent the gate of San Antonio de Abad was opened to permit the passage of a squadron of Hussars going outward from the city. There were nigh 200 of them, in formation “by fours”—the wide causeway allowing ample room for even ten abreast.At their head rode Colonel Santander, with Major Ramirez by his side, other officers in their places distributed along the line.Soon as they had cleared thegarita, a word to the bugler, with a note or two from his trumpet quick succeeding, set them into a gallop; the white dusty road and clear moonlight making the fastest pace easily attainable. And he who commanded was in haste, his destination being that old monastery, of which he had only lately heard, but enough to make him most eager to reach it before morning. His hopes were high; at last he was likely to make acoup—that capture so much desired, so long delayed!For nearly an hour bridles were let loose, and spurs repeatedly plied. On along thecalzadaswept the squadron, over the bridge Churubusco, and past thehaciendaof San Antonio de Abad, which gives its name to the city gate on that side. Thenceforward the Pedregal impinges on the road, and the Hussars still going at a gallop along its edge, another bugle-call brought them to a halt.That, however, had naught to do with their halting, which came from their commander having reached the spot where he had left the hunchback in charge of the two soldiers.He need not hail them to assure himself they were still there. The trampling of horses on the hard causeway, heard afar off, had long ago forewarned the corporal of what was coming; and he was out on the road to receive them, standing in an attitude of attention.The parley was brief, and quick the action which accompanied it.“Into your saddle,cabo!” commanded the colonel. “Take that curiosity up behind you, and bring it along.”In an instant the corporal was mounted, the “curiosity” hoisted up to his croup by Perico, who then sprang to the back of his own horse. Once more the bugle gave tongue, and away they went again.The cavalcade made no stop in San Augustin. There was no object for halting it there, and delay was the thing its commander most desired to avoid. As they went clattering through thepueblo, its people were a-bed, seemingly asleep. But not all. Two at least were awake, and heard that unusual noise—listened to it with a trembling in their frames and fear in their hearts. Two ladies they were, inside a house beyond the village, on the road running south. Too well they knew what it meant, and whither the galloping cohort was bound. And themselves unseen, they saw who was at the head; though they needed not seeing him to know. But peering through thejalousies, the moonlight revealed to them the face of Don Carlos Santander, in the glimpse they got of it, showing spitefully triumphant.He could not see them, though his eyes interrogated the windows while he was riding past. They had taken care to extinguish the light in their room.“Virgin Santissima! Mother of God!” exclaimed one of the ladies, Luisa Valverde, as she dropped on her knees in prayer, “Send that they’ve got safe off ere this!”“Make your mind easy,amiga!” counselled the Condesa Almonté in less precatory tone. “I’m good as sure they have. José cannot fail to have reached and given them warning. That will be enough.”A mile or so beyond San Augustin the southern road becomes too steep for horses to go at a gallop, without risk of breaking their wind. So there the Hussars had to change to a slower pace—a walk in fact. There were other reasons for coming to this. The sound of their hoof-strokes ascending would be heard far up the mountain, might reach the ears of those in the monastery, and so thwart the surprise intended for them.While toiling more leisurely up the steep, any one chancing to look in the hunchback’s face would there have observed an expression indescribable. Sadness pervaded it, with an air of perplexity, as though he had met with some misfortune he could not quite comprehend.And so had he. Before leaving the spot where the stiletto was taken from him, he had sought an opportunity to step back into that shady niche in the cliff where he had lost his treasures. Themontéplayers, unsuspicious of his object, made no objection. But instead of there finding what he had expected, he saw only a pair of horse-halters: one lying coiled upon the ground, the head-stall of the other caught over the rock above, the rope end dangling down!An inexplicable phenomenon, which, however, he had kept to himself, and ever since been cudgelling his brains to account for.But soon after he had something else to think of: the time having arrived when he was called upon to give proof of his capability as a guide. Heretofore it had been all plain road riding; but now they had reached a point spoken of by himself where thecalzadamust be forsaken. The horses, too, left behind; everything but their weapons; the path beyond being barely practicable for men afoot.Dismounting all, at a command—this time not given by the bugle—and leaving a sufficient detail to look after the animals, they commenced the ascent, their guide, seemingly more quadruped than biped, in the lead. Strung out in single file—no other formation being possible—as they wound their way up the zig-zag with the moonlight here and there, giving back the glint of their armour, it was as some great serpent—a monster of the antediluvian ages—crawling towards its prey. Silently as serpent too; not a word spoken, nor exclamation uttered along their line. For, although it might be another hour before they could reach their destination, less than a second would suffice for their voices to get there, even though but muttered.One spot their guide passed with something like a shudder. It was where he had appropriated the dagger taken from a dead body. His shuddering was not due to that, but to fear from a far different cause. The body was no longer there. Those who dwelt above must have been down and borne it away. They would now be on the alert, and at any moment he might hear the cracking of carbines—a volley; perhaps feel the avenging bullet. What if they should roll rocks down and crush him and the party behind? In any case there could be no surprisal now; and he would gladly have seen those he was guiding give up the thought of it and turn back. Santander was himself irresolute, and would willingly have done so. But Ramirez, a man of more mettle, at the point of his sword commanded the hunchback to keep on, and the cowardly colonel dare not revoke the order without eternally disgracing himself.They had no danger to encounter, though they knew not that. Neither vidette nor sentinel was stationed there now; and, without challenge or obstruction, they reached the platform on which the building stood, the soldiers taking to right and left till they swarmed around it as bees. But they found no honey inside their hive.There was a summons to surrender, which received no response. Repeated louder, and a carbine fired, the result was the same. Silence inside, there could be no one within.Nor was there. When the Hussar colonel, with a dozen of his men, at length screwed up courage to make a burst into the doorway, and on to the Refectory, they saw but the evidence of late occupancy in the fragments of a supper, with some dozens of wine bottles “down among the dead men,” empty as the building itself.Disappointed as were the soldiers at finding them so, but still more their commanding officer at his hated enemies having again got away from him. His soul was brimful of chagrin, nor did it allay the feeling to learn how, when a path was pointed out to him leading down the other side, they must have made off. And along such a path pursuit was idle. No one could say where it led—like enough to a trap.He was not the only one of the party who felt disappointed at the failure of the expedition. Its guide had reason to be chagrined, too, in his own way of thinking, much more than the leader himself. For not only had he lost the goods obtained under false pretences, but the hope of reward for his volunteered services.Still the dwarf was not so down in the mouth. He had another arrow in his quiver—kept in reserve for reasons of his own—a shaft from which he expected more profit than all yet spent. And as the Hussar colonel was swearing and raging around, he saw his opportunity to discharge it.With half a dozen whispered words he tranquillised the latter; after which there was a brief conference between the two, its effect upon Santander showing itself in his countenance, that became all agleam, lit up with a satisfied but malignant joy.When, in an hour after, they were again in their saddles riding in return for the city, a snatch of dialogue between Santander and Ramirez gave indication of what so gratified the colonel of the Hussars.“Well, Major,” he said, “we’ve done road enough for this day. You’ll be wanting rest by the time you get to quarters.”“That’s true enough, Colonel. Twice to San Augustin and back, with the additional mileage up the mountains—twenty leagues I take it—to say nothing of the climbing.”“All of twenty leagues it will be when we’ve done with it. But our ride won’t be over then. If I’m not mistaken, we’ll be back this way before we lay side on a bed. There’s another nest not far off will claim a visit from us, one we’re not likely to find so empty. I’d rob it now if I had my way; but for certain reasons, mustn’t without permit from headquarters; the which I’m sure of getting!Carajo! if the cock birds have escaped, I’ll take care the hens don’t.”And as if to make sure of it, he dug the spurs deep into the flanks of his now jaded charger, again commanding the “quick gallop.”
About the time the Free Lances were burying their comrade in the cemetery of the convent the gate of San Antonio de Abad was opened to permit the passage of a squadron of Hussars going outward from the city. There were nigh 200 of them, in formation “by fours”—the wide causeway allowing ample room for even ten abreast.
At their head rode Colonel Santander, with Major Ramirez by his side, other officers in their places distributed along the line.
Soon as they had cleared thegarita, a word to the bugler, with a note or two from his trumpet quick succeeding, set them into a gallop; the white dusty road and clear moonlight making the fastest pace easily attainable. And he who commanded was in haste, his destination being that old monastery, of which he had only lately heard, but enough to make him most eager to reach it before morning. His hopes were high; at last he was likely to make acoup—that capture so much desired, so long delayed!
For nearly an hour bridles were let loose, and spurs repeatedly plied. On along thecalzadaswept the squadron, over the bridge Churubusco, and past thehaciendaof San Antonio de Abad, which gives its name to the city gate on that side. Thenceforward the Pedregal impinges on the road, and the Hussars still going at a gallop along its edge, another bugle-call brought them to a halt.
That, however, had naught to do with their halting, which came from their commander having reached the spot where he had left the hunchback in charge of the two soldiers.
He need not hail them to assure himself they were still there. The trampling of horses on the hard causeway, heard afar off, had long ago forewarned the corporal of what was coming; and he was out on the road to receive them, standing in an attitude of attention.
The parley was brief, and quick the action which accompanied it.
“Into your saddle,cabo!” commanded the colonel. “Take that curiosity up behind you, and bring it along.”
In an instant the corporal was mounted, the “curiosity” hoisted up to his croup by Perico, who then sprang to the back of his own horse. Once more the bugle gave tongue, and away they went again.
The cavalcade made no stop in San Augustin. There was no object for halting it there, and delay was the thing its commander most desired to avoid. As they went clattering through thepueblo, its people were a-bed, seemingly asleep. But not all. Two at least were awake, and heard that unusual noise—listened to it with a trembling in their frames and fear in their hearts. Two ladies they were, inside a house beyond the village, on the road running south. Too well they knew what it meant, and whither the galloping cohort was bound. And themselves unseen, they saw who was at the head; though they needed not seeing him to know. But peering through thejalousies, the moonlight revealed to them the face of Don Carlos Santander, in the glimpse they got of it, showing spitefully triumphant.
He could not see them, though his eyes interrogated the windows while he was riding past. They had taken care to extinguish the light in their room.
“Virgin Santissima! Mother of God!” exclaimed one of the ladies, Luisa Valverde, as she dropped on her knees in prayer, “Send that they’ve got safe off ere this!”
“Make your mind easy,amiga!” counselled the Condesa Almonté in less precatory tone. “I’m good as sure they have. José cannot fail to have reached and given them warning. That will be enough.”
A mile or so beyond San Augustin the southern road becomes too steep for horses to go at a gallop, without risk of breaking their wind. So there the Hussars had to change to a slower pace—a walk in fact. There were other reasons for coming to this. The sound of their hoof-strokes ascending would be heard far up the mountain, might reach the ears of those in the monastery, and so thwart the surprise intended for them.
While toiling more leisurely up the steep, any one chancing to look in the hunchback’s face would there have observed an expression indescribable. Sadness pervaded it, with an air of perplexity, as though he had met with some misfortune he could not quite comprehend.
And so had he. Before leaving the spot where the stiletto was taken from him, he had sought an opportunity to step back into that shady niche in the cliff where he had lost his treasures. Themontéplayers, unsuspicious of his object, made no objection. But instead of there finding what he had expected, he saw only a pair of horse-halters: one lying coiled upon the ground, the head-stall of the other caught over the rock above, the rope end dangling down!
An inexplicable phenomenon, which, however, he had kept to himself, and ever since been cudgelling his brains to account for.
But soon after he had something else to think of: the time having arrived when he was called upon to give proof of his capability as a guide. Heretofore it had been all plain road riding; but now they had reached a point spoken of by himself where thecalzadamust be forsaken. The horses, too, left behind; everything but their weapons; the path beyond being barely practicable for men afoot.
Dismounting all, at a command—this time not given by the bugle—and leaving a sufficient detail to look after the animals, they commenced the ascent, their guide, seemingly more quadruped than biped, in the lead. Strung out in single file—no other formation being possible—as they wound their way up the zig-zag with the moonlight here and there, giving back the glint of their armour, it was as some great serpent—a monster of the antediluvian ages—crawling towards its prey. Silently as serpent too; not a word spoken, nor exclamation uttered along their line. For, although it might be another hour before they could reach their destination, less than a second would suffice for their voices to get there, even though but muttered.
One spot their guide passed with something like a shudder. It was where he had appropriated the dagger taken from a dead body. His shuddering was not due to that, but to fear from a far different cause. The body was no longer there. Those who dwelt above must have been down and borne it away. They would now be on the alert, and at any moment he might hear the cracking of carbines—a volley; perhaps feel the avenging bullet. What if they should roll rocks down and crush him and the party behind? In any case there could be no surprisal now; and he would gladly have seen those he was guiding give up the thought of it and turn back. Santander was himself irresolute, and would willingly have done so. But Ramirez, a man of more mettle, at the point of his sword commanded the hunchback to keep on, and the cowardly colonel dare not revoke the order without eternally disgracing himself.
They had no danger to encounter, though they knew not that. Neither vidette nor sentinel was stationed there now; and, without challenge or obstruction, they reached the platform on which the building stood, the soldiers taking to right and left till they swarmed around it as bees. But they found no honey inside their hive.
There was a summons to surrender, which received no response. Repeated louder, and a carbine fired, the result was the same. Silence inside, there could be no one within.
Nor was there. When the Hussar colonel, with a dozen of his men, at length screwed up courage to make a burst into the doorway, and on to the Refectory, they saw but the evidence of late occupancy in the fragments of a supper, with some dozens of wine bottles “down among the dead men,” empty as the building itself.
Disappointed as were the soldiers at finding them so, but still more their commanding officer at his hated enemies having again got away from him. His soul was brimful of chagrin, nor did it allay the feeling to learn how, when a path was pointed out to him leading down the other side, they must have made off. And along such a path pursuit was idle. No one could say where it led—like enough to a trap.
He was not the only one of the party who felt disappointed at the failure of the expedition. Its guide had reason to be chagrined, too, in his own way of thinking, much more than the leader himself. For not only had he lost the goods obtained under false pretences, but the hope of reward for his volunteered services.
Still the dwarf was not so down in the mouth. He had another arrow in his quiver—kept in reserve for reasons of his own—a shaft from which he expected more profit than all yet spent. And as the Hussar colonel was swearing and raging around, he saw his opportunity to discharge it.
With half a dozen whispered words he tranquillised the latter; after which there was a brief conference between the two, its effect upon Santander showing itself in his countenance, that became all agleam, lit up with a satisfied but malignant joy.
When, in an hour after, they were again in their saddles riding in return for the city, a snatch of dialogue between Santander and Ramirez gave indication of what so gratified the colonel of the Hussars.
“Well, Major,” he said, “we’ve done road enough for this day. You’ll be wanting rest by the time you get to quarters.”
“That’s true enough, Colonel. Twice to San Augustin and back, with the additional mileage up the mountains—twenty leagues I take it—to say nothing of the climbing.”
“All of twenty leagues it will be when we’ve done with it. But our ride won’t be over then. If I’m not mistaken, we’ll be back this way before we lay side on a bed. There’s another nest not far off will claim a visit from us, one we’re not likely to find so empty. I’d rob it now if I had my way; but for certain reasons, mustn’t without permit from headquarters; the which I’m sure of getting!Carajo! if the cock birds have escaped, I’ll take care the hens don’t.”
And as if to make sure of it, he dug the spurs deep into the flanks of his now jaded charger, again commanding the “quick gallop.”
Chapter Fifty Six.A Day of Suspense.Dawn was just beginning to show over the easternCordilleras, its aurora giving a rose tint to the snowy cone of Popocatepec, as the Hussars passed back through San Augustin. The bells of theparoquiahad commenced tolling matins, and many people abroad in the streets, hurrying toward the church, saw them—interrogating one another as to where they had been, and on what errand bound.But before entering thepueblothey had to pass under the same eyes that observed them going outward on the other side; these more keenly and anxiously scrutinising them now, noting every file as it came in sight, every individual horseman, till the last was revealed; then lighting up with joyous sparkle, while they, thus observing, breathed freely.For the soldiers had come as they went, not a man added to their number, if none missing, but certainly no prisoners brought back!“They’ve got safe off,” triumphantly exclaimed the Countess, when the rearmost files had forged past, “as I told you they would. I knew there was no fear after they had been warned.”That they had been warned both were by this aware, their messenger having meanwhile returned and reported to that effect. He had met the Hussars on their way up, but crouching among some bushes, he had been unobserved by them; and, soon as they were well out of the way, slipped out again and made all haste home.He had brought back something more than a mere verbal message—abilletitafor each of the two who had commissioned him.The notes were alike, in that both had been hastily scribbled, and in brief but warm expression of thanks for the service done to the writers. Beyond this, however, they were quite different. It was the first epistle Florence Kearney had ever indited to Luisa Valverde, and ran in fervid strain. He felt he could so address her. With love long in doubt that it was even reciprocated, but sure of its being so now, he spoke frankly as passionately. Whatever his future, she had his heart, and wholly. If he lived, he would seek her again at the peril of a thousand lives; if it should be his fate to die, her name would be the last word on his lips.“Virgen Santissima! Keep him safe!” was her prayer, as she finished devouring the sweet words; then, refolding the sheet on which they were written, secreted it away in the bosom of her dress—a treasure more esteemed than aught that had ever lain there.The communication received by the Condesa was less effusive, and more to the point of what, under present circumstances, concerned the writer, as, indeed, all of them. Don Ruperto wrote with the confidence of a lover who had never known doubt. A man of rare qualities, he was true to friendship as to his country’s cause, and would not be false to love. And he had no fear of her. Hislienswith Ysabel Almonté were such as to preclude all thought of her affections ever changing. He knew that she was his—heart, soul, everything. For had she not given him every earnest of it, befriended him through weal and through woe? Nor had he need to assure her that her love was reciprocated, or his fealty still unfaltering; for their faith, as their reliance, was mutual. His letter, therefore, was less that of a lover to his mistress than one between man and man, written to a fellow-conspirator, most of it in figurative phrase, even some of it in cypher!No surprise to her all that; she understood the reason. Nor was there any enigma in the signs and words of double signification; without difficulty she interpreted them all.They told her of the anticipated rising, with the attempt to be made on Oaxaca, the hopes of its having a success, and, if so, what would come after. But also of something before this—where he, the writer, and his Free Lances would be on the following night, so that if need arose she could communicate with him. If she had apprehension of danger to him, he was not without thought of the same threatening herself and her friend too.Neither were they now; instead, filled with such apprehension. In view of what had occurred on the preceding evening, and throughout the night, how could they be other? The dwarf must know more than he had revealed in that dialogue overheard by José. In short, he seemed aware of everything—thecochero’scomplicity as their own. The free surrender of their watches and jewellery for the support of the escaped prisoners were of itself enough to incriminate them. Surely there would be another investigation, more rigorous than before, and likely to have a different ending.With this in contemplation, their souls full of fear, neither went that morning to matins. Nor did they essay to take sleep or rest. Instead, wandered about the house from room to room, and out into the grounds, seemingly distraught.They had the place all to themselves; no one to take counsel with, none to comfort them; Don Ignacio, at an early hour, having been called off to his duties in the city. But they were not destined to spend the whole of that day without seeing a visitor. As the clocks of San Augustin were striking 8 p.m. one presented himself at the gate in the guise of an officer of Hussars, Don Carlos Santander. Nor was he alone, but with an escort accompanying. They were seated in the verandah of the inner court, but saw him through thesaguan, the door of which was open, saw him enter at the outer gate, and without dismounting come on towards them, several files of his men following. He had been accustomed to visit them there, and they to receive his visits, however reluctantly, reasons of many kinds compelling them. But never had he presented himself as now. It was an act of ill-manners his entering unannounced, another riding into the enclosure with soldiers behind him; but the rudeness was complete when he came on into thepatiostill in the saddle, his men too, and pulled up directly in front of them, without waiting for word of invitation. The stiff, formal bow, the expression upon his swarthy features, severe, but with ill-concealed exultation in it, proclaimed his visit of no complimentary kind.By this both were on their feet, looking offended, even angry, at the same time alarmed. And yet little surprised, for it was only confirmation of the fear that had been all day oppressing them—its very fulfilment. But that they believed it this they would have shown their resentment by retiring and leaving him there. As it was, they knew that would be idle, and so stayed to hear what he had to say. It was—“Señoritas, I see you’re wondering at my thus presenting myself. Not strange you should. Nor could any one more regret the disagreeable errand I’ve come upon than I. It grieves me sorely, I assure you.”“What is it, Colonel Santander?” demanded the Countess, withsang-froidpartially restored.“I hate to declare it, Condesa,” he rejoined, “still more to execute it. But, compelled by the rigorous necessities of a soldier’s duty, I must.”“Well, sir; must what?”“Make you a prisoner; and, I am sorry to add, also the Doña Luisa.”“Oh, that’s it!” exclaimed the Countess, with a scornful inclination of the head. “Well, sir, I don’t wonder at your disliking the duty, as you say you do. It seems more that of a policeman than a soldier.”The retort struck home, still further humiliating him in the eyes of the woman he loved, Luisa Valverde. But he now knew she loved not him, and had made up his mind to humble her in a way hitherto untried. Stung by the innuendo, and dropping his clumsy pretence at politeness, he spitefully rejoined—“Thank you, Condesa Almonté for your amiable observation. It does something to compensate me for having to do policeman’s duty. And now let it be done. Please to consider yourself under arrest; and you also, Señorita Valverde.”Up to this time the last named lady had not said a word, the distress she was in restraining her. But as mistress there, she saw it was her turn to speak, which she did, saying—“If we are your prisoners, Colonel Santander, I hope you will not take us away from here till my father comes home. As you may be aware, he’s in the city.”“I am aware of that, Doña Luisa, and glad to say my orders enable me to comply with your wishes, and that you remain here till Don Ignacio returns. I’m enjoined to see to your safe keeping—a very absurd requirement, but one which often falls to the lot of the soldier as well as thepoliceman.”Neither the significant words nor the forced laugh that accompanied them had any effect on her for whom they were intended. With disdain in her eyes, such as a captive queen might show for the common soldier who stood guard over her, the Condesa had already turned her back upon the speaker and was walking away. With like proud air, but less confident and scornful, Luisa Valverde followed. Both were allowed to pass inside, leaving the Hussar colonel to take such measures for their keeping as he might think fit.His first step was to order in the remainder of his escort and distribute them around the house, so that in ten minutes after thecasa de campoof Don Ignacio Valverde bore resemblance to a barrack, with sentinels at every entrance and corner!
Dawn was just beginning to show over the easternCordilleras, its aurora giving a rose tint to the snowy cone of Popocatepec, as the Hussars passed back through San Augustin. The bells of theparoquiahad commenced tolling matins, and many people abroad in the streets, hurrying toward the church, saw them—interrogating one another as to where they had been, and on what errand bound.
But before entering thepueblothey had to pass under the same eyes that observed them going outward on the other side; these more keenly and anxiously scrutinising them now, noting every file as it came in sight, every individual horseman, till the last was revealed; then lighting up with joyous sparkle, while they, thus observing, breathed freely.
For the soldiers had come as they went, not a man added to their number, if none missing, but certainly no prisoners brought back!
“They’ve got safe off,” triumphantly exclaimed the Countess, when the rearmost files had forged past, “as I told you they would. I knew there was no fear after they had been warned.”
That they had been warned both were by this aware, their messenger having meanwhile returned and reported to that effect. He had met the Hussars on their way up, but crouching among some bushes, he had been unobserved by them; and, soon as they were well out of the way, slipped out again and made all haste home.
He had brought back something more than a mere verbal message—abilletitafor each of the two who had commissioned him.
The notes were alike, in that both had been hastily scribbled, and in brief but warm expression of thanks for the service done to the writers. Beyond this, however, they were quite different. It was the first epistle Florence Kearney had ever indited to Luisa Valverde, and ran in fervid strain. He felt he could so address her. With love long in doubt that it was even reciprocated, but sure of its being so now, he spoke frankly as passionately. Whatever his future, she had his heart, and wholly. If he lived, he would seek her again at the peril of a thousand lives; if it should be his fate to die, her name would be the last word on his lips.
“Virgen Santissima! Keep him safe!” was her prayer, as she finished devouring the sweet words; then, refolding the sheet on which they were written, secreted it away in the bosom of her dress—a treasure more esteemed than aught that had ever lain there.
The communication received by the Condesa was less effusive, and more to the point of what, under present circumstances, concerned the writer, as, indeed, all of them. Don Ruperto wrote with the confidence of a lover who had never known doubt. A man of rare qualities, he was true to friendship as to his country’s cause, and would not be false to love. And he had no fear of her. Hislienswith Ysabel Almonté were such as to preclude all thought of her affections ever changing. He knew that she was his—heart, soul, everything. For had she not given him every earnest of it, befriended him through weal and through woe? Nor had he need to assure her that her love was reciprocated, or his fealty still unfaltering; for their faith, as their reliance, was mutual. His letter, therefore, was less that of a lover to his mistress than one between man and man, written to a fellow-conspirator, most of it in figurative phrase, even some of it in cypher!
No surprise to her all that; she understood the reason. Nor was there any enigma in the signs and words of double signification; without difficulty she interpreted them all.
They told her of the anticipated rising, with the attempt to be made on Oaxaca, the hopes of its having a success, and, if so, what would come after. But also of something before this—where he, the writer, and his Free Lances would be on the following night, so that if need arose she could communicate with him. If she had apprehension of danger to him, he was not without thought of the same threatening herself and her friend too.
Neither were they now; instead, filled with such apprehension. In view of what had occurred on the preceding evening, and throughout the night, how could they be other? The dwarf must know more than he had revealed in that dialogue overheard by José. In short, he seemed aware of everything—thecochero’scomplicity as their own. The free surrender of their watches and jewellery for the support of the escaped prisoners were of itself enough to incriminate them. Surely there would be another investigation, more rigorous than before, and likely to have a different ending.
With this in contemplation, their souls full of fear, neither went that morning to matins. Nor did they essay to take sleep or rest. Instead, wandered about the house from room to room, and out into the grounds, seemingly distraught.
They had the place all to themselves; no one to take counsel with, none to comfort them; Don Ignacio, at an early hour, having been called off to his duties in the city. But they were not destined to spend the whole of that day without seeing a visitor. As the clocks of San Augustin were striking 8 p.m. one presented himself at the gate in the guise of an officer of Hussars, Don Carlos Santander. Nor was he alone, but with an escort accompanying. They were seated in the verandah of the inner court, but saw him through thesaguan, the door of which was open, saw him enter at the outer gate, and without dismounting come on towards them, several files of his men following. He had been accustomed to visit them there, and they to receive his visits, however reluctantly, reasons of many kinds compelling them. But never had he presented himself as now. It was an act of ill-manners his entering unannounced, another riding into the enclosure with soldiers behind him; but the rudeness was complete when he came on into thepatiostill in the saddle, his men too, and pulled up directly in front of them, without waiting for word of invitation. The stiff, formal bow, the expression upon his swarthy features, severe, but with ill-concealed exultation in it, proclaimed his visit of no complimentary kind.
By this both were on their feet, looking offended, even angry, at the same time alarmed. And yet little surprised, for it was only confirmation of the fear that had been all day oppressing them—its very fulfilment. But that they believed it this they would have shown their resentment by retiring and leaving him there. As it was, they knew that would be idle, and so stayed to hear what he had to say. It was—
“Señoritas, I see you’re wondering at my thus presenting myself. Not strange you should. Nor could any one more regret the disagreeable errand I’ve come upon than I. It grieves me sorely, I assure you.”
“What is it, Colonel Santander?” demanded the Countess, withsang-froidpartially restored.
“I hate to declare it, Condesa,” he rejoined, “still more to execute it. But, compelled by the rigorous necessities of a soldier’s duty, I must.”
“Well, sir; must what?”
“Make you a prisoner; and, I am sorry to add, also the Doña Luisa.”
“Oh, that’s it!” exclaimed the Countess, with a scornful inclination of the head. “Well, sir, I don’t wonder at your disliking the duty, as you say you do. It seems more that of a policeman than a soldier.”
The retort struck home, still further humiliating him in the eyes of the woman he loved, Luisa Valverde. But he now knew she loved not him, and had made up his mind to humble her in a way hitherto untried. Stung by the innuendo, and dropping his clumsy pretence at politeness, he spitefully rejoined—
“Thank you, Condesa Almonté for your amiable observation. It does something to compensate me for having to do policeman’s duty. And now let it be done. Please to consider yourself under arrest; and you also, Señorita Valverde.”
Up to this time the last named lady had not said a word, the distress she was in restraining her. But as mistress there, she saw it was her turn to speak, which she did, saying—
“If we are your prisoners, Colonel Santander, I hope you will not take us away from here till my father comes home. As you may be aware, he’s in the city.”
“I am aware of that, Doña Luisa, and glad to say my orders enable me to comply with your wishes, and that you remain here till Don Ignacio returns. I’m enjoined to see to your safe keeping—a very absurd requirement, but one which often falls to the lot of the soldier as well as thepoliceman.”
Neither the significant words nor the forced laugh that accompanied them had any effect on her for whom they were intended. With disdain in her eyes, such as a captive queen might show for the common soldier who stood guard over her, the Condesa had already turned her back upon the speaker and was walking away. With like proud air, but less confident and scornful, Luisa Valverde followed. Both were allowed to pass inside, leaving the Hussar colonel to take such measures for their keeping as he might think fit.
His first step was to order in the remainder of his escort and distribute them around the house, so that in ten minutes after thecasa de campoof Don Ignacio Valverde bore resemblance to a barrack, with sentinels at every entrance and corner!
Chapter Fifty Seven.Under Arrest.Scarce necessary to say that Luisa Valverde and Ysabel Almonté were at length really alarmed—fully alive to a sense of their danger.It was no more a question of the safety of their lovers, but their own. And the prospect was dark, indeed. Santander had said nothing of the reason for arresting them; nor had they cared to inquire. They divined it; no longer doubting that it was owing to revelations made by the hunchback.Sure now that this diminutive wretch not only himself knew their secret, but had made it known in higher quarters, there seemed no hope for them; instead, ruin staring them in the face. The indignity to their persons they were already experiencing would be followed by social disgrace, and confiscation of property.“Oh, Ysabelita! what will they do to us?” was the Doña Luisa’s anxious interrogatory, soon as they had got well inside their room. “Do you think they’ll put us in a prison?”“Possibly they will. I wish there was nothing worse awaiting us.”“Worse! Do you mean they’d inflict punishment on us—that is, corporal punishment? Surely they daren’t?”“Daren’t! Santa Anna dare anything—at least, neither shame nor mercy will restrain him. No more this other man, his minion, whom you know better than I. But it isn’t punishment of that kind I’m thinking of.”“What then, Ysabel? The loss of our property? It’ll be all taken from us, I suppose.”“In all likelihood it will,” rejoined the Condesa, with as much unconcern as though her estates, value far more than a million, were not worth a thought.“Oh! my father! This new misfortune, and all owing to me. ’Twill kill him!”“No, no, Luisita! Don’t fear that. He will survive it, if aught survives of our country’s liberty. And it will, all of it, be restored again. ’Tis something else I was thinking of.”Again the other asked “What?” her countenance showing increased anxiety.“What we as women have more to fear than aught else. From the loss of lands, houses, riches of any sort, one may recover—from the loss of that, never!”Enigmatic as were the words, Luisa Valverde needed no explanation of them, nor pressed for it. She comprehended all now, and signified her apprehension by exclaiming, with a shudder, “Virgen Santissima!”“The prison they will take us to,” pursued the Countess, “is a place—that in the Plaza Grande. We shall be immured there, and at the mercy of that man, that monster! O God!—O Mother of God, protect me!”At which she dropped down upon a couch despairingly, with face buried in her hands.It was a rare thing for the Condesa Almonté to be so moved—rather, to show despondence—and her friend was affected accordingly. For there was another man at whose mercy she herself would be—one like a monster, and as she well knew equally unmerciful—he who at that moment was under the same roof with them—in her father’s house, for the time its master.“But, Ysabel,” she said, hoping against hope, “surely they will not dare to—”She left the word unspoken, knowing it was not needed to make her meaning understood.“Not dare!” echoed the Countess, recovering nerve and again rising to her feet. “As I’ve said, he’ll dare anything—will Don Antonio Lopez De Santa Anna. Besides, what hasheto fear? Nothing. He can show good cause for our imprisonment, else he would never have had us arrested. Enough to satisfy any clamour of the people. And how would any one ever know of what might be done to us inside the Palacio? Ah,Luisita querida, if its walls could speak they might tell tales sad enough to make angels weep. We wouldn’t be the first who have been subjected to insult—ay, infamy—byEl excellentissimo. Valga me Dios!” she cried out in conclusion, stamping her foot on the floor, while the flash of her eyes told of some fixed determination. “If it be so, that Palace prison will have another secret to keep, or a tale to tell, sad and tragic as any that has preceded. I, Ysabel Almonté, shall die in it rather than come out dishonoured.”“I, too!” echoed Luisa Valverde, if in less excited manner, inspired by a like heroic resolve.While his fair prisoners were thus exchanging thought and speech, Santander, in thesala grandeoutside, was doing his best to pass the time pleasantly. An effort it was costing him, however, and one far from successful. His last lingering hope of being beloved by Luisa Valverde was gone—completely destroyed by what had late come to his knowledge—and henceforth his love for her could only be as that of Tarquin for Lucretia. Nor would he have any Collatinus to fear—no rival, martial or otherwise—since his master, Santa Anna, had long since given up his designs on Don Ignacio’s daughter, exclusively bending himself to his scheme of conquest—now revenge—over the Condesa. But though relieved in this regard, and likely to have his own way, Carlos Santander was anything but a happy man after making that arrest; instead, almost as miserable as either of those he had arrested.Still keeping up a pretence of gallantry, he could not command their company in the drawing-room where he had installed himself; nor, under the circumstances, would it have been desirable. He was not alone, however; Major Ramirez and the other officers of his escort being there with him; and, as in like cases, they were enjoying themselves. However considerate for the feelings of the ladies, they made free enough with the house itself, its domestics, larder, andcocina, and, above all, the cellar. Its binns were inquired into, the best wine ordered to be brought from them, as though they who gave the order were the guests of an hotel and Don Ignacio’s drawing-room a drinking saloon.Outside in the courtyard, and further off by the coach-house, similar scenes were transpiring. Never had that quietcasa de campoknown so much noise. For the soldiers had got among them—it was the house of arebel, and therefore devoted to ruin.
Scarce necessary to say that Luisa Valverde and Ysabel Almonté were at length really alarmed—fully alive to a sense of their danger.
It was no more a question of the safety of their lovers, but their own. And the prospect was dark, indeed. Santander had said nothing of the reason for arresting them; nor had they cared to inquire. They divined it; no longer doubting that it was owing to revelations made by the hunchback.
Sure now that this diminutive wretch not only himself knew their secret, but had made it known in higher quarters, there seemed no hope for them; instead, ruin staring them in the face. The indignity to their persons they were already experiencing would be followed by social disgrace, and confiscation of property.
“Oh, Ysabelita! what will they do to us?” was the Doña Luisa’s anxious interrogatory, soon as they had got well inside their room. “Do you think they’ll put us in a prison?”
“Possibly they will. I wish there was nothing worse awaiting us.”
“Worse! Do you mean they’d inflict punishment on us—that is, corporal punishment? Surely they daren’t?”
“Daren’t! Santa Anna dare anything—at least, neither shame nor mercy will restrain him. No more this other man, his minion, whom you know better than I. But it isn’t punishment of that kind I’m thinking of.”
“What then, Ysabel? The loss of our property? It’ll be all taken from us, I suppose.”
“In all likelihood it will,” rejoined the Condesa, with as much unconcern as though her estates, value far more than a million, were not worth a thought.
“Oh! my father! This new misfortune, and all owing to me. ’Twill kill him!”
“No, no, Luisita! Don’t fear that. He will survive it, if aught survives of our country’s liberty. And it will, all of it, be restored again. ’Tis something else I was thinking of.”
Again the other asked “What?” her countenance showing increased anxiety.
“What we as women have more to fear than aught else. From the loss of lands, houses, riches of any sort, one may recover—from the loss of that, never!”
Enigmatic as were the words, Luisa Valverde needed no explanation of them, nor pressed for it. She comprehended all now, and signified her apprehension by exclaiming, with a shudder, “Virgen Santissima!”
“The prison they will take us to,” pursued the Countess, “is a place—that in the Plaza Grande. We shall be immured there, and at the mercy of that man, that monster! O God!—O Mother of God, protect me!”
At which she dropped down upon a couch despairingly, with face buried in her hands.
It was a rare thing for the Condesa Almonté to be so moved—rather, to show despondence—and her friend was affected accordingly. For there was another man at whose mercy she herself would be—one like a monster, and as she well knew equally unmerciful—he who at that moment was under the same roof with them—in her father’s house, for the time its master.
“But, Ysabel,” she said, hoping against hope, “surely they will not dare to—”
She left the word unspoken, knowing it was not needed to make her meaning understood.
“Not dare!” echoed the Countess, recovering nerve and again rising to her feet. “As I’ve said, he’ll dare anything—will Don Antonio Lopez De Santa Anna. Besides, what hasheto fear? Nothing. He can show good cause for our imprisonment, else he would never have had us arrested. Enough to satisfy any clamour of the people. And how would any one ever know of what might be done to us inside the Palacio? Ah,Luisita querida, if its walls could speak they might tell tales sad enough to make angels weep. We wouldn’t be the first who have been subjected to insult—ay, infamy—byEl excellentissimo. Valga me Dios!” she cried out in conclusion, stamping her foot on the floor, while the flash of her eyes told of some fixed determination. “If it be so, that Palace prison will have another secret to keep, or a tale to tell, sad and tragic as any that has preceded. I, Ysabel Almonté, shall die in it rather than come out dishonoured.”
“I, too!” echoed Luisa Valverde, if in less excited manner, inspired by a like heroic resolve.
While his fair prisoners were thus exchanging thought and speech, Santander, in thesala grandeoutside, was doing his best to pass the time pleasantly. An effort it was costing him, however, and one far from successful. His last lingering hope of being beloved by Luisa Valverde was gone—completely destroyed by what had late come to his knowledge—and henceforth his love for her could only be as that of Tarquin for Lucretia. Nor would he have any Collatinus to fear—no rival, martial or otherwise—since his master, Santa Anna, had long since given up his designs on Don Ignacio’s daughter, exclusively bending himself to his scheme of conquest—now revenge—over the Condesa. But though relieved in this regard, and likely to have his own way, Carlos Santander was anything but a happy man after making that arrest; instead, almost as miserable as either of those he had arrested.
Still keeping up a pretence of gallantry, he could not command their company in the drawing-room where he had installed himself; nor, under the circumstances, would it have been desirable. He was not alone, however; Major Ramirez and the other officers of his escort being there with him; and, as in like cases, they were enjoying themselves. However considerate for the feelings of the ladies, they made free enough with the house itself, its domestics, larder, andcocina, and, above all, the cellar. Its binns were inquired into, the best wine ordered to be brought from them, as though they who gave the order were the guests of an hotel and Don Ignacio’s drawing-room a drinking saloon.
Outside in the courtyard, and further off by the coach-house, similar scenes were transpiring. Never had that quietcasa de campoknown so much noise. For the soldiers had got among them—it was the house of arebel, and therefore devoted to ruin.