"I know them; but they have to do with a cleverer fellow: trust to me for that."
"That is your business. At the slightest mistake, I give you up."
"I do not fear that happiness."
"Did you not allude to the dexterity of your fingers?"
"Yes, I did, Excellency."
"Well, if by chance these gentlemen let any papers of importance fall, you will do well to pick them up and bring them to me at once. I am of a very curious nature."
"Enough. If I do not find any lying about, I will look for them."
"That is a good idea, which I approve of. Ah! Remember this: the papers count separately. Each of them, if worth it, will fetch you three ounces. If you make a mistake it will be all the worse for you, as you will receive nothing."
"I will take my precautions, Excellency. Now will you be kind enough to tell me where I can find you when I have communications to make, or papers to deliver?"
"That is very easy. I walk every afternoon from three till five along the canal de Las Vigas."
"I will be there."
"Pray be prudent."
"As an opossum, Excellency."
"Good-bye: watch attentively."
"Excellency. I have the honour to salute you."
They separated. Don Jaime, after ordering his sister's old servant who, during the whole of this conversation had held the gate open to go in and secure it on the inside, proceeded toward the residence of the young man rubbing his hands. The count and his friend, disturbed by don Jaime's long absence, were awaiting him with a feeling of lively anxiety, they were already preparing to go in search of him, when he entered: they received him with warm testimonies of joy, and then asked him about his expedition. Don Jaime saw no reason for keeping them in ignorance of what had taken place, and he repeated to them in detail his conversation with Jesús Domínguez, and how he had led him to betray his master. This narrative greatly amused the young men. The three remained together till daybreak: shortly before sunrise they separated, don Jaime's last remark on leaving them being the following:
"My friends, though my conduct may seem to you so extraordinary, do not judge of it yet: in a few days at the most, I shall strike the great blow which I have been preparing for so many years. Everything will then be explained to you, whatever the result may be, and hence be patient, for you are more interested than you suppose in the success of this affair: remember what you promised me and hold yourselves in readiness to act when I claim your assistance. Farewell."
He pressed their hands affectionately and withdrew.
A whole week passed away without any events worthy of record. Still a dull anxiety prevailed in the city: numerous meetings in which all the new political movements were discussed, were held in the squares and in the streets. In the mercantile quarters of the city, the shops were only opened for a few hours, and provisions became more and more scarce, and consequently dearer, as only a few Indians came to the city and brought very little with them. A vague agitation, without any known or definite cause prevailed among the population: it was felt that the critical moment was approaching and that the storm; so long suspended over Mexico would soon burst with; a terrible fury.
Don Jaime, apparently at least, led the idle life of a man whom his position places above all accidents, and for whom political events possess no importance: he strolled about the squares and streets, smoking his cigar, listening to everything that was said with the simplicity of a believer, accepting as true all the monstrous absurdities invented by the novelists of the street corners, and not saying a word himself. Every day he took a walk on the canal de Las Vigas, accident made him meet Jesús Domínguez, they conversed for a long time while walking side by side, and then separated apparently mutually satisfied. For the last two or three days, however, don Jaime had not seemed so pleased with his spy, sharp words and covert threats were exchanged between them.
"My friend Jesús Domínguez;" don Jaime said to his spy at the sixth or seventh interview he had with him: "take care; I fancy I can perceive that you have been trying to play a double game. I have a fine nose as you are aware, and scent treachery."
"Oh, Excellency," Jesús Domínguez exclaimed, "you are mistaken; I am on the contrary most faithful, be assured of that, for men do not betray a generous caballero like yourself."
"That is possible; at any rate you are warned, and act accordingly; and mind not to forget to bring me tomorrow the papers you have promised me for the last three days."
Upon this don Jaime left the spy greatly abashed by this sharp reprimand, and very anxious as to the turn matters might take if he did not act prudently; for, it must be confessed, Jesús Domínguez' conscience was not very tranquil. Don Jaime's suspicions were not totally devoid of foundation; if the spy had not yet betrayed his generous protector, the idea had occurred to him of doing so, and for a man like the guerillero, from thought to execution was only a step. Hence he resolved to rehabilitate himself in don Jaime's opinion by a brilliant stroke in order to regain his confidence; for this purpose he decided on taking the papers which don Jaime asked of him, and handing them to him on the morrow, with a determination of stealing them from him again if he considered it worth the while. On the next day, at the appointed hour, don Jaime was at the place of meeting: Jesús Domínguez speedily arrived, and with a great display of devotedness according to his wont, handed a rather large bundle of papers to the adventurer; the latter took a rapid glance at them, concealed them under his cloak, and after letting a heavy purse of gold drop into the guerillero's hand, he brusquely turned his back on him, without listening to his protestations.
"¡Diablos!" Jesús Domínguez muttered. "He does not seem in a very sweet temper today, so I must not leave him the time to take his precautions: I have luckily discovered where he lives, and now I must act and go and tell everything to don Melchior. I shall be able to arrange matters so that he will believe I have only manoeuvred to make his enemy confident, and betray him the more easily; and as I intend to betray him, don Melchior will be enchanted, and congratulate me on my skill. By Heavens! Sense is a fine thing. I am decidedly a man full of intelligence."
While complimenting himself thus in an aside, Jesús Domínguez, who was walking with his head down as persons who are reflecting do, ran full butt against two individuals who were walking arm in arm and conversing. The two persons were probably quick tempered, for they turned sharply, and addressed some rather harsh reproaches to the guerillero. The latter, who felt himself in the wrong, and as he had a considerable sum about him, did not feel anxious to get into an ugly quarrel, attempted to apologize as well as he could. But the strangers would listen to nothing, and continued to apply to him the epithets of brute, ass, and other compliments of the sort. Though the guerillero was on his guard, his patience at length deserted him, and letting himself be overpowered by passion, he laid his hand on his knife. This imprudent action was his ruin. The two strangers rushed upon him, knocked him down, and both stabbed him repeatedly; then, as the street in which this quarrel took place was entirely deserted, and consequently no one had seen them, they assured themselves that the poor fellow was really dead; after which they quietly went off, though not till they had eased him of his money and everything that could prove his identity.
Thus died señor Jesús Domínguez. The celadores picked up his body two hours later, and as no one recognized it, it was unceremoniously cast into a hole dug in the cemetery, without further enquiry. Don Melchior was perhaps astonished at not seeing him again; but as he placed slight confidence in his honesty, he supposed that he had committed some roguery, which rendered his absence advisable, and thought no more of him.
The few days which had elapsed since his interview with don Jaime, were not wasted by General don Miguel Miramón. Decided on playing a last stake, he had not been willing to risk it till he had as far as possible equalized the advantages, even though he might not have all the chances on his side, so as to render the struggle which, whatever its result might be, must be decisive, more favourable to his projects.
Not only did the President actually employ himself in recruiting and organizing his army and placing it on a respectable footing; but in addition, not heeding for himself how injurious the seizure of the six hundred thousand piastres of the Convention bonds in the House of the Consul of that nation was to him, he made energetic efforts to repair the injury which this stroke had done him, and paved the way for a negotiation, by which he pledged himself to refund in London the money he had so unfortunately taken; while alleging as excuse for this audacious act that it was only intended as reprisals against Mr. Mathew, the Chargé d'Affaires of the British Government, whose incessant machinations and hostile demonstrations against the recognized government of Mexico had placed the President in the critical position in which he now found himself. As a proof of this statement, he declared, as was true, that after the battle of Toluca there had been found among the baggage of General Degollado, who was made prisoner in that affair, a plan for attacking Mexico, written by Mr. Mathew himself—a fact that constituted an act of felony on the part of the representative of a friendly government.
The President, in order to give greater force to this declaration, showed the original of this plan to the foreign ministers residing in Mexico, and then had it translated and published, in the official journal. This publication had produced all the effect the President anticipated from it, and, by increasing the instinctive hatred of the population for the English nation, regained him the sympathies of a few.
Miramón then redoubled his efforts, and, at length succeeded in arming eight thousand men—a very small number against the twenty-four thousand who menaced him—for General Huerta, whose conduct had for some time past been marked with hesitation, at length decided on leaving Morelia at the head of four thousand men, who, joined to the eleven thousand of González Ortega, the five thousand of Gazza Amondia, and the four thousand of Aureliano Carvajal and Cuéllar, formed an effective strength of twenty-four thousand men, who were advanced by forced marches on Mexico, and would speedily appear before the city. The situation became more critical with every moment. The population, ignorant of the President's plans, were agitated by the most lively terror, expecting at any moment to see the heads of the Juarist columns debouch, and to undergo all the horrors of a siege.
In the meanwhile, Miramón, who was anxious before all not to lose the esteem of his countrymen, and to calm the exaggerated fears of the population, resolved on convoking the ayuntamiento. He then strove, by a speech full of courage, to make these representatives of the population of the capital understand that it had never been his intention to await the enemy behind the walls of the city—that, on the contrary, he had determined to go and attack them in the open country, and that, whatever might be the result of the battle he proposed to fight, the city would have no cause to fear a siege. This assurance slightly calmed the fears of the population, and stopped, as if by enchantment, the tentatives at disorder, and the seditious cries which the hidden partizans of Juárez secretly excited among the groups assembled in the squares, which were constantly stationed there for the last two or three days, and even bivouacked there at night.
When the President believed that he had taken all the prudential measures which circumstances demanded to attack the enemy without too marked a disadvantage, while leaving in the city the requisite forces to keep it in subordination, he assembled a last council of war, to discuss the most suitable plan for surprising and defeating the enemy. This council of war lasted several hours. A number of projects was proposed, some of which, as always happens under such circumstances, were impracticable—and others which, had they been adopted, might possibly have saved the government.
Unfortunately, on this day, General Miramón, usually so sensible and prudent, allowed himself to be carried away by his personal resentment, instead of considering the true interests of the nation.
Don Benito Juárez is a lawyer. We will mention, in passing, that, since the proclamation of Mexican Independence, he is the sole President of the Republic who has not emerged from the ranks of the army, or belonged to the magistracy. Now, Juárez, not being a soldier, could not place himself at the head of his army. Hence, he had temporarily established his residence at Veracruz, which he had made his capital, and appointed don González Ortega Commander-in-Chief, with the most extensive powers as regarded questions of military strategy, trusting entirely to special knowledge and experience for the conduct of the war. But he had completely held back the diplomatic question in his own hands, not wishing that General Ortega, a brave soldier but very bad negotiator, should compromise, by misplaced generosity, the success which he anticipated from his cautious And crafty policy. It was General Ortega by whom Miramón had been defeated at Silao. The resentment at this defeat had remained ever present in the President's heart: and he felt the most lively desire to wash out the insult he had received on that occasion. Hence, forgetting his habitual prudence, and contrary to the advice of his wisest councillors, he insisted, in the council, that the first attack should be directed against the corps, at the head of which was Ortega.
The motives he alleged in order to have this resolution adopted, though rather specious, were not absolutely deficient in logic. He declared that if he succeeded in defeating Ortega, the Commander-in-Chief, at the head of the largest corps, demoralization would break out in the enemy's army, and they would have an easy victory over them. The President sustained his opinion with so much eloquence and obstinacy, that he overcame the opposition of the members of the council, and caused the plan he had conceived to be definitively adopted; and once this decision was formed, the general, not wishing to lose a moment in putting it in execution appointed for the morrow a review of all the troops, and fixed the departure for the same day, so as not to let the enthusiasm of his soldiers grow cold.
When the council finally broke up, the President withdrew to his apartments, in order to make his final arrangements, set his affairs in order, and burn certain compromising papers which he did not wish to leave behind him. The President had been shut up in his apartments for some hours; the evening was advanced when the usher on duty announced don Jaime. He at once ordered him to be shown in. The adventurer entered.
"You will permit me to go on, will you not?" the President said with a smile; "I have only a few more papers to arrange, and then I shall have finished."
"Do so, pray, General," the adventurer said, seating himself in a butaca.
Miramón resumed his momentarily interrupted occupation. Don Jaime gazed at him for a moment with an expression of indescribable melancholy.
"So," he said, "your resolution is decidedly formed, General?"
"Oh, the dye is cast. I have crossed my Rubicon, I would say, were it not ridiculous for me to compare myself with Caesar. I am going to offer my enemies battle."
"I do not blame that resolution, for it is worthy of you, General. Will you permit me to ask when you propose setting out?"
"Tomorrow, immediately after the review I have ordered."
"Good: in that case I have time to send out two or three intelligent scouts, who will inform you of the enemy's exact position."
"Although several have already started, I gratefully accept your offer, don Jaime."
"Now, be kind enough to tell what direction you intend to follow, and the corps you have resolved to attack."
"I intend to take the bull by the horns; that is to say, González Ortega himself."
The adventurer shook his head, but did not venture the slightest observation. He merely said, "Very good."
Miramón left his writing table and sat down by his side. "There that is finished," he said; "now I am at your service. I guess that you wish to make up some important communication; so speak, don Jaime, I am ready to hear you."
"You are not mistaken, General; I have, indeed, a matter of the utmost importance to communicate to you. Be good enough to read this paper."
And he handed the President a folded document. The President took it, read it without displaying the slightest sign of surprise, and then returned it to the adventurer. "Have you read the signature?" he said.
"Yes," he replied coldly; "it is a letter of credit given by don Benito Juárez to don Antonio Cacerbar, recommending the latter to his adherents."
"It is really so, General; you have now no doubts left as to that man's treachery?"
"None."
"Pardon me for asking, General, but what do you intend doing?"
"Nothing."
"What, nothing?" he exclaimed with unaffected surprise.
"No, I shall do nothing," he added.
The adventurer looked stupefied.
"I do not understand you, Excellency," he muttered.
"Listen to me, don Jaime, and you will understand me," the President answered in a gentle and penetrating voice: "don Francisco Pacheco, ambassador Extraordinary of the Queen of Spain, has rendered me immense services since his arrival in Mexico. After the defeat of Silao, when my position was most precarious, he did not hesitate to recognize my government. Since then he has offered me the best advice, and given the greatest proof of sympathy; his conduct has been so kind toward me, that he has compromised his diplomatic position, and so soon as Juárez obtains the power, he will certainly hand him his passports. Don Pacheco is aware of all this, and yet, at this moment, when I am all but ruined, his conduct remains the same. It is on him alone—I confess it—I reckon to obtain from the enemy, in the probable event of a defeat, good conditions, not for myself, but for the unhappy population of this city, and the persons who, through friendship for me, have been most compromised latterly. Now the man whose treachery you denounce to me—treachery—I hasten to agree with you—so flagrant, that not the slightest doubt can exist about it: this man is not only a Spaniard and the bearer of a great name, but he was also personally recommended to me by the ambassador himself, whose good faith, I feel convinced, has been surprised, and who was the first person deceived in the matter. The principal object of don Pacheco's mission is, as you cannot be ignorant, to demand satisfaction for the numerous insults offered his countrymen, and reparation for the annoyances to which they have been exposed for some years."
"Yes, General, I am aware of that."
"Good. Now what would the ambassador think were I to arrest on a crime of high treason not only a Spaniard of the highest rank, but also a man whom he recommended to me? Do you suppose he would be pleased, after the numerous services he has already rendered me, and those which he may still be called on to render me, with such conduct on my part? I could, you will say, perhaps, take the letter and discuss the affair confidentially with the ambassador: but, my friend, the insult would be no less grave in that way, as you shall judge. Don Pacheco is the representative of a European government; he belongs to the old school of diplomatists of the beginning of the century: for these two reasons and others I pass over in silence; he holds us poor American diplomatists and governors in but slight estimation, he is so infatuated with his own merit and his superiority over us, that, were I foolish enough to prove to him that he has been deceived by a villain who has played with him with the most daring effrontery, don Pacheco would be furious, not at having been deceived, but because I had unmasked the deceiver: his wounded self-esteem would never forgive me the advantage which chance would gratuitously give me over him, and instead of a useful friend, I should make myself an irreconcilable enemy."
"The reasons you condescend to give me, General, are very good, I allow; but for all that, the man is a traitor."
"That is true, but he is no fool, far from it. If I fight tomorrow and gain the victory, he will remain attached to my fortunes, as he was at Toluca."
"Yes, he will be faithful till he finds a favourable opportunity for ruining you utterly."
"I do not say the contrary; but who knows?—perhaps we shall find, between this and then, the means of getting rid of him without noise or scandal."
The adventurer reflected for a moment.
"Stay, General," he said suddenly, "I believe I have found the means."
"First, allow me to ask you a question, and promise to answer it."
"I do promise."
"You know this man, he is your personal enemy."
"Yes, General," he answered frankly.
"I suspected it: the inveteracy you display in destroying him did not seem to me natural. Now let me hear your plan."
"The sole motive that holds you back, you told me yourself, is the fear of offending the ambassador of her Catholic Majesty."
"It is, indeed, the sole one, don Jaime."
"Well, General, suppose don Pacheco consented to abandon this man?"
"Could you succeed in obtaining that?"
"I will obtain more, if necessary; I will make him give me a letter, in which he shall not only abandon don Antonio Cacerbar, as he chooses to call himself, but also authorize you to try him."
"Oh, oh! That seems a rather bold statement, don Jaime," the President remarked, dubiously.
"That is my business, General; the main point is, that you shall not be in any way compromised, and remain neutral."
"That is my only desire, and you understand the serious reasons for it?"
"I understand them, General, and pledge you my word that your name shall not be even mentioned."
"In my turn, I pledge you my word as a soldier that if you succeed in obtaining this letter, the villain shall be shot in the back in the centre of the Plaza Mayor, even though I had only an hour's authority left me."
"I hold your pledge, General; besides, I have the blank signature you were kind enough to give me; I will myself arrest the villain when the moment arrives."
"Have you nothing more to say to me?"
"Pardon me, General, I have still a request to make."
"What is it?"
"General, I wish to accompany you on your expedition."
"I thank you, my friend, and gladly accept."
"I shall have the honour of joining you at the moment when the army sets out."
"I attach you to my staff."
"It is, no doubt, a great favour," he answered, with a smile, "but, unfortunately, it is impossible for me to accept it."
"Why not?"
"Because I shall not be alone, General—the three hundred horses who followed me at Toluca will again come with me; but during the battle my cuadrilla and myself will be at your side."
"I give up all idea of comprehending you, my friend; you have the privilege of performing miracles."
"You shall have a proof of that. Now, General, permit me to take leave of you."
"Go, then, my friend, I will keep you no longer."
After affectionately pressing the hand which the general offered him, don Jaime withdrew.
López was waiting for him at the palace gate; he mounted his horse, and at once returned home. After writing some letters, which he ordered his peon to deliver at once, don Jaime changed his dress, took certain papers locked up in a bronze casket, assured himself that the hour was not improper (it was hardly ten at night), then went out, and hurried toward the Spanish Embassy, from which he was at no great distance. The ambassador's door was still open; servants in handsome liveries were moving about the courtyard and vestibule; a porter was standing at the entrance of thezaguán, halberd in hand.
Don Jaime addressed him. The porter called a footman, and made the adventurer a sign to follow this man. On reaching an antechamber, an usher wearing a silver chain round his neck, approached don Jaime, handed him a card, sealed up in an envelope.
"Deliver this card to his Excellency," he said.
At the expiration of a few minutes the usher returned, and throwing open a door, said—
"His Excellency awaits your lordship."
Don Jaime followed him, passed through several rooms, and at length reached the cabinet in which the ambassador was. Don Pacheco advanced a few steps toward him, and bowed graciously.
"To what happy chance may I attribute your visit, caballero?" he asked him.
"I beg your Excellency to excuse me," don Jaime replied, with a bow, "but it was not in my power to select a more convenient hour."
"At whatever hour you may think proper to come, sir, I shall always be delighted to receive you," the ambassador made answer.
At a sign from his master the usher drew up a chair, and then retired. The two gentlemen bowed again to each other, and sat down.
"Now I am ready to listen to you," the ambassador said; "be kind enough to speak, my lord count—"
"I implore your Excellency," don Jaime eagerly interrupted, "to permit me to maintain my incognito even toward yourself."
"Very good, sir, I will respect your wishes," the ambassador remarked, with a bow.
Don Jaime opened his pocketbook, and took from it a document, which he handed to the ambassador.
"Will your Excellency," he said, "deign to cast your eyes on this royal order?"
The ambassador took the order, and began reading it with the most earnest attention; when he had finished he returned the paper to don Jaime, who folded it up and placed it again in his pocketbook.
"Do you demand the execution of this royal order, caballero?" the ambassador said.
Don Jaime bowed.
"Very good," don Francisco Pacheco remarked.
He rose, went to his table, wrote a few words on a sheet of paper bearing the arms of Spain and the Embassy stamp, signed it, sealed it, and then handed it open to don Jaime.
"Here," he said, "is a letter for his Excellency, General Miramón; will you take charge of it, or do you prefer it being sent by the Embassy?"
"I will take charge of it, with your Excellency's permission," he replied.
The ambassador folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and then handed it to don Jaime. "I regret, caballero," he said, "that I am unable to give you any other proofs of my desire to be agreeable to you."
"I have the honour to request your Excellency to accept the expression of my lively gratitude," don Jaime answered, with a respectful bow.
"Shall I not have the pleasure of seeing you again, caballero?"
"I shall do myself the honour of coming to pay my respects to your Excellency."
The ambassador rang a bell, and the usher made his appearance. The two gentlemen bowed ceremoniously, and don Jaime retired.
On the morrow the sun rose radiantly in floods of gold and purple. Mexico was rejoicing. The city had resumed its festive air; it seemed to have returned to the bright days of calmness and tranquillity: the whole population was in the streets; the motley crowd were hastening with shouts, songs, and laughter to the Paseo de Bucareli. Military bands, drums and fifes, could be heard playing in different directions. Staff officers, dressed in uniforms glistening with gold, and plumed hats, were galloping about to deliver orders. The troops left their barracks, and proceeded toward the Paseo, where they drew up on either side of the great avenue.
The artillery took up position in front of the equestrian statue of King Charles IV., whom the leperos insist on confounding with Fernando Cortez, and the cavalry, only eleven hundred strong, were, drawn up on the Alameda. The leperos and boys took advantage of the occasion for rejoicing by discharging firecrackers and squibs between the legs of the loungers. At about ten a.m. loud shouts were heard rapidly drawing nearer the Paseo. The people were greeting the President of the Republic.
General Miramón came up in the midst of a brilliant staff. The expression on the President's face was a glad one, he seemed to be pleased with these shouts of "Long live Miramón!" uttered as he passed, and which proved to him that the people still loved him and were displaying, after their fashion, their gratitude for the heroic resolution he had formed of risking a final battle on the open field, instead of awaiting the enemy within the city. The general bowed smilingly to the right and left. When he reached the entrance of the Paseo, twenty pieces of artillery thundered simultaneously, and thus announced his presence to the troops massed on the promenade. Then, rapid orders ran along the ranks, the soldiers fell in, the regimental bands began playing, the bugles sounded, the drums beat, the general passed slowly along the front, and the review began. The soldiers seemed full of ardour, the crowd had communicated their enthusiasm to them, and they shouted, "Long live Miramón!" heartily, as the President passed.
The inspection held by the general was short and conscientious. It was not one of those reviews which rulers now and then offer the people as an amusement. On leaving the city these troops were going to march straight into action, and the great object was to know whether they were really in a condition to face the foe, whom they would attack a few hours later. The general's orders had been scrupulously carried out, the troops were well armed, and they had a martial air which it was a pleasure to see. When the President had passed along the ranks, now and then addressing soldiers whom he recognized, or pretended to recognize, an old method which always succeeds, as it flatters the soldier's self-esteem, he stationed himself in the centre of the Paseo, and ordered several manoeuvres in order to gain an idea of the training of the troops. These manoeuvres, some of which were rather difficult, were executed with very satisfactory precision. The President warmly congratulated the commanding officers, and then the marching pass began; but, after passing in front of the President, the troops resumed their former positions, and established a temporary bivouac.
Miramón, not wishing uselessly to fatigue his troops by compelling them to march during the great heat, had resolved not to set out till nightfall. Up to that moment the troops would bivouac on the Paseo. Among the officers who composed the President's staff, and returned with him to the palace, were don Melchior de la Cruz, don Antonio Cacerbar, and don Jaime. Don Melchior, though he was rather surprised at seeing in military uniform a man whom he had hitherto only known by the name of don Adolfo, and whom he supposed to be engaged in smuggling transactions, saluted him with an ironical smile. Don Jaime duly returned his salute, and got away, as he was not at all desirous of entering into conversation with him. As for don Antonio, as he had never seen don Jaime with his face uncovered, he paid no attention to him.
While the President was returning to the palace, don Jaime, who had stopped on the Plaza Mayor, dismounted, and was joined by the count and Dominique, with whom he had made an appointment, though they would not have recognized him, had he not taken the precaution of walking straight up to them.
"Are you going with the army?" they asked him.
"Yes, my friends, I am: but I shall be back here: unfortunately the campaign will not be a long one. During my absence, redouble your vigilance, I implore you: do not let my sister's house out of sight; one of our enemies will remain in the city."
"Only one?" said Dominique.
"Yes; but he is the more formidable of the two; the one whose life you so clumsily saved, Dominique."
"Good; I know him," the young man answered, "he had better look out."
"And don Melchior?" the count asked.
"He will not trouble us," don Jaime answered, with a singular accent. "So, my dear friends, watch attentively, and do not allow yourselves to be surprised."
"If necessary we will make Leo Carral and our servants help us."
"That will be more prudent; and perhaps you would act wisely by lodging them in the house."
"We will attend to that."
"Now let us part, I have business at the palace. Good-bye for the present, my friends."
They separated. Don Jaime entered the palace and proceeded to the President's cabinet. The usher knew him, and raised no difficulty about letting him pass. Miramón was listening to the reports several scouts made him touching the enemy's movements. Don Jaime sat down and waited patiently till the President had finished his examination. At length the last scout completed his report and withdrew.
"Well," the President said, with a laugh, "have you seen the ambassador?"
"Certainly, General. Last night, after leaving you."
"And the famous letter?"
"Here it is," he said, handing it to him.
The general took the paper with a start of surprise, and rapidly perused it.
"Well?" don Jaime asked him.
"We have not only carte blanche?" he answered; "But I am even begged to act severely against this man; it is wonderful, on my honour. You have more than carried out my promises. How did you manage it?"
"I simply asked for the letter."
"You are the most mysterious man I know: it is now my turn to fulfil my promise."
"There is no hurry."
"Do you no longer wish to have him arrested?"
"On the contrary: but not till our return."
"As you please: but what shall we do in the meanwhile?"
"We will leave him under the orders of the Town Commandant."
"By Jove, you are right."
The President wrote an order, sealed it, and called the usher. "Is Colonel Cacerbar here?" he asked.
"Yes, Excellency."
"Let him carry this order to the Town Commandant."
The usher took the order and went away.
"That is done," said the President.
Don Jaime remained with the general till the hour for departure. At nightfall, the troops began defiling on the plaza, surrounded by the people, who shouted lustily. When all the troops had passed, the general left the palace, in his turn, with his staff. A large squadron of cavalry was drawn up in the plaza.
"Whose are those horsemen?" the general asked.
"My cuadrilla," don Jaime answered with a bow.
These horsemen, wrapped in long heavy cloaks, and wearing broad brimmed hats, only allowed the end of their beard to be seen. It was in vain that the President examined them, trying to distinguish their faces.
"You cannot recognize them," don Jaime said to him, in a low voice, "the beards are false, their dress is in itself a disguise; but, believe me, they will not fight the less bravely in action."
"I am persuaded of that, and thank you."
They set out. Don Jaime raised his sword, the horsemen wheeled and stationed themselves as a rear guard, they were three hundred in number. Differing from the Mexican cavalry, whose favourite weapon is the lance, they were armed with a carbine, the straight sabre of the French chasseur d'Afrique, and pistols in their holsters. At midnight the troops camped, orders were given not to light any bivouac fires. At about three in the morning a scout arrived. He was at once conducted to the President.
"Ah, ah! It is you, López?" the general said, on recognizing him.
"Yes, General," López replied, with a smile to don Jaime, who was seating by the President's side negligently smoking a cigarette.
"What news? Have you heard anything about the enemy?" Miramón asked.
"Yes, General, and quite fresh."
"All the better: where is he?"
"Four leagues from here."
"Good, we shall soon be there then. Which corps is it?"
"That of General don González Ortega."
"Bravo," the President said joyously, "you are a precious lad: here is something for you."
He placed several pieces of gold in his hand, "Give me the details," he continued.
"General Ortega is at the head of eleven thousand men, of whom three thousand are cavalry, and thirty-five guns."
"Have you seen them?"
"I marched with them for more than an hour."
"In what temper are they?"
"Well, General, they are furious against you."
"Good, rest yourself, you have an hour to sleep."
López bowed and withdrew.
"At last then," said Miramón, "we are going to meet face to face."
"How many troops have you, General?" don Jaime asked.
"Six thousand, of whom eleven hundred are cavalry and twenty guns."
"Hum," said don Jaime, "against eleven thousand! It is not quite the double my friend, courage will make up for the deficiency."
"May heaven grant it!"
At four o'clock the camp was raised: López acted; as guide. The troops, shivering with cold, were in a very unsatisfactory temper. At about seven they; halted, the army was drawn up in battle array in a very advantageous position and the guns placed in battery. Don Jaime drew up his horse behind the regular cavalry. Then, all arrangements being made, they breakfasted. At eight o'clock, what the Spaniards call atiroteobegan to be heard: the outposts were falling back before the heads of Ortega's columns, which were debouching on the battlefield selected by Miramón, and were exchanging shots with them.
Nothing would have been easier for the President than to avoid the battle, but he did not wish it, as he longed for the end. Miramón was surrounded by his surest lieutenants, Vélez, Cobos, Negrete, Ayestarán and Márquez. On perceiving the enemy he mounted his horse, rode along the ranks of his small army, gave his instructions in a loud sharp voice, strove to communicate to all the valiant ardor that inflated him, and raising his sword in the air, shouted—
"Forward!"
The battle at once commenced. The Juarist army forced to form under the enemy's fire, had a marked disadvantage. Miramón's troops, excited by the example of their young chief, who was only twenty-six years of age, fought like lions and performed prodigies of valour. In vain did the Juarists try to establish themselves in the position they had chosen; they were driven back several times by the vigorous charges of the enemy. In spite of their numerical superiority, the soldiers only advanced inch by inch, and were constantly driven back and broken by the President's troops.
Miramón's lieutenants, into whom his soul seemed to have passed, placed themselves at the head of the troops, drew them after them, and dashed into the thickest of the fight. One more effort, and the battle was gained, and Ortega forced to retreat. Miramón hurried up. He judged the position with an infallible glance. The moment had arrived to hurl his cavalry on the centre of the Juarists, and break it by a decisive charge. The President shouted: "charge!" The cavalry hesitated. Miramón repeated the order. The cavalry set out, but, instead charging, one-half went over to the enemy, and charged with couched lances, the other half that still remained faithful. Demoralized by this sudden desertion, the cavalry who remained faithful turned round, and dispersed in all directions. The infantry, on seeing themselves thus cowardly deserted, fought without energy.
Cries of "treachery, treachery!" ran along the ranks. In vain did the officers try to lead the soldiers again against the enemy. They were demoralized. Ere long the flight became general. Miramón's army no longer existed. Ortega was once again the victor but through a shameful treachery at the very moment when he had lost the battle.
We have said that don Jaime took up a position with his cuadrilla in the rear of Miramón's cavalry. Certainly, if three hundred men could have changed the issue of the battle, these brave horsemen would have accomplished the prodigy. Even when the rout was general, they continued fighting with unparalleled obstinacy against the Juarist cavalry, sent in pursuit of the fugitives. Don Jaime had an object in prolonging this unequal combat. As a witness of the unworthy treachery which had caused the loss of the battle, he had seen the officer who was the first to pass over to the enemy with his soldiers. This officer was don Melchior. Don Jaime recognized him, and swore to capture him. The adventurer's cuadrilla was not composed of common horsemen, as they had already proved and would prove again. In a few hurried words, don Jaime explained his intention. The horsemen uttered a yell of fury, and resolutely charged the enemy. There was a gigantic struggle of three hundred men against three thousand. The cuadrilla entirely disappeared, as if it had been suddenly buried beneath the formidable mass of its adversaries. Then the Juarists began oscillating. Their ranks became loosened. There a gap, and through this gap the cuadrilla passed, carrying off don Melchior in its centre—a prisoner.
"To the President! To the President!" don Jaime shouted, as he dashed with his whole band up to Miramón, who was vainly trying to rally a few detachments.
Miramón's lieutenants, who were all his friends, had not abandoned him. They had sworn to die with him. The cuadrilla made a last charge for the purpose of disengaging the general. Then, after taking one despairing glance at the battlefield, Miramón consented to listen to his friends, and retreat. Of his whole army, scarce a thousand men remained to him. The rest were dead, dispersed, or had gone over to the enemy.
The first moments of the retreat were terrible. Miramón was suffering from a fearful sorrow, caused not by his defeat, which he had foreseen, but by the cowardly treachery of which he was the victim. When they no longer feared being caught up by the enemy, the President ordered a halt, to enable the horses to breathe. Miramón, leaning against a tree, with folded arms and drooping head, maintained a stern silence, which his generals, standing near him, did not venture to break.
Don Jaime advanced, and, stopping two paces from the President, said: "General!"
At the sound of this friendly voice, Miramón raised his head, and offered his hand to the adventurer.
"Is it you?" he said, "My friend? Oh! Why did I so obstinately refuse to believe you?"
"What is done is done, General," the adventurer roughly answered. "We cannot recall it. But, before leaving the spot where we now are, you have a duty to fulfil—an exemplary act of justice to perform."
"What do you mean?" he asked with amazement.
The other generals drew nearer, no less surprised than he.
"You know why we were defeated?" the adventurer continued.
"Because we were betrayed."
"But do you know the traitor, General?"
"No, I do not," he said, passionately.
"Well, I do. I was there when he carried out his cowardly project, and was watching him; for I had been suspecting him for some time past."
"What matter? The villain cannot be reached now."
"You are mistaken, General, for I have brought him to you. I went to fetch him in the midst of his new comrades: and would have gone to the infernal regions to seize him."
At these words a quiver of joy ran along the ranks.
"By Heaven!" Cobos exclaimed; "the villain deserves quartering."
"Bring the man here," Miramón said, sadly; for his heart was painfully affected at being forced to act severely; "he shall be tried."
"That will not take long," said General Negrete; "he will meet with the death of traitors—shot from behind."
"We have only to prove his identity, and have him executed," Cobos added.
Don Jaime gave a signal, and don Melchior was brought up by two soldiers. He was pale and haggard; his torn clothes were stained with blood and mud: his hands were fastened behind his back. The officers formed a court martial under the presidency of General Cobos.
"Your name?" the latter asked.
"Don Melchior de la Cruz," he replied in a hollow voice.
"Do you acknowledge that you went over to the enemy, taking your command with you?"
He made no answer, but his whole body was agitated by a convulsive tremor.
"The court is certain of this man's treachery," Cobos continued; "what punishment has he deserved?"
"That of traitors!" the officers unanimously replied.
"Let it be carried into effect," said Cobos.
The condemned was forced on his knees. Ten corporals formed a firing party, and placed themselves six paces behind him.
General Cobos then approached the condemned man. "Coward and traitor," he said to him, "you are unworthy of the rank to which you were raised. In the name of all our companions I declare you to be degraded and rejected from our midst."
A soldier then removed the symbols of don Melchior's rank, and gave him a blow in the face. The young man uttered a tiger's yell at this insult, looked around him in horror, and made a movement to rise.
"Fire!" General Cobos shouted.
A detonation was heard; the criminal uttered a fearful cry of agony, and fell with his face on the ground, writhing in awful convulsions.
"Finish him!" Miramón said, pityingly.
"No!" Cobos cried, roughly; "Let him die like a dog. The more he suffers, the more perfect our vengeance will be."
Miramón gave a look of disgust, and ordered the boot and saddle to be sounded. The troops set out. Only two men remained with the wretched man, watching him writhe at their feet in atrocious agony. These two men were General Cobos and don Jaime. Don Jaime bent down to him, raised his head, and forcing him to fix his glassy eyes on him, said in a hollow voice—
"Parricide! Traitor to your country and your brothers, the latter avenge themselves today. Die, like the dog you are. Your soul will go to the fiend who awaits it, and your body, deprived of sepulture, will be the prey of wild beasts!"
"Mercy!" the wretch cried, as he fell back. "Mercy!"
A final convulsion agitated his body, his crisped features became hideous; he uttered a horrible yell, and stirred no more. Don Jaime kicked him. He was dead!
"One!" the adventurer said, hoarsely, as he remounted.
"What?" asked General Cobos.
"Nothing; it is an account I am going over," he replied, with a burst of mocking laughter.
When General Miramón arrived in Mexico, the news of his defeat was already public. Then a singular fact occurred. The clergy and the aristocracy, whom President Miramón had always supported and defended, and yet whose indifference and egotism had caused his ruin and entailed his destruction, now deplored the way in which they had behaved to the man who was alone able of saving them. If Miramón had wished in this supreme hour to make an appeal to the people, they would immediately have gathered round him, and it would have been easy for him to organize a vigorous defense. The idea did not even occur to him. He was disgusted with power, and only longed to give it up, and retire into private life. His first care, immediately he arrived in Mexico, was to assemble the diplomatic body, and beg its members to interpose for the sake of saving the city, by putting an end to a state of war which was no longer necessary from the moment when Mexico was prepared to open its gates to the Federal troops without a blow.
A deputation, composed of the ministers of France and Spain, General Berriozábal, the prisoner of Toluca, and General Ayestarán, a particular friend of Miramón, at once proceeded to General Ortega, in order to obtain an honorable capitulation.
Don Antonio de Cacerbar had tried to join the deputation. He had heard of the deplorable end of his friend, don Melchior, and a gloomy presentiment warned him that a similar fate impended over him. But the gates of the city were carefully guarded; no one could leave without a pass signed by the Town Commandant: and so, don Antonio was forced to remain in Mexico. A letter he received restored him a little hope, by allowing him a glimpse of a speedier conclusion than he believed of plans, whose execution he had so long been pursuing.
Still, as don Antonio Cacerbar was a very prudent man, and as the gloomy machinations to which he had devoted his dark existence had accustomed him to be constantly on his guard, while remaining at home, as he was requested to do in the letter he had received, he summoned a dozen distinguished cutthroats, and concealed them behind the tapestry, in order to be ready for any event.
It was the day of Miramón's return to Mexico, and about nine o'clock at night. Don Antonio had retired to his bedroom, and was reading, or rather, trying to read; for his troubled conscience did not allow him the necessary calmness of mind to take this innocent amusement, when he heard someone talking rather loudly in his anteroom. He at once rose and prepared to open his door, in order to enquire the cause of the noise he had heard, when this door opened, and his confidential servant appeared, acting as introducer of several persons. They were nine in number; six masked men wrapped insarapesand three ladies.
On seeing them, don Antonio gave a nervous start, but immediately recovering himself, he remained standing at the table, probably waiting till one of the strangers resolved on speaking.
This really happened.
"Señor don Antonio," one of them said, advancing a step, "I bring you doña María, Duchess de Tobar, your sister-in-law, doña Carmen de Tobar, your niece, and doña Dolores de la Cruz."
At these words, uttered with an accent of cutting irony, don Antonio fell back a step, and his face, was covered with an earthy paleness.
"I do not understand you," he said in a voice which he strove in vain to render firm, but which trembled.
"Do you not recognize me, don Horacio?" doña María then said in a soft voice; "Has grief so completely altered my features that it is possible for you to deny that I am the unhappy wife of the brother whom you assassinated?"
"What means this farce?" don Antonio exclaimed violently. "This woman is mad! And you, scoundrel, who dare to play with me, take care!"
The man to whom these words were addressed only replied by a laugh of contempt, raising his voice.
"You wish for witnesses to what is going to take place here, caballero? I presume you consider there are not enough of us to hear what is going to be said. Well, I consent; come out of your hiding places, señores; and you, caballeros, come."
At the same instant the tapestry was raised, the door opened, and some twenty persons entered the room.
"Ah! You are calling witnesses!" don Antonio said in a mocking voice. "Well, then, your blood be on your own head!" And turning to his men standing behind him, he shouted, "Upon these scoundrels; kill them like dogs!" and he leaped on a brace of revolvers which were laid on a table within reach.
But no one stirred.
"Down with their masks," the person who had alone spoken hitherto said, "they are unnecessary now. We must speak to this gentleman with uncovered faces."
With a gesture he removed the mask that covered his face: his companions imitated him. The reader will have recognized them already. They were don Jaime, Domingo, count Ludovic, Leo Carral, don Diego, and Loïck, the ranchero.
"Now, señor," don Jaime continued, "put off your borrowed name, as we have thrown away our masks. Do you recognize me? I am don Jaime de Bivar, your sister-in-law's brother. For twenty-two years I have been following you step by step, señor don Horacio de Tobar, watching all your movements, and seeking the vengeance which Heaven at length grants me, great and complete as I dreamed of it."
Don Horacio haughtily raised his head, and surveying don Jaime with a glance of sovereign contempt, he said to him—"Well, what next, my noble brother-in-law, for, as you desire, I give up all feigning, and consent to recognize you. What so grand and complete vengeance have you gained at the end of twenty-two years, noble descendant of the cid Campeador?—That of compelling me to kill myself—a fine profit. Is not a man of my stamp always ready to die? What more can you do? Nothing. Suppose that I writhe bleeding at your feet, I shall bear with me to the tomb the secret of this vengeance which you do not suspect, and all whose profit remains with me, for I shall leave you on my death a more profound despair than that which turned your sister's hair white in a single night."
"Undeceive yourself, don Horacio," don Jaime answered; "I know all your secrets: and, as for your killing yourself, that consideration only takes the second place in my plan of vengeance. I, too, will kill you, but by the hangman's hand. You shall die dishonoured, the death of the infamous—by thegarote, in a word."
"You lie, villain!" don Horacio exclaimed, with a roar like a wild beast; "I—I—the Duke de Tobar, noble as the king! I, who belong to one of the oldest and most powerful families in Spain, die by thegarote! Hatred has turned your brain—you are mad. I tell you, there is a Spanish ambassador in Mexico."
"Yes," don Jaime answered, "but that ambassador leaves you to all the rigour of the Mexican laws."
"He, my friend, my protector, who introduced me to President Miramón? It is not so, it cannot be. Besides, what have I, a foreigner, to fear from the laws of this country?"
"Yes, a foreigner who took service with the Mexican government, in order to betray it to the profit of another. That letter, which you demanded so earnestly from Colonel don Felipe, and which he refused to sell you, he gave me for nothing; and the compromising letters which were taken from you at Puebla, thanks to don Estevan, whom you do not know, but who is your cousin, are at this moment in Juárez' hands. Hence you are hopelessly lost in that quarter; for, as you are aware, clemency is not one of señor don Benito Juárez' striking virtues. Lastly, I also possess your most precious secret—that which you believed so well guarded. I know of the existence of doña Carmen's twin brother; I know also where he is, and can, if I like, suddenly bring him before you. See, here is the man to whom you sold your nephew," he added, pointing to Loïck, who was standing motionless by his side.
"Oh!" he muttered, falling back into a chair, and folding his arms in despair. "I am lost!"
"Yes, and most utterly lost, don Horacio," he said, contemptuously, "for not even death will be able to save you from dishonour."
"Speak, in Heaven's name!" doña María exclaimed, approaching her brother-in-law, "tell me that I am not mistaken, that don Jaime really spoke the truth; that I have a son, in short, and that this son is the twin brother of my beloved Carmen?"
"Yes," he muttered, in a low voice.
"Oh, thanks be to God!" she cried, with an expression of ineffable joy, "And you know where my son is? You will restore him to me, will you not? I implore you, reflect that I have never seen him, that I long for his caresses! Where is he? Tell me."
"Where he is?"
"Yes."
"I do not know," he answered, coldly.
The unhappy mother sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. Don Jaime approached her.
"Courage, poor woman!" he said to her, gently. There was a moment of mournful silence. In the room where so many persons were collected, nothing was to be heard but the sound of oppressed breathing and the stifled sobs of doña María and the two young ladies. Don Horacio advanced a step.
"My noble brother-in-law," he said in a firm voice, impressed with a certain grandeur, "request these caballeros to retire into the adjoining room; I wish to be alone with you and my sister-in-law for a few minutes."
Don Jaime bowed, and addressing the count, said, "My friend, be kind enough to conduct these ladies into the adjoining saloon."
The count offered his hand to the young lady, and went out without a word, followed by all the company, who silently withdrew at a sign from don Jaime.
Dominique alone remained with a flashing eye fixed on don Horacio. "As for me," he said, in a sullen voice, "as I do not know what is going to happen here, and fear a snare, I will not go except by the express order of don Jaime—it was he who brought me up; I am his adopted son, and it is my duty to defend him."
"Remain then, señor," don Horacio replied with a sorrowful smile, "since you may belong to our family." Don Jaime stepped forward at this moment. "Brother-in-law," he said to him, "that son, whom you carried off from my sister, the heir of the Dukes de Tobar, whom you believe lost, I saved! Dominique, embrace your mother. María! This is your son!"
"Mother!" the young man cried, bounding wildly towards her, "Mother!"
"My son!" doña María murmured, in a dying voice, and fell fainting in the arms of the child she had at length recovered.
Though resolute against grief, like all choice natures, joy had overcome her. Dominique raised his mother in his vigorous arms, and laid her on a sofa; then, with frowning brows, eyes full of fury, and clenched teeth, he slowly advanced toward don Horacio. The latter watched him approach with a shudder of terror. Falling back step by step before him until, at length, feeling the tapestry at his shoulder, he was involuntarily forced to stop.
"Assassin of my father, torturer of my mother," the young man said in a terrible voice, "coward and villain, my curses on you!"
Don Horacio bowed his head before this anathema, but drawing himself up again immediately, he said, "God is just! My punishment is beginning. I knew that this man was alive. By great search I had succeeded in finding again, under the name of Loïck, the wretch to whom I sold him at the house of his birth."
"Yes," said don Jaime, "and this Loïck, whom want led into crime, repenting of his fault, restored him to me."
"Yes, all this is true," don Horacio said, in a low voice. "This young man is really my nephew. He has the features and voice of my unfortunate brother." He hid his face in his hands, but recovering himself suddenly, he said, with firmness—
"Brother, you possess nearly all the proofs of the horrible crimes I have committed; and," approaching a table drawer, which he burst open, "here are the ones you want," he added, handing him a bundle of papers. "Unconsciously, perhaps, remorse had already entered my heart, here is my will, take it, it appoints my nephew my sole heir, while establishing his rights in an undeniable manner; but the name of de Tobar must not be sullied. For your own sake, and of that of your nephew, whose name is mine, do not carry out the cruel vengeance you meditated against me. I swear to you on my word as a gentleman, on the spotless honour of my ancestors, that you shall have full satisfaction for the crimes I have committed, and for the sorrowful existence to which I condemned my sister-in-law."
Don Jaime and Dominique remained gloomy and silent.
"Will you refuse me? Are you pitiless?" he anxiously exclaimed.
At this moment, doña María left the sofa on which her son had laid her: walking with a slow and mechanical step toward don Horacio, she placed herself between him, her brother and her son. Then, stretching out her arm with supreme majesty, she said in a voice marked with ineffable sweetness—
"Brother of my husband, vengeance belongs to God alone! In the name of the man whom I loved so dearly, and whom your cruel hand tore from me, I forgive you the frightful tortures you have inflicted on me, the nameless sorrows to which you condemned me, a poor innocent woman, for the last two and twenty years. I pardon you and may God be merciful to you!"
Don Horacio fell prostrate on his knees. "You are a saint," he said, "I am unworthy of forgiveness, I know it, but I will strive to expiate the crimes of my life as far as depends on myself by my death."
He then rose and tried to kiss her hand, but she recoiled with a start of horror.
"It is just," he said sadly, "I am unworthy to touch you."
"No," she replied, "since repentance has entered your heart."
And turning away her head, she offered him her hand. Don Horacio respectfully pressed his lips to it, and then turned to his brother-in-law and nephew, who had not moved.
"Will you alone," he asked sadly, "be pitiless?"
"We no longer have the right to punish," don Jaime said in a hollow voice.
Dominique hung his head and maintained a sullen silence, his mother approached him and gently seized his arm: at this contact the young man gave a start.
"What do you want, mother?" he asked.
"I have pardoned this man," she said imploringly, in a gentle voice.
"Mother," he replied with an accent of implacable hatred: "when I cursed this man, it was my father who spoke by my lips, and dictated the malediction from the bloody tomb in which this wretch laid him: the indelible brand will cling to him, and God will ask of him as of the first fratricide: Cain, what hast thou done with thy brother?"
At these words, uttered in an awful tone, don Horacio sank senseless on the floor.
Don Jaime and doña María recoiled from him with horror. He remained lying on the ground for some minutes, and the persons present did not make a movement to succour him: at length doña María leaned over him.
"Stay mother!" the young man exclaimed, "Do not touch that wretch! The contact would sully you!"
"I have forgiven him!" she said feebly.
Don Horacio, however, gradually recovered his senses, he rose slowly and his frightfully contracted features wore a strange expression of resolution.
He turned to Dominique.
"You insist," he said; "be it so; the reparation shall be striking."
He felt in the carefully locked drawer of a table, which he opened by means of a key hung round his neck by a gold chain, took something they could not see out of it, closed the drawer again, then walking with a firm step to the door, he threw it wide open.
"Come in caballeros, all of you!" he cried in a loud voice.
In a second the room was filled with people. The count de la Saulay and don Estevan alone remained in the sitting room with the young ladies, upon receiving a sign from don Jaime. Don Jaime then walked up to his sister and offered her his arm.
"Come," he said to her; "come, María, this scene is killing you. Your place is no longer here, now that you have forgiven this man."
Doña María offered but a slight resistance, and followed her brother, who led her into the sitting room, the door of which he closed after them. The rolling of a carriage was heard, in which the three ladies returned home under the count's escort. At the same moment a clash of arms was audible outside.
"What is that?" don Horacio asked with a start of terror.
Numerous footsteps approached, the doors were noisily opened, and soldiers appeared. At their head came the prefect of the city, the Alcalde mayor, and severalcorchetes.
"In the name of the law," the prefect said in a stern voice, "don Antonio Cacerbar, you are my prisoner: corchetes, seize this man."
"Don Antonio Cacerbar no longer exists," don Jaime said, as he threw himself between his brother-in-law and the police agents.
"Thanks," the latter said, "thanks for having saved the honour of my name. Señores," he said in a loud voice, pointing to Dominique, who was standing by his side, "this is the Duke de Tobar. I am a great criminal; pray to Heaven to pardon me."
"Forward, corchetes!" the prefect cried; "Seize that man, I tell you."
"Come on, then," don Horacio answered, as he quickly raised his hand to his mouth.
Suddenly he turned pale, tottered like a drunken man, and rolled on the floor without even a sigh. He was dead. Don Horacio had poisoned himself.
"Señores," don Jaime then said to the prefect and the Alcalde mayor, "your duty ceases with the death of the culprit; his corpse henceforth belongs to his family. Have the goodness to withdraw."
"May God pardon the unhappy man this last crime!" the prefect said; "We have nothing more to do here."
And after bowing ceremoniously, he withdrew with his followers.
"Gentlemen," don Jaime said in a sad voice, addressing the spectators, who were terrified at the strange and rapid close of this scene, "let us pray for the soul of this great criminal."
All knelt with the exception of Dominique, who remained standing, with his flashing eyes fixed on the corpse.
"Dominique," his uncle said to him gently, "does your hatred for him exist beyond the tomb?"
"Yes," he exclaimed in a terrible voice, "may he be accursed to all eternity!"
His hearers sprang up in horror: this awful curse had frozen the prayer on their lips.
In the meanwhile political events advanced with a fatal rapidity. The deputation sent to General Ortega returned to Mexico without obtaining any capitulation. The situation was becoming excessively critical: under the circumstances, General Miramón displayed extreme self denial; not wishing to compromise the city of Mexico further, he resolved to abandon it on the same night. He therefore proceeded to the ayuntamiento, to whom he proposed to appoint a temporary President or Alcalde, who, through his previous relations with the triumphant party, would be able to save the city, and maintain order in it. The ayuntamiento unanimously applied to General Berriozábal, who generously accepted this difficult office. His first care was to request the foreign ministers to arm their countrymen, who would take the place of the disorganized police, and watch over and guard the general safety.
During this time Miramón made all his preparations for departure. Not being able to take his wife and children with him on a flight whose incidents might be sanguinary, he resolved to entrust them to the Spanish ambassador, by whom they were received with all the respect to which their unhappy situation gave them a claim. Had he wished it, Miramón would have gone away without having any violence to apprehend from Juárez' partizans. Naturally good-hearted, if he was regarded as a political adversary, no one hated him as a personal enemy. Propositions to escape alone had even been made him on several occasions, but with that chivalrous delicacy which is one of the noblest traits of his character, he refused, for he would not at the last moment abandon to the implacable enmity of their opponents certain persons who had fought for him and compromised themselves on his behalf. This feeling was assuredly honourable, and his adversaries themselves were constrained to admire this generous conduct.