"Do you fancy I am ignorant of it? My downfall is inevitable: this battle will only retard it for a few days. I must fall, because, in spite of the enthusiastic shouts of the mob—ever fickle and easy to deceive—what has hitherto constituted my strength, and has sustained me in the struggle I undertook, has abandoned me for ever. I feel that the temper of the nation is no longer with me."
"Perhaps you go too far, General! Two battles more like this one, and who knows if you will not have regained all you have lost?"
"My friend, the success of today's battle belongs to you. It was owing to your brilliant charge in the enemy's rear, that they were demoralized and consequently conquered."
"You insist on seeing everything in gloomy colours. I repeat again: two battles like this one, and you are saved."
"These battles I shall fight, my friend, if they grant me the time, be assured. Ah! If instead of being alone, blockaded in Mexico, I still had faithful lieutenants holding the country, after today's victory, all might be repaired."
At this moment the door of the cabinet was opened, and General Cobos appeared.
"Ah! It is you, my dear General," the President said to him, holding out his hand and suddenly reassuming a laughing air. "You are welcome. What motive procures me the pleasure of seeing you?"
"I implore your Excellency to excuse me for venturing to appear thus, without being announced; but I have to talk with you on serious matters, which admit of no delay."
The adventurer made a movement to withdraw.
"Stay, I beg of you," the President said, checking him by a sign. "Speak, my dear General."
"Excellency, the greatest disorder is prevailing on the Plaza among the people and the troops; the majority are noisily demanding that the officers taken prisoners today, may be immediately shot as traitors to the country."
"What?" the President asked, drawing himself up and turning slightly pale. "What is that you are saying, my dear General?"
"If your Excellency will deign to open the windows of this cabinet, you will hear the cries of death which the army and the people are raising in concert."
"Ah!" Miramón muttered. "Political assassinations committed in cold blood after the victory: I will never consent to authorize such odious crimes. No, a thousand times no! I at least will never have that said of me. Where are the captured officers?"
"In the interior of the palace, under a guard in the courtyard."
"Give orders for them to be at once brought into my presence: go, General."
"Ah, my friend," the President exclaimed with discouragement, as soon as he found himself alone with the adventurer, "what can be hoped from a nation so devoid of moral feeling as ours? Alas! What will the European governments think of this apparent barbarity? What a contempt they must feel for our unfortunate nation! And yet," he added, "this people is not bad-hearted, it is its long slavery which has rendered it cruel, and the interminable revolutions to which it has been constantly a victim for forty years. Come, follow me; we must put an end to this."
He then left the cabinet accompanied by the adventurer, and entered an immense saloon, in which his most devoted partizans were assembled. The President seated himself in a chair raised on two steps, prepared for him at the end of the room, and the officers who remained faithful to his cause, grouped themselves on either side of him. At an affectionate nod from Miramón the adventurer remained by his side, apparently indifferent.
A noise of footsteps and the rattling of arms were heard outside, and the captured officers, preceded by General Cobos, entered the hall. Although they affected calmness, the prisoners were rather anxious as to the fate reserved for them. They had heard the cries of death raised against them, and were aware of the ill feeling of Miramón's partizans towards them.
The one who walked first was General Berriozábal, a young man of thirty at the most, with an expressive head, firm and delicate features, and a noble and easy demeanour. After him came General Degollado between his two sons; then two colonels and the officers composing General Berriozábal's staff.
The prisoners advanced with a firm step toward the President, who on their approach, hastened from his chair and walked a few steps toward them, with a smile on his lips.
"Caballeros," he said to them with a graceful bow, "I regret that the circumstances in which we are now unfortunately placed do not permit me at once to restore you to liberty, but at any rate I will try, by all the means in my power, to render you comfortable during a captivity which, I hope, will not last long. Be good enough first to receive back the swords which you wield so bravely, and of which I regret having deprived you."
He made a sign to General Cobos, who hastened to restore to the prisoners the arms which he had taken from them, and which they received with a movement of joy.
"Now, caballeros," the President continued, "deign to accept the hospitality which I offer you in this palace, where you will be treated with all the respect that your misfortune deserves. I only ask your word as soldiers and caballeros not to leave it without my permission. Not that I doubt your honour, but in order to protect you from the attacks of people ill disposed toward you, and rendered savage by the sufferings of a long war: you are, therefore, prisoners on parole, caballeros, and at liberty to act as you please."
"General," Berriozábal answered in the name of all, "we thank you sincerely for your courtesy, we could not expect less from your well-known generosity. We give you our word, and will only employ the liberty you grant us within the limits you may think proper, promising you to make no attempt to regain our liberty, until you have freed us from our parole."
After a few more compliments had been exchanged between the President and the two generals, the prisoners withdrew to the apartments assigned to them. At the moment when Miramón was preparing to return to his cabinet, the adventurer quickly checked him, and pointed to a general officer, who was apparently trying to escape notice.
"Do you know that man?" he said to him in a low and trembling voice.
"Of course I know him," the President answered, "he only joined me a few days ago, and he has already rendered me eminent services: he is a Spaniard, and his name is don Antonio Cacerbar."
"Ah! I know his name," said the adventurer, "for I have known him a long time unfortunately: General, that man is a traitor!"
"Nonsense, you are jesting."
"I repeat, General, that man is a traitor: I am sure of it," he said forcibly.
"I beg you not to press the point, my friend," the general quickly interrupted him; "it would be painful to me; good night, come tomorrow: I wish to talk with you about important matters."
And after nodding kindly to him, the President returned to his cabinet, the door of which was closed upon him. The adventurer stood for a moment motionless, painfully affected by the President's incredulity.
"Oh!" he muttered sadly, "Those whom God wishes to destroy, he blinds! Alas! All is now over, this man is hopelessly condemned, his cause is lost."
He left the palace full of the most sinister anticipations.
The adventurer as we said, left the palace, the Plaza Mayor was deserted, the popular effervescence had calmed down as rapidly as it had risen: by the entreaties of certain influential persons, the troops had returned to their quarters: the leperos and other citizens equally respectable, who formed the majority of the insurgent mob, seeing that decidedly there was nothing to be done, and that the victims whom they coveted were effectually escaping from them, after a few cries and yells raised as a consolation, dispersed in their turn, and returned to the more or less ill-famed dens, always open in the low quarters of the city, and where they were sure of finding a shelter.
López alone remained firm at his post. The adventurer had ordered him to wait for him at the palace gate, and he did so. Still, as the night was dark, and the most profound obscurity had succeeded the radiant illumination of the evening, he waited with his hand on his weapons, with ears and eyes on the watch, lest, in spite of the vicinity of the palace, he might be surprised and robbed by some night prowler, who would not have been sorry of the windfall if the peon had not thus kept good guard. When López saw the palace gate opened, he understood that it could only be his master who thus came out alone, and he went up to him.
"Anything new?" the adventurer asked, as he put his foot in the stirrup.
"Not much," he answered.
"Are you sure?"
"Pretty well; still, now that I reflect, I fancy I just now saw someone I know leaving the palace."
"Ah! Was it long ago?"
"No, a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes at the most; but I am afraid I was mistaken, for he wore a costume so different from that in which I knew him, and then I had but such a slight opportunity of looking at him."
"Well! Whom did you fancy you recognized?"
"You will not believe me if I tell you it was don Antonio de Cacerbar, my old patient."
"On the contrary, for I also saw him in the palace."
"¡Ah demonio! In that case I regret that I did not listen to his conversation."
"What conversation—when, with whom? Speak or choke: come, will you explain yourself?"
"I will do so, mi amo: when he left the palace there were still some groups on the plaza; a man quitted one of these groups and approached don Antonio."
"Did you recognize the man?"
"Well, no, for he had a broad brimmed Vienna hat pulled down over his eyes, was wrapped up to the nose in a large cloak, and moreover, it was not much lighter than at this moment."
"Come to facts," the adventurer exclaimed impatiently.
"These two men began conversing in a low voice."
"And did you hear nothing?"
"No, only a few unconnected words, that was all."
"Repeat them, at any rate."
"Willingly: 'So he was there,' one of them said. I did not hear the other's answer. 'Bah! He would not dare,' the first continued: then they talked so low that I could not hear anything; the first said presently, 'We must go:' 'It is very late,' the other objected. I only heard the two words—'Palo Quemado': then, after exchanging a few whispered words, they separated; the first at once disappeared under the portales: as for don Antonio, he turned to the right as if intending to go to the Paseo de Bucareli; but he will have stopped at some house, for it is not probable that at such an hour he should dream of walking alone at a place of that description."
"That we will very soon find out," the adventurer remarked as he mounted; "give me my reins and follow me: the horses are not tired?"
"No, they are quite fresh," López said, as he handed the adventurer a double-barrelled gun, a brace of revolvers, and a machete; "by your orders I went to the corral, where I left our tired horses, I saddled Mono and Zopilote, now here, and returned to wait for you."
"You have done well—let us be off."
They rode away, crossed the deserted square, and after a few turnings, made doubtless with the intention of throwing out any spies who might be watching their movements, they at length went in the direction of Bucareli. In Mexico, after nightfall it is forbidden for anyone to ride along the streets, unless he holds a special permission very difficult to obtain; the adventurer, however, seemed to trouble himself very slightly about this prohibition, and indeed his boldness was perfectly justified by the apparent indifference of the celadores, a good number of whom they met on their passage, and who allowed them to gallop as they pleased, without venturing the slightest protest.
When the two riders found themselves sufficiently distant from the palace no longer to fear pursuit, each drew a black half mask from his pocket, and put it on his face; this precaution taken against any idlers who might recognize them in spite of the darkness, they resumed their ride. They soon reached the entrance of the Paseo de Bucareli; the adventurer stopped, and after striving to sound the gloom with a piercing glance, he gave a shrill and prolonged whistle. At once a shadow emerged from a gateway, where it was perfectly concealed, and advanced into the middle of the road; on reaching it, this shadow, or this man halted, and waited without saying a word.
"Has anyone passed here during the last three-quarters of an hour?" the adventurer said.
"Yes, and no," the stranger answered laconically.
"Explain yourself."
"A man came, stopped before the house there on your right, and rapped his hands twice; at the end of a moment a door opened, a peon came out leading a horse by the bridle, and holding a cloak lined with red under his arm."
"How did you see that on this dark night?"
"The peon carried a lanthorn; the man to whom I allude reproached him for his imprudence, smashed the lanthorn under his heel, and then threw the cloak over his shoulders."
"What dress did this man wear?"
"That of a cavalry general officer."
"Well, what next?"
"He handed his plumed hat to the peon; the latter entered the house, from which he came out a moment after with a Vienna hat, pistols, and a gun; he put spurs on the officer, who seized the weapons, mounted his horse, and departed."
"In what direction?"
"That of the Plaza Mayor."
"And the peon?"
"Re-entered the house."
"You are sure you were not seen by either?"
"Quite."
"That will do: watch—good-bye."
"Adieu!" and he returned to his dark post.
The adventurer and his peon turned round; they soon found themselves again on the Plaza Mayor, but crossed it without stopping. Don Jaime seemed to know what directions he should follow, for he galloped without hesitation through the streets; he soon reached the garita of San Antonio, which he passed without stopping: some market gardeners were already beginning to enter the city. On arriving about six hundred paces from the garita, at a spot forming a square, the centre of which is occupied by a stone cross, and from which six wide but badly kept roads radiate, the adventurer halted again, and as on the first occasion, gave a shrill whistle. At the same instant, a man lying at the foot of the cross, rose and stood motionless before him.
"A man has passed here," don Jaime said, "mounted on a skewbald horse, and wearing a hat with a goldgolilla?"
"The man has passed," the stranger answered.
"How long ago?"
"An hour."
"Was he alone?"
"Yes."
"Which direction did he take?"
"That," the stranger answered, stretching out his arm toward the second road on the left.
"That will do."
"Shall I follow?"
"Where is your horse?"
"In a corral near the garita."
"It is too far, I have no time to wait; farewell, watch."
"I will watch."
And he lay down again at the foot of the cross.
The two horsemen resumed their journey.
"He is really going to the Palo Quemado," the adventurer muttered; "we shall find him there."
"That is probable," López said with the utmost coolness.
"It is strange that I did not guess that sooner, for it is easy enough."
They galloped for about an hour without exchanging a syllable; at length they perceived a short distance from them a dark mass, whose black outline stood out from the less dense obscurity of the surrounding country.
"Here is the Palo Quemado," don Jaime said.
"Yes," was all that López answered.
They advanced a few paces, and then stopped. All at once a dog began barking furiously.
"¡Demonio!" don Jaime exclaimed; "We must pass, or that accursed animal will betray us."
They spurred their horses, and darted past at full speed. At the end of a few minutes the dog, whose barking had changed into hoarse growls, was quite silent. The horsemen stopped, and don Jaime dismounted.
"Hide the horses somewhere in the vicinity," he said, "and wait for me."
López made no answer, the worthy man was not given to talking, and did not care to lavish his words unnecessarily. The adventurer, after inspecting his weapons with the great care so as to be sure, in the probable event of his being obliged to use them, that they would not fail him, lay down on the ground like an Indian of the savannahs, and by an undulating, slow, and almost insensible movement, approached the rancho of the Palo Quemado.
When he was only a short distance from the rancho he saw what he had not noticed before, that some ten or a dozen horses were tied up in front of the house, and that several men were lying on the ground asleep near them. An individual, armed with a long lance, was standing motionless before the door, a sentinel, doubtless, posted there to watch over the general safety.
The adventurer stopped, the situation was a difficult one; the individuals, whoever they might be assembled in the rancho, had neglected no precautions in the event of an attempt being made to surprise them. Still, the greater the difficulties appeared, the more did the adventurer comprehend the importance of the secret he wished to surprise; hence, his hesitation was short, and he resolved, however great the risks he might run, to learn who were the members of this clandestine meeting, and for what motive they were assembled. The reader is sufficiently acquainted with the adventurer, whom we have introduced to him under so many names, to guess that now his resolution was formed to push on, he would not hesitate to do so.
This was really what happened: he merely redoubled his prudence and precautions, advancing inch by inch as it were, and crawling along the ground with the silent elasticity of a reptile. Instead of proceeding directly to the rancho he went round it, in order to assure himself that, with the exception of the sentry at the door, he had no fear of being discovered by any watchman concealed at the rear of the building. As the adventurer had foreseen, the rancho was only guarded in front. He rose and examined the neighbourhood as far as the darkness permitted it. A rather large corral, enclosed by a quickset hedge, joined the house: this corral appeared deserted. Don Jaime sought an opening through which he could step into the interior; after groping for a few minutes he discovered one wide enough to admit his passing. He went in.
Now the difficulties were slighter to approach the house; by the hedge he in a few instants almost reached the wall. What astonished him was not having been scented and tracked by the dog which had previously announced his approach so noisily.
This is what had happened: disturbed by the barking of the dog, and fearing lest it should reveal by its noise their suspicious presence to the Indians, who at this hour were proceeding to the city for the purpose of selling their wares, the strangers collected in the rancho, trusting in their sentinel to watch over their safety, ordered the ranchero to call the animal into the house, and chain it sufficiently far away that its barking might not be heard outside should it set off again.
This excessive prudence on the part of the temporary guests of the rancho permitted the adventurer to approach, not only without being discovered, but also without arousing suspicions. Although he was ignorant of this fact, don Jaime profited by it, thanking Providence in his heart for freeing him from so troublesome a watcher. While attentively examining the wall along which he was moving, he came to a door, which, by some inconceivable negligence, had been left ajar, and yielded to the slight push he gave it. This door opened on a very dark passage, but a slight ray of light which filtered through the badly-joined crack of a door revealed to don Jaime the spot where, in all probability, the strangers were assembled.
The adventurer stealthily approached, placed his eye to the crevice, and looked. Three men, folded in thick cloaks, were seated round a table covered with bottles and glasses, in a rather large room, as far as might be judged, and only lighted by one candle placed on a corner of the table. An animated conversation was going on between the three guests, who smoked, drank, and talked like men who feel sure of not being overheard, and, consequently, of having nothing to fear. These three men the adventurer at once recognized: the first was don Felipe Neri Irzabal, the guerillero colonel, the second, don Melchior de la Cruz, and the third, don Antonio de Cacerbar.
"At last," the adventurer muttered, with a quiver of joy, "I am about to know everything."
And he listened attentively. Don Felipe, who was speaking, seemed to be in an advanced state of intoxication; still, though his speech was thick, he did not wander as yet, but, like all half-drunken people, he was beginning to stray into abstruse arguments, and seemed to be supporting with indomitable doggedness a condition which he wished to impose on his two hearers, and to which they would not consent.
"No," he repeated, incessantly, "it is useless to press me, señores, I will not give you the letter you ask of me. I am an honest man, and have only one word,¡voto a brios!" and at each sentence he struck the table with his fist.
"But," don Melchior remarked, "if you insist on keeping this letter, though you have orders to deliver it to us, it will be impossible for us to carry out the mission with which we are entrusted."
"What credit," don Antonio added, "will be given us by the persons with whom we wish to come to an understanding, if we have nothing to prove to them that we are duly authorized to do so?"
"That does not concern me—each for himself in this world. I am an honest man, and must guard my interests as you do yours."
"What you are saying is absurd," don Antonio exclaimed, impatiently; "we risk our heads in this affair."
"Possibly, my dear sir; everybody does as he pleases. I am an honest man, I go straight before me. You will not have the letter unless you give me what I ask; give and give, that is all I know. Why did you not warn the general of today's affair, in accordance with your agreement with him?"
"We have proved to you that it was impossible, as the sortie was unexpectedly resolved on."
"Good, that! You will settle as you can with the General-in-Chief—I wash my hands of it."
"Enough of this nonsense," don Antonio said, drily; "will you, or will you not, deliver to this caballero or myself the letter which the President intrusted to you for us?"
"No," don Felipe answered, bluntly, "unless you give me an order for ten thousand piastres. It is really giving it away, but I am an honest man."
"Hum!" the adventurer muttered to himself, "An autograph of señor Benito Juárez is really precious. I would not bargain if he offered it to me."
"But," don Melchior exclaimed, "you will commit a scandalous robbery in acting thus."
"Well, what then?" don Felipe said, cynically. "I rob, you betray, we are well matched, that is all."
At this insult, so brutally hurled in their teeth, the two men rose.
"Let us go," said don Melchior, "this man is a brute, who will listen to nothing."
"The most simple plan is to go to the General-in-Chief," don Antonio added, "he will do us justice, and avenge us on this wretched drunkard."
"Go! Go, my dear sirs," the guerillero said, with a grin, "and luck go with you! I keep the letter—perhaps I shall find a purchaser. I am an honest man."
At this menace the two men exchanged a glance, while laying their hands on their weapons, but after a hesitation, no longer than a lightning flash, they disdainfully left the room. A few minutes after the rapid gallop of several horses could be heard outside.
"They are gone," the guerillero muttered, as he poured out a tumbler of mezcal, which he swallowed at a draught: "they are decamping, on my word, as if the fiend were carrying them off! They are furious. Stuff! I don't care, I have kept the letter."
While speaking thus to himself, the guerillero replaced his tumbler on the table. Suddenly he started; a man wrapped up to the eyes in the folds of a thick cloak was standing in front of him. This man held in either hand a revolver, the barrels of which were pointed at the guerillero's chest. The latter gave a sudden start of terror at this sight, which he was far from expecting.
"Hilloah!" he exclaimed, in a voice which trembled from emotion and terror, "Who is this demon, and what does he want? Why, hang it! I have fallen into a wasp's nest."
Terror had sobered him; he tried to rise and fly.
"One word, one gesture," the stranger said, in a hollow, menacing voice, "and I blow out your brains." The guerillero fell heavily back on the stool he had been sitting on.
Hidden behind the passage door, the adventurer had not lost a word of what was said. When don Melchior and don Antonio rose, don Jaime, not knowing by what door they would go out, hastily left the passage, glided into the corral, and waited in concealment behind the hedge. But, a few minutes after, as nothing had stirred, and no noise was heard, he ventured to leave his hiding place and enter the passage again.
Then he approached the door, and applied his eye to the crack through which he had been previously able to see all that went on in the room. The two men bad just gone; don Felipe was alone, still seated at the table, and drinking. The adventurer's resolution was at once formed: placing the blade of his knife between the crack against the bolt, he noiselessly opened the door, silently approached the guerillero, and revealed his presence to him in the somewhat startling way we described at the end of the preceding chapter.
Though the guerillero was brave, the sudden appearance of the adventurer, and the sight of the revolvers pointed at him alarmed him. Don Jaime took advantage of this moment of prostration; without uncocking his pistols, he walked straight to the door through which don Melchior and don Antonio had retired, secured it inside to avoid any surprise, then returned slowly to the table, sat down on a trunk, laid his pistols before him, and letting his cloak fall, said—
"Let us have a talk."
Though these words were pronounced in a rather gentle voice, the effect they produced on the guerillero was immense.
"El Rayo!" he exclaimed, with a shudder of terror on perceiving the black mask which covered the face of his singular visitor.
"Ah! Ah!" the latter said with an ironical laugh, "So you recognize me, my dear don Felipe?"
"What do you want of me?" he stammered.
"Several things," the adventurer replied; "but let us proceed regularly, as there is no hurry."
The guerillero poured out a tumbler of Cataluña refino, raised it to his lips, and emptied it at a draught.
"Take care," the adventurer observed to him; "Spanish brandy is strong, it easily rises to the head; it is better, considering what is going to pass between us, for you to retain your coolness."
"That is true," the guerillero muttered; and seizing the bottle by the neck, he hurled it against the wall.
The adventurer smiled, then continued while carelessly rolling a cigarette between his fingers—
"I see that you have a good memory, and I am glad of it; I was afraid you had forgotten me."
"No, no; I remember our last meeting at Las Cumbres."
"Exactly: do you remember how that interview terminated?"
The guerillero turned pale, but made no reply.
"Good: I see that your memory fails you, but I will come to its aid."
"It is unnecessary," don Felipe replied, raising his head and appearing to form a resolution; "as chance permitted me to see your features, you told me—"
"I know—I know," the adventurer interrupted.
"Well, I am going to keep the promise I made you."
"All the better," he said resolutely. "After all, a man can only die once; as well today as another day. I am ready to meet you."
"I am delighted to find you in such a warlike temper," the adventurer coldly answered; "restrain your ardour a little, pray: everything shall have its turn, I assure you, but that is not the point for the moment."
"What is it, then?" the guerillero asked with amazement.
"I am going to tell you."
The adventurer smiled again, rested his elbows on the table, and leaned over slightly to the guerillero.
"How much," he said, "did you ask your noble friends for the letter which señor don Benito Juárez ordered you to deliver to them?"
Don Felipe fixed on him a look of terror, and mechanically made the sign of the cross.
"This man is the fiend," he muttered with horror.
"No; re-assure yourself I am not the fiend, but I know a good many things about you more especially, and the numerous businesses you carry on. I know the bargain you made with a certain don Diego: moreover, if you desire it, I will repeat to you word for word the conversation which you held scarce an hour ago in this very room with the señores don Melchior de la Cruz and Don Antonio de Cacerbar. Now, let us come to facts: I wish you to give me—you understand me, I suppose?—Give me, and not sell me, the letter of señor Juárez which you have in your dolman, which you refused to the honourable caballeros whose names I mentioned to you, and surrender to me at the same time the other papers of which you are the bearer, and which I presume must be very interesting."
The guerillero had had time to recover a portion of his coolness, hence it was in rather a firm voice that he said—
"What do you intend doing with these papers?"
"That can be of very little importance to you when they are no longer in your hands."
"And if I refuse to surrender them?"
"I shall be obliged to take them by force, that is all," he answered calmly.
"Caballero," don Felipe said with an accent of dignity at which the adventurer was surprised, "it is not worthy of a brave man like yourself thus to menace a defenseless man. My only weapon is my sabre, while you, on the contrary, hold the lives of a dozen men at your disposal."
"This time there is an appearance of reason in what you say," the adventurer observed, "and your remark would be just were I about to use my revolvers in forcing you to do what I demand of you; but re-assure yourself you shall have a loyal combat, and my pistols will remain on this table. I will merely cross my machete with your sabre, which will not only re-establish the balance between us, but also give you a signal advantage over me."
"Will you really act thus, caballero?"
"I pledge you my word of honour; I am accustomed always to settle accounts honourably both with my enemies and my friends."
"Ah! You call that settling accounts?" he said ironically.
"Certainly; what other name can I employ?"
"But whence comes this hatred you bear me?"
"I do not hate you more than any other villain of your stamp," he said savagely. "In a moment of braggadocio you wished to see my face, so that you might recognize me hereafter. I warned you that the sight would cost you your life: perhaps I should have forgotten you, but today you again came across my track. You possess papers which are indispensable to me, and these papers I have resolved on gaining at any price. You refuse them to me; I can secure them by killing you, and I shall kill you. Now I grant you five minutes to reflect, and to tell me if you persist in your refusal."
"The five minutes you so generously grant me are unnecessary; my resolution is unbending: you shall only have the papers with my life."
"Very good; you will die," he said as he rose.
He took his revolvers, uncocked them, and laid on the table at the other end of the room; then returning to the guerillero and drawing his machete, he asked—
"Are you ready?"
"One moment," don Felipe answered, as he rose in his turn; "before crossing swords with you, I have two requests to make."
"Go on."
"Is the duel we are going to fight mortal?"
"Here is the proof," the adventurer answered, as he unfastened his mask and threw it from him.
"Good," he said; "the proof you give me is quite sufficient, and one of us must die. Let us suppose it is I."
"Any supposition is unnecessary, the fact is certain."
"I admit it," the guerillero answered coldly; "in the case of it being realized, do you promise me to do what I am about to ask of you?"
"Yes, on my honour, if it be possible."
"Thanks—it is possible; it is merely to be my residuary legatee."
"I will be so; go on."
"I have a mother and young sister, who live rather poorly in a small house situated not far from the canal de Las Vigas, in Mexico; you will find their exact address in my papers."
"Good."
"I desire them to be put in possession of my fortune after my death."
"It shall be done; but where is this fortune to be found?"
"At Mexico; all my funds are deposited with—and Co., English bankers. On the simple presentation of my voucher, the sum will be handed over to you in full."
"Is that all?"
"Not quite. I have about me several bills, amounting altogether to fifty thousand piastres, drawn on various foreign banks in Mexico. You will have them cashed, add the amount to the sums you have previously received, and the whole will be handed over to my mother and sister. Do you swear to do this?"
"I pledge you my honour."
"Good; I have confidence in you. I have only one more request to make of you."
"What is it?"
"This: we Mexicans are very clumsy hands with sabres and swords, whose use we are ignorant of, as duels are prohibited by law. The only weapon we can properly use is the knife: will you consent to our fighting with knives? Of course it is understood that we fight with the whole blade."
"The strange duel you propose to me is better suited for leperos and bandits than caballeros; but I accept."
"I am grateful to you for so much condescension, caballero, and now may Heaven protect me. I will do my best."
"Amen!" the adventurer said, with a smile.
This calm conversation between two men on the point of cutting each other's throats, this will, made so coolly, whose execution is confided, in the case of the death of one of the adversaries to the survivor, displays one of the strangest phases in the Mexican character; for these details are most strictly true. Although very brave naturally, the Mexican fears death, the feeling is innate in him: but when the moment arrives to risk his life, or even to lose it, no one accepts with greater philosophy, or, to speak more correctly, with greater indifference, this harsh alternative, or accomplishes with greater willingness a sacrifice which, among other nations, is never regarded without a certain degree of terror, end an instinctive nervous tremor.
As for duelling, the Mexican laws prohibit it even among officers. Hence emanate the numerous assassinations and snares laid to wash out insults received, which it is impossible otherwise to avenge. The leperos and lower classes alone fight with the knife.
This combat, which is perfectly regulated, has its laws, which must not be transgressed. The opponents make their conditions as to the length of the blade, so as to settle beforehand the depths of the wounds to be dealt. They fight with one inch, two inches, the half, or entire blade, according to the gravity of the insult. The combatants place their thumb on the blade at the agreed on length, and the thing is settled.
Don Felipe and don Jaime had unhooked their swords, which were now useless, and armed themselves with the long knife which every Mexican carries in his right boot. After taking off their cloaks, they rolled them round their left arms, carefully letting a small part hang down in guise of a curtain: it is with this arm, thus protected, that blows are parried. Then, the two men fell on guard, with their legs straddled and slightly bent, the body forward, the left arm half extended, and the blade of the knife concealed behind the cloak. The fight commenced with equal fury on either side. The two men turned and bounded round one another, advancing and falling back like two wild beasts. Eye to eye, with clenched teeth, and panting chest.
It was really a combat to death they were fighting. Don Felipe had a perfect knowledge of this dangerous weapon; several times his adversary saw the bluish flash of the steel dazzle eyes, and felt the sharp point of the knife slightly buried in his flesh; but, calmer than the guerillero, he allowed the latter to exhaust himself in vain efforts, waiting with the patience of a lurking tiger for the favourable moment to finish by one stroke.
Several times, harassed by fatigue, they stopped by common accord, and then rushed on each other with renewed fury. The blood flowed from several slight wounds they had dealt each other, and dropped on the floor of the room. All at once don Felipe gathered himself up, and leapt forward with the rapidity of a jaguar; but his foot slipped in the blood, he tottered, and while he was striving to regain his balance, the whole of don Jaime's blade was buried in his chest.
The unhappy man heaved a stifled sigh, a flood of blood poured from his mouth, and he fell like a dog on the ground. The adventurer bent over him, he was dead—the blade had passed through his heart.
"Poor devil!" don Jaime muttered, "He brought it on himself."
After this laconic, funeral discourse, he fell on the guerillero's dolman and calconciras, and seized all the papers about him. Then he took up his revolver, resumed his mask, and wrapping himself as well as he could in his cloak, which was cut to pieces, he left the room, reached the passage, went through the hole in the hedge unnoticed by the sentry who was still standing in front of the door, and on arriving at a certain distance from the Palo Quemado, he imitated the hoot of the owl. Almost immediately López appeared with the two horses.
"To Mexico," don Jaime cried, as he bounded into the saddle; "this time, I believe, I hold my vengeance."
The two riders started at full speed. The delight which the adventurer experienced at the unhoped for success of his expedition, made him forget the pain of the stabs, slight it is true, which he had received in his duel.
The first beams of day were beginning to tinge the sky with opaline tints at the moment when the two horsemen reached the garita of San Antonio. For some time past they had checked the rapid pace of their steeds, had taken off their masks, and re-established such order as they could in their clothes, which had been dirtied and damaged by the numerous incidents of their night's ride. At some paces from the garita they mixed themselves up with the groups of Indians proceeding to market, so that it was easy for them to enter the city unnoticed. Don Jaime proceeded straight to the house he inhabited in the calle de San Francisco, near the Plaza Mayor.
On reaching home, he dismissed López, who was literally falling asleep. In spite of the copious draughts which he had taken while his master was at the Palo Quemado, he gave him leave for the whole day, merely appointing a meeting with him the same evening, and then withdrew to his bedroom. This room was a real Spartan abode, the furniture, reduced to its simplest expression, only consisted of a wooden frame, covered with a cow hide, which served as a bed, an old saddle forming the pillow, and a black bearskin the coverlet; a table loaded with papers, and a few books, a stool, a trunk containing his clothes, and a rack filled with weapons of every description, knives, pistols, sabres, swords, daggers, machetes, guns, carbines, rifles, and revolves, completed with the horse trappings suspended from the walls, this singular furniture, to which we must add a washstand, placed behind asarapehung up as a curtain in a corner of the room.
Don Jaime dressed his wounds, which he had carefully washed with salt and water, according to the Indian custom, then sat down at his table, and began inspecting the papers he had found such difficulty in seizing, and whose possession had nearly cost him his life. He soon was completely absorbed by the task, which seemed greatly to interest him. At length, at about ten o'clock a.m., he left his seat, folded up the papers, placed them in his portfolio, which he thrust into a pocket of this dolman, threw asarapeover his shoulders, put on a Vienna hat, with a large goldgolilla, and left the house in this garb, which was as elegant as it was picturesque.
Don Jaime, it will be remembered, had given don Felipe his word of honour to be his residuary legatee. It was to fulfil this sacred promise that he went out. About six o'clock he returned home. His word was liberated. He had delivered to don Felipe's mother and sister the fortunes which a knife thrust had made them so promptly inherit. At the door of his house the adventurer found López, quite refreshed, who was awaiting him. The peon had prepared a modest dinner for his master.
"What news is there?" don Jaime asked him, as he sat down to talk, and began eating with good appetite.
"Not much, mi amo," he answered. "A captain, aide-de-camp to his Excellency the President, has called."
"Ah!" said don Jaime.
"The President wishes you to go to the palace, at eight o'clock, as he desires to see you."
"I will go. Well, what next? Have you heard nothing? Have you not been out?"
"Pardon me, mi amo, I went as usual to the barber's."
"And did you hear nothing there?"
"Only two things."
"Let me hear the first."
"The Juarists, it is said, are advancing by forced marches on the ciudad. They are only three days' journey distant—at least, so it is reported."
"The news is rather probable. The enemy must at this moment be concentrating his forces. What next?"
López burst into a laugh.
"Why are you laughing, animal?" don Jaime asked him.
"It is the second piece of news I heard that makes me laugh, mi amo."
"Is it very funny?"
"Well, you shall judge. It is said that one of the most formidable guerillero chiefs of Benito Juárez was found this morning killed by a knife in a room at the rancho of the Palo Quemado."
"Oh, oh!" said don Jaime, smiling in his turn, "And do they say how this unfortunate event occurred?"
"No one understands anything about it, mi amo. It would appear that the colonel—for he was a colonel—had pushed on as far as the Palo Quemado, while scouting, and resolved to spend the night there. Sentries were posted round the house, to watch over the safety of this chief, and no one entered the house, except two unknown horsemen. It was after their departure, when they had finished a long conversation with the colonel, that the latter was found dead in the room, from a stab which had passed through his heart. Hence it is supposed that a quarrel having broken out between the colonel and the two strangers, the latter killed him, but it was done so quietly that the soldiers, sleeping only a few yards off, heard nothing."
"This is, indeed, singular."
"It appears, mi amo, that this colonel, don Felipe Irzabal—such was his name—was a frightful tyrant, without faith or law, about whom numberless atrocities are reported."
"If that is the case, my dear López, everything is for the best, and we need not trouble ourselves any further about the scoundrel," don Jaime said as he rose.
"Oh! He will go to the deuce without us."
"That is probable, if he is not there already. I am going to take a walk about town till eight o'clock. At ten you will be at the palace gate, with two horses and weapons, in the case of our being compelled to take a ride by moonlight, like last night."
"Yes, mi amo, and I will wait till you come out, no matter at what hour."
"You will await, unless I send you a warning that I no longer require you."
"Good, mi amo, all right."
Don Jaime then went out as he had stated, took a short walk, but only under the portales of the Plaza Mayor, so that he might reach the palace exactly at the appointed hour. At eight o'clock precisely the adventurer presented himself at the palace gates. An usher was waiting to lead him to the President. General Miramón was walking, sad and pensive, up and down a small saloon adjoining his private apartments; on perceiving don Jaime, his face became more cheerful.
"You are welcome, my friend," he said affectionately offering him his hand; "I was impatient to see you, for you are the only man who understands me, and with whom I can talk frankly; stay, set down by my side, and let us talk, if you are willing."
"I find, you sorrowful, General; has anything annoying happened to you?"
"No, my friend, nothing; but you know that for a long time past I have not had much cause for gaiety, I have just left Madame Miramón, the poor woman is trembling, not for herself, dear and gentle creature, but for her children. She sees everything in dark colours, and foresees terrible disasters. She has been weeping, and that is why you find me sad."
"But why not, General, send Madame Miramón away from this city, which may be besieged any day?"
"I have proposed it to her several times, I have insisted by trying to make her understand that the interests of her children, their safety, imperiously demanded this separation, but she refused; you know how dearly she loves me. She is divided between the love she bears me, and her affections for her children, and she cannot make up her mind; as for me, I dare not force her to leave me, and hence my perplexity is extreme."
The general turned his head away, and subdued a sigh. There was a silence. Don Jaime understood that it was for him to turn the conversation to a subject less painful for the general.
"And your prisoners?" he asked him.
"Ah, that matter is all arranged, thank heaven; they have nothing now to fear as regards their safety, now I have authorized them to leave the city and visit their friends and relations."
"All the better, General, I confess to you that I was for a moment frightened for them."
"On my word, my friend, I may now say frankly that I was even more frightened than you, for in this affair it was my honour that was at stake."
"That is true, but come, have you any new plan."
Before answering, the general walked round the room, and opened all the doors to make certain that nobody was listening.
"Yes," he at length said, returning to don Jaime.
"Yes, my friend, I have a plan, for I wish to have an end to this once for all, I shall either succumb, or my enemies will be crushed for ever."
"Heaven grant you success, General."
"My victory of yesterday has given me back courage, if not hope; and I mean to attempt a decisive stroke. I have nothing at present to take into consideration; I mean to risk everything for everything, and fortune may again smile on me."
They then approached a table, on which was stretched out an immense map of the Mexican Confederation, with pins stuck into it at a great number of points.
The President continued:—"Don Benito Juárez, from his capital of Veracruz, has ordered the concentration of his troops, and their immediate march on Mexico, where we are shut in, the only point of the territory we still hold; alas! Here is General Ortega's corps composed of 11,000 veteran troops, it is coming from the interior, that is to say, from Guadalajara, picking up on its passage all the small detachments scattered over the country. Amondia and Gazza are coming from Jalapa, bringing with them nearly 6000 regulars, and flanked on the right and left by the guerillas of Cuéllar, Carvajal, and don Felipe Neri Irzabal."
"As for the last, General, you need not trouble yourself about him further: he is dead."
"Granted, but his band still exists."
"That is true."
"Now, these bands arriving from different directions simultaneously, will ere long, if we allow it, join and enclose us in a circle of steel; they form an effective strength of nearly 20,000 men. What forces have we to oppose to them?"
"Well—"
"I will tell you: by exhausting all our resources I could not bring together more than 7000 men, or 8000 at the most by arming the leperos, sir; a very weak army, you will allow."
"In the open country, yes, that is possible, General, but being in Mexico, with the formidable artillery you have at your disposal, more than 120 guns, it is easy for you to organize a serious resistance; if the enemy resolve to lay siege to the capital, torrents of blood will be shed ere they succeed in rendering themselves masters of it."
"Yes, my friend, what you say is true, but, as you know, I am a humane and moderate man, the city is not disposed to defend itself, we have neither the provisions nor means of obtaining them, since the country no longer belongs to us, and everything is hostile to us, except for a radius of about three leagues round the city. Do you understand, my friend, what would be the horrors of a siege endured under such disadvantageous conditions, the ravages to which the capital of Mexico, the noblest and most beautiful city in the New World, would fall victim? No, the mere thought of the extremities to which this hapless population would be exposed, lacerates my heart, and I would never consent to such a measure."
"Good, General, you speak like a man of honour, who really loves his country, I wish that your enemies could hear you express yourself thus."
"Why, my friend, those whom you call my enemies do not in reality exist, as I am perfectly well aware; overtures have been made me personally on several occasions, offering me very advantageous and honourable conditions: when I have fallen, I shall offer the singular peculiarity, rare in Mexico, of a President of the Republic, overthrown by people who esteem him, and bearing with him in his fall the sympathy of his enemies."
"Yes, yes, General, and not so long ago, had you consented to remove certain persons, whom I will not name, all would have been arranged amicably."
"I know it as well as you, my friend, but it would have been a cowardice, and I was unwilling to commit it; the persons to whom you allude, are devoted to me, they love me; we shall fall or triumph together."
"The sentiments you express, General, are too noble for me to attempt to discuss them."
"Thanks, let us quit this subject and return to what we were saying; I do not wish by my fault to entail the destruction of the capital, and expose it to the sanguinary horrors of pillage, which always follow the capture of a besieged city. I know Juárez's guerillas, the bandits who compose them would cause irreparable misfortunes if the city were handed over to them, they would not leave one stone on the other, be assured my friend."
"Unfortunately, that is only too probable, General, but what do you propose doing? What is your plan? Of course you do not intend to surrender to your enemies?"
"I had that thought for a moment, but gave it up: this is the plan I have formed, it is simply—to leave the city with 6000 men, the elite of my troops, march straight on the enemy, surprise and beat them in detail, ere the different corps have had time to effect their junction."
"The plan is really very simple, General; and in my opinion offers great chance of success."
"Everything will depend on the first battle. Gained—I am saved: lost—everything is hopelessly lost."
"God is great, General; victory is not always with the heavy battalions."
"Well, live and learn."
"When do you propose carrying out your plans?"
"In a few days; for I require time to prepare it. Before ten days I shall be in a position to act, and will immediately quit the city. I can reckon on you, I suppose?"
"Of course, General; am I not yours, body and soul?"
"I know it, my friend: but enough of politics at present. Pray accompany me to the apartments of madame Miramón; she eagerly desires to see you."
"This gracious invitation fills me with joy, General; and yet I should have liked to speak with you about a very important matter."
"Later, later, a truce, I implore you, to business. Perhaps it relates to a new defection, or a traitor to punish? During the last few days I have heard enough of such bad news to desire the enjoyment of a few hours' respite, as the ancient said, 'tomorrow serious business.'"
"Yes," don Jaime answered significantly, "and on the morrow it was too late."
"Well, I trust to God. Let us enjoy the present. It is the only blessing left us, as the future no longer belongs to us."
And taking don Jaime by the arm, he gently led him to the apartments of madame Miramón, a charming, timid, and loving woman—the true guardian angel of the general; who was terrified by her husband's greatness and was only happy in private life, between her two children.
At the end of an hour, don Jaime left the palace followed by López, went to the house in the suburbs, where he found the count and his friend, who wholly occupied with their love, and indifferent to the events that were going on around them, spent whole days with those whom they loved, enjoying with the happy carelessness of youth the present, which seemed to them so sweet, without wishing to think of the future.
"Oh, here you are at last, brother!" doña María exclaimed joyfully. "What a stranger you have grown!"
"Business!" the adventurer answered with a smile.
The table was laid in the centre of the room. The count's two menservants were preparing to serve, and Leo Carral, with a napkin on his arm, was waiting for the party to sit down.
"My faith, since supper is on the table," don Jaime said gaily, "I will not let you sup alone with these caballeros, if you will permit me to bear you company."
"What happiness!" doña Carmen exclaimed.
The gentlemen offered a hand to the ladies and led them to their seats, after which they sat down by their side. The supper began. It was as it should be among persons who had loved and known each other for a long time—that is to say, cheerful and full of pleasant intimacy. Never had the young ladies been so happy, for this unexpected pleasure charmed them. The hours passed rapidly, but no one thought of calling attention to the fact: all at once midnight struck on a clock standing on a console in the dining room The twelve strokes fell one after the other with a majestic slowness into the midst of the conversation, which they suddenly chilled and stopped.
"Good gracious!" doña Dolores exclaimed, with a slight start of terror, "So late!"
"How time passes!" don Jaime said carelessly. "We must now think of going."
They left the table; and the three friends, after promising to visit the three recluses as often and soon as possible, at length withdrew, leaving the ladies at liberty to retire. López was waiting for his master under thezaguán.
"What do you want?" the latter asked him.
"We are spied," the peon answered. He led him to the gate and noiselessly pulled back the bolt.
Don Jaime looked out. Exactly opposite the gate a man was standing, almost confounded with the darkness that prevailed in a hollow formed by the scaffolding of a house under repair. It would have escaped any less piercing glance than that of the adventurer.
"I believe you are right," don Jaime said to the peon. "In any case, it is urgent to make sure, and I will undertake it," he added between his teeth, with a terrible expression. "Change cloak and hat with me. You will accompany these caballeros. The man saw three persons enter, and he must see three depart. Now mount and be off."
"But," said Dominique, "I fancy it would be more simple to kill the man."
"That may happen," don Jaime answered; "but I wish to make certain beforehand that he is a spy: I do not care to commit a mistake. Do not be anxious about me, within half an hour I will join you again and inform you of what has taken place between this man and myself."
"Good-bye for the present, then," the count said, shaking his hand.
"Good-bye."
They then went out, followed by Leo Carral and the count's two servants. Doña María's old servant closed the gate with a bang, but was careful to open it again noiselessly. Don Jaime placed himself at the wicket, whence it was easy to watch all the movements of the supposed spy. At the noise caused by the departure of the young men, the latter eagerly bent forward, doubtless to remark the direction they followed, and then returned to his dark corner, where he resumed his statuesque immobility. Nearly a quarter of an hour passed ere the man made the slightest movement. Don Jaime did not lose him out of sight. At length he cautiously emerged from his hiding place, looked carefully around him, and reassured by the solitude of the street, he ventured to take a few steps forward; then, after a moment's hesitation, he boldly advanced toward the house, crossing the street in a straight line. Suddenly the gate opened and he found himself face to face with don Jaime. He made a sudden backward movement and tried to fly, but the adventurer seized his arm which he held as in a vice, and dragging him after him, in spite of the obstinate resistance he offered, he drew him up to a statuette of the Virgin placed in a niche above a shop, in front of which some tapers were burning, and then, with a backhander he knocked off his prisoner's hat and curiously examined his features.
"Ah, señor Jesús Domínguez," he said an instant after, in an ironical voice, "is it you? ¡Viva Dios! I did not expect to meet you here."
The poor wretch looked piteously at the man in whose power he was, but made no answer. The adventurer waited a moment, then seeing that his prisoner was decidedly determined, on not answering him, he said, as he gave him a rough shake:—
"Come, scoundrel, are you going to answer or no?"
The prisoner gave a hollow groan.
"It is El Rayo or the fiend!" he muttered in horror, as he looked despairingly at the masked face of the man who held him so securely.
"It is certainly one or the other," the adventurer continued with a laugh. "So you are in good hands and need not feel alarmed. Now be good enough to tell me how it is that you, a guerillero and highway robber, have become a spy and doubtless an assassin, if necessary, in this capital."
"Misfortunes, Excellency. I was calumniated. I was too honest!"
"You? Hang me if I believe a word of it. I know you too thoroughly, scoundrel, for you to try to deceive me. Hence decide to tell me the truth, and that at once, without further subterfuge, or I will kill you like the cowardlyzopiloteyou are."
"Would you have any objection, Excellency, to hold my arm not quite so tightly? You are twisting it so cruelly, that it must be broken."
"Very good," he said, loosing his hold; "but make no attempt to fly, for you would suffer for it. Now speak."
Jesús Domínguez, on feeling himself delivered from the adventurer's rough grasp, gave a sigh of relief, shook his arm several times, in order to re-establish the circulation, and then decided on speaking.
"I will tell you first, Excellency," he said, "that I am still a guerillero, and have risen to the rank of lieutenant."
"All the better for you. But what are you doing here?"
"I am on an expedition."
"On an expedition, alone, in Mexico? What! Are you laughing at me, villain?"
"I swear, on the share I hope in Paradise, that I am telling you the strict truth, Excellency. Besides, I am not here alone; my captain accompanies me, and it was by his express orders I came."
"Ah, ah! And who is this captain?"
"Oh, you know him, Excellency,"
"That is probable. But he has a name, I suppose?"
"Certainly Excellency. He is don Melchior de la Cruz."
"I suspected it. Now I can guess all. You are ordered to spy doña Dolores de la Cruz, I suppose?"
"Yes, Excellency."
"Good, what next?"
"Well, that is all, Excellency."
"Oh, no, it is not, my scamp; there is something more yet."
"But I assure you—"
"Ah, I see I must employ a grand method," he said, coldly, cocking a pistol.
"Why, what are you doing, Excellency?" he exclaimed in terror.
"I should think you can see that I am simply preparing to blow out your brains. Hence, if you wish to try and commend your soul to Heaven, make haste and do it, as you have only two minutes left to live."
"But that is not the way to make me speak," he said, with simplicity.
"No," the adventurer answered, coldly; "but it will make you hold your tongue."
"Hum," he said, "you employ such excellent arguments, Excellency, that it is impossible to resist you. I prefer telling you everything!"
"You will act wisely."
"Well, this is the matter in a few words. I was not only ordered to watch doña Dolores, but also the old and young lady with whom she resides, as well as all the persons who visit them."
"Hang it all! That was work enough for one man."
"Not too much, Excellency. They hardly receive any visits."
"And since when have you carried on this honourable trade, scoundrel?"
"About ten or twelve days, Excellency."
"So, then, you were one of the bandits who attempted to enter the house by main force?"
"Yes, Excellency, but we did not succeed."
"I know it. Are you well paid by your employer?"
"He has not given me anything yet, I must allow; but he has promised me fifty ounces."
"Oh! Promises cost don Melchior nothing. It is easier to promise fifty ounces than to give ten piastres."
"Do you think so, Excellency? Is he not rich?"
"He? He is poorer than yourself."
"In that case he must be badly off, for up to the present all my savings consist of debts."
"I really think you are a precious ass, and that you deserve what has happened to you."
"I! Excellency?"
"Hang it! Yes, who else? What, scoundrel! You attach yourself to a villain who has not a farthing—who is hopelessly ruined, instead of taking side with those who could pay you."
"Who are they, if you please, Excellency? I confess that I have very long fingers, and would serve such persons enthusiastically."
"I do not doubt it. Do you fancy that I am going to amuse myself by giving you advice?"
"Ah! if you would, Excellency, I should be delighted to serve you."
"You? Nonsense."
"Why not, Excellency?"
"Hang it! As you are the enemy of those whom I love, you must be my enemy too."
"Oh! If I had only known it!"
"What would you have done?"
"I do not know, but certainly I should not have played the spy on them. Employ me, Excellency, I implore you."
"You are fit for nothing."
"Try me, and you will see, Excellency; that is all I say."
The adventurer pretended to reflect. Jesús Domínguez anxiously waited.
"No," he said at last; "you are a man who cannot be trusted."
"Oh, how badly you know me, Excellency, when I am so devoted to you!"
The adventurer burst into a laugh.
"That is a devotion which has sprung up very rapidly," he said. "Well, I consent to make a trial: but suppose you deceive me?"
"It is enough, Excellency: I know you; you will be contented with me. What do you want?"
"You will only have to turn your dolman, that is all."
"Good, I understand, that is easy: my master will not take a step without your being warned of it."
"Good! Has not our dear don Melchior an intimate friend?"
"Yes, Excellency, a certain don Antonio Cacerbar. They are united like the fingers of a hand."
"There will be no harm in your watching him, too."
"I am quite willing."
"And as all trouble deserves payment, I will give you half an ounce in advance."
"Half an ounce?" he exclaimed, with a radiant look.
"And as you are in want of money, I will advance you twenty days' pay."
"Ten ounces! You will give me ten ounces, Excellency! To me! Oh! It is impossible!"
"It is so possible that here they are," he continued, taking them from his pocket, and placing them in Jesús' hand.
The bandit clutched them with a movement of feverish joy.
"Oh!" he exclaimed; "Don Melchior and his friend had better look out."
"Be adroit, for they are clever."