Since the invasion of the Araucanos, Crevel's hostelry had lost much of its old splendour. No longer was heard the clink of glasses or the smashing of window panes which the noisy customers broke while discussing their affairs. The bottles remained methodically arranged on the shelves that lined the shop, and the time when Crevel earned a few piastres a month, merely by counting as new the cracked ones which his customers threw at his head in the guise of a peroration, had passed away. The most utter vacuum had taken the place of the overflow.
At the most, not more than one or two passers-by came in during the course of the day to drink a glass of pisco, which they paid for, and went off again directly in spite of all the efforts and cajolery of the banian, who tried to keep them in order to talk of public affairs and cheer his solitude.
On the day after Leon Delbès' arrest, however, the house offered, at about ten in the evening, a lively appearance, which formed a strange contrast with the calmness and tranquillity which the state of war had imposed on it. The shop was literally encumbered with customers, who smoked without saying a word.
The silence was so religiously observed by them that it was easy to distinguish the sound of the rain falling outside, and the hoofs of the police horses which echoed dully on the pebbles or in the muddy pools which covered the soil.
At nightfall the worthy landlord, who had not seen his threshold crossed since the morning by a single customer, was preparing to shut up, with sundry execrations, when an individual suddenly entered, then three, then four, then ten—in a word, so large a number that he found it impossible to count them. All were wrapped in large cloaks, and had their broad-brimmed hats pulled down over their eyes so as to render their features unrecognisable.
Crevel, agreeably surprised, prepared to serve his guests, with the assistance of his lads; but though the proverb says that it is impossible to have too much of a good thing, the extraordinary number of persons who seemed to have given each other the meeting at his house assumed such proportions, that our landlord eventually became alarmed, as he did not know where to house the newcomers. The crowd, after invading the ground floor room, had, like a constantly-rising tide overflowed into the adjoining one, and then ascended the stairs and taken possession of the upper floors.
When ten o'clock struck, forty customers peopled the posada, and, as we said, not a single syllable was exchanged between them. Crevel comprehended that something extraordinary was taking place in his house; and he sought for means to get rid of these silent guests by affecting preparations for closing his inn, but no one appeared to catch his meaning. At this moment a sereno offered him the pretext which he was awaiting by shouting outside—
"Ave Maria purísima las diez han dado y llueve." The stereotyped phrase of the night watchman, though accompanied by modulations which would make a cat cry, produced no impression on the company. Hence Crevel resolved to speak.
"Gentlemen," he said aloud, as he stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, "it is ten o'clock, you hear, and I must absolutely close my establishment."
"Drink here!" the customers replied, in chorus—accompanying the sentence by dealing vigorous blows on the table with their pewter measures.
Crevel started back.
"Really, gentlemen," he tried to continue, "I would observe to you that—"
"Drink here!" the topers observed, in a voice of thunder.
"Ah! that is the game, is it?" the exasperated landlord cried, who felt all his courage return with his passion. "Well, we will see whether I am master of my own house."
He rushed towards the door, but had not taken a step in the street, when a newcomer seized him by the arm and unceremoniously thrust him back into the room, saying, with a mocking air—
"What imprudence, Master Crevel, to go out bareheaded in such weather! You will catch an awful cold."
Then, while the banian, confused and terrified by this rude shock, was trying to restore a little order in his ideas, his addresser, behaving just as if he were at home, and assisted by two customers, to whom he gave a signal, fastened the window shutters, bolted and locked the door as well as Crevel's lads could have done it.
"Now let us talk," said the newcomer, as he turned to the stupefied landlord. "Do you not recognise me?" he added, as he doffed his hat.
"Monsieur Wilhelm!" Crevel exclaimed.
"Silence!" the other remarked.
And he led the master of the posada into a retired corner of the room.
"Have you any strange lodgers here?" he asked him, in a low voice.
"No! if you know this legion of big demons who have collected in my house during the last hour—"
"Well! I am not alluding to them. I ask you whether you have any strangers lodging here. As for these gentlemen, you must know them as well as I do."
"From the cellar to the garret there is not a soul beside these gentlemen; but as I have not yet been able to see so much as the end of their noses, it was impossible for me to recognise them."
"These are all men belonging to the captain's band, you humbug!"
"Nonsense! In that case, why do they hide their faces?"
"Probably, Master Crevel, because they do not wish them to be seen; and now send your lads to bed, being careful to lock them carefully into their attic, and after that we will see."
"Then, something is going to be done?"
"When you are told you will know. In the meanwhile, execute my orders."
"All right! all right!"
And Crevel, without any further urging, went off to carry out the order he had received, with the promptitude of a man who knows how to obey when he hopes to makes a profit by his obedience. When he had left the room, Wilhelm turned to his comrades, who, during the conversation, had remained motionless and apparently indifferent to what was going on.
"Up, gentlemen!" he said to them.
They all rose.
"Call down your companions from upstairs," Wilhelm said again.
One of the men went upstairs, and two minutes after the whole of the smugglers were collected round the German.
"Are you all here?" he asked.
"Yes," they replied.
"Armed?"
"Yes."
"You know that we have assembled to deliver the captain?"
"Yes; we are ready."
At this moment three knocks were heard on the outside shutter.
"Wait," said Wilhelm. "Silence!"
He walked to the door.
"What do you want?" he said.
"Diego and Leon," a voice replied.
"Very good."
The door was opened, and Tahi-Mari entered.
"Diego!" the smugglers exclaimed, joyfully.
"Myself, lads," the half-breed answered, as he cordially pressed the hands offered him. "I have come to help you to deliver Leon."
"Bravo! long live Diego!"
"Silence, my friends! we must be prudent if we wish to succeed, for we have two expeditions to attempt: hence we must arrange our plans carefully in order to make no mistake. The first is against the Convent of the Purísima Concepción."
The smugglers made a face.
"The second," Diego continued, without appearing to notice the effect which the word convent had produced on the smugglers, "is against the Calabozo, where the captain is locked up."
"Good!" the smugglers said; "we are listening." He then explained to them all the details of his plan, and when everything was settled, they prepared to set out.
"Hilloh, though," Diego suddenly exclaimed, "what has become of Crevel?"
"He has gone to lock up his lads," Wilhelm replied.
"A good precaution; but he is a long time over it."
"Here he is," a smuggler remarked.
"Señor Don Diego!" Crevel said with amazement, on perceiving the ex-lieutenant of the band.
"Good evening, Crevel. I am delighted to find you in such good health."
"Thanks, caballero, but you are too obliging."
"Come, make haste, take off your apron, put on your cloak, and come with us."
"I?" the landlord said, with a start of terror.
"Yes, you."
"But how can I be of any service to you?"
"I will tell you. Captain Leon informed me that you stood well with the sisters of the Convent of the Purísima Concepción."
"Oh, oh! up to a certain point," Crevel answered.
"No false modesty. I know you possess the power to have the gates opened whenever you think proper, and hence I invite you to accompany us for that purpose."
"Oh, Lord! what can you be thinking of?" the startled banian remarked.
"No remarks; make haste, or by Nuestra Señora de la buena Esperanza, I will set fire to your hovel."
A heavy groan escaped from Crevel's breast as he prepared to obey. It was striking half-past ten by the cathedral dock. A second later the Voice of the sereno croaked close to the posada.
"Ave Maria Purísima, las diez y media han dado y señora," he cried.
"It seems that it has left off raining?" said Wilhelm. "All the better."
"Come, make haste," said Diego, with a sign to the German.
"I understand, lieutenant."
Wilhelm crept out of the posada, whose door was only on the jar. A moment later, a fall, a stifled groan, and a whistle were heard.
"Let us be off," Diego went on, pointing to the door, through which Crevel passed meekly. All the smugglers glided out of the inn, and walked a few yards behind each other, careful to remain in the shadow, and preserving the deepest silence. A few minutes after, they came up to Wilhelm, who was bearing on his shoulders a bundle, whose shape it was at the first glance impossible to recognise.
"Here is the sereno," he said; "what shall I do with him?"
And the German pointed to the bundle on his shoulders, which was nothing else, in fact, but the hapless watchman.
"Take him with us," Diego answered. "A passer-by might liberate him, and that would be enough to raise an alarm."
"Very good," said Wilhelm, and he followed the party.
The smuggler had simply waited for the sereno at the corner of a house, and when he saw him at a convenient distance, lassoed, gagged, and bound him, and threw him across his wide shoulders, no more or less than if he had been a bale of goods.
The band proceeded toward the Almendral. All the serenos they met underwent the same fate as the first; like him, they were prevented from stirring or shouting, and taken on a smuggler's back. Thanks to this clever manoeuvre, they reached the walls of the convent without obstacle. Eight serenos had been captured during the walk, and when they reached their destination Diego ordered his men to lay them at the foot of the wall which surrounded the convent. Then he turned to Crevel and said—
"Now, compadre, we have reached our destination; we are in front of the convent; and it is your business to get us inside."
"But, in Heaven's name, how do you expect me to do that? You do not reflect that I have no means to—"
"Listen," Diego said, imperiously. "You understand that I have no leisure to discuss the point with you. You will either introduce us into the convent—in which case this purse, containing two hundred and fifty gold onzas, is yours—or you refuse, and then," he added, as he coldly drew a pistol from his pocket, "I blow out your brains with this."
A cold perspiration broke out on Crevel's forehead, who knew Diego too well to insult him by doubting his intentions.
"Well?" the other asked, as he cocked the pistol. "Do not play with that thing, lieutenant; I will try my best."
"To give you a better chance of success, here is the purse," the half-breed said, throwing it to him.
Crevel seized it with a start of delight which it would be impossible to describe; then he walked toward the convent gate, while racking his brains as to how he should contrive to earn the money and run the least possible risk. A luminous thought crossed his brain, and it was with a smile on his lips that he raised the hammer to knock. All at once the half-breed stopped his arm.
"What is it?" Crevel asked.
"It has struck eleven long since; everybody is asleep in the convent, and so it would perhaps be better to try some other method."
"You are mistaken," the banian replied; "the portress is awake."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Hang it all!" the other replied, who had his plan, and was afraid that he must restore the money if Diego drew back from his resolution; "the convent of the Concepción is open day and night to people who come in search of medicines; so leave me alone."
"In that case, go on," said the leader of the party as he let go his arm.
Crevel did not allow the permission to be repeated, and, through fear of a fresh objection, hastened to let the knocker fall, which echoed noisily on the copper boss. Diego and his men were standing in the shadow of the wall. A moment after, the trapdoor was pulled back, and the wrinkled face of the sister porter appeared in the opening.
"Who are you, my brother?" she asked, in a sleepy voice; "and why have you knocked at our gate at such an hour?"
"Ave Maria Purísima!" Crevel said, in his most sanctified voice.
"Sin pecado concebida. Brother, are you ill?"
"I am a poor sinner whom you know, sister, and my soul is plunged in affliction."
"Who may you be, brother? I fancy I recognize your voice, but the night is so dark that I cannot see your face."
"And I sincerely hope that you will not see it," Crevel mentally remarked; and added aloud—"Oh, sister, you know me perfectly well. I am Signor Dominique, the Italian, and keep a locanda on the Port."
"Oh yes, I remember you now, brother."
"I fancy she is nibbling," Crevel muttered.
"What do you want, brother? hasten to inform me, in our Saviour's name; for the air is very cold, and I must continue my orisons."
"My wife and two children are ill, sister, and the reverend pater guardian of the Carmelites recommended me to come and ask you for three bottles of your miraculous water."
"Good gracious!" the old woman exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight; "three bottles!"
"Yes, sister; and I will ask your permission to rest myself a moment, for I am so fatigued that I can scarce stand."
"Poor man!" the sister porter said, pityingly.
"Oh! it would really be an act of charity, sister."
"Señor Dominique, pray be good enough to look about and see that there is no one in the street, for we are living in such bad times that it is impossible to take sufficient precautions."
"There is nobody, sister," the banian answered, as he made his comrades a signal to hold themselves in readiness.
"In that case, I will open."
"Heaven will reward you for it, sister."
The creaking of a key in a lock could be heard, and the door opened.
"Come in quickly, brother," the nun said.
But Crevel had prudently withdrawn, and made way for Diego. The latter seized the portress by the throat, and pressing her neck in both his hands like a vice, whispered in her ear—
"One word, wretch, and I kill you!"
Horror-struck by this sudden attack, the old woman fell back unconscious.
"Deuce take the old devil!" Diego said, angrily; "who can guide us now?"
He tried to recall the sister to her senses, but seeing that it was impossible to do so, he made a sign to his men, who had rushed into the convent after him, to gag her and bind her securely. Then, after leaving two smugglers as sentries at the gate, he took the bunch of keys with which the portress was entrusted, and prepared to enter the building occupied by the nuns.
It was no easy task to discover in this immense Thebaïs the cell occupied by Doña Maria—for our readers will have understood that the object of the expedition attempted by Diego, was to carry off that young lady. It remains for us now to explain what the half-breed intended to do with her, and by what reasons he had been urged to commit such a deed.
We must say in the first place, that Diego had the most lively desire to attach to his cause, Leon, whom he knew to be a man of bravery and energy, and was urged to do so not only because he intended to give him a command in the Araucano army, but also because he had no sooner parted with Leon after the altercation which they had while escorting the family of General Soto-Mayor, than he regretted the rupture, now sought every means in his power to effect a reconciliation with Leon, the only person in the world he loved.
The first thing he did for this object was to grant Leon what the latter had demanded so pressingly, the liberation of Don Juan, the old general's son. He knew that he must not dream of thwarting his friend's love for Maria, and awaited the end of this love in order to act, thinking that the captain, at the moment when he saw himself on the point of being separated from her whom he loved, would not recoil from the idea of carrying her off. When he afterwards came across him in the half-burned hacienda, and delivered him from the false position in which he was placed, Diego did not at all suspect that one of the females with him was no other than Maria; and great was his surprise when the result of his enquiries told him that Leon had himself conducted the young lady back to the Convent of the Purísima Concepción.
Certain that Delbès had only acted thus in obedience to the chivalrous promptings of his heart, and not wishing him to be the dupe of the honourable feelings which had dictated his conduct by losing Maria for ever, the half-breed resolved to restore her to him in spite of himself by simply carrying her off; and he calculated that the rumours and scandal produced by such an event, would prevent the Soto-Mayor family from offering any opposition to the marriage. We see that although this reasoning was brutal, it was to a certain extent logical.
Now, in order to carry off Maria, she must be found, and it was this that embarrassed Diego and his men, once that they had entered the convent by stratagem. At the moment, however, when they were beginning to lose all hope, an incident produced by their inopportune presence came to their assistance. The smugglers had spread through the courtyards and cloisters, careless of the consequences which their invasion might produce, and with shouts and oaths seemed desirous of searching the convent from cellar to garret.
The nuns, habituated to silence and calmness, were soon aroused to this disturbance, and believing that the fiend was the author of it, they hurriedly leaped from their beds, and, scarce clothed, ran to seek shelter in the cell of the abbess, while uttering heart-rending cries of terror. The latter lady, sharing the error of her sisters, had hurriedly dressed herself, and assembling her flock around her, advanced resolutely toward the spot whence the noise proceeded, holding in the one hand a holy water brush, and in the other her pastoral staff, with the intention of exorcising the demon. Suddenly she perceived the smugglers, but ere she could utter a cry Diego rushed toward her.
"Silence!" he said; "we do not intend you any harm; leave us alone."
Dumb with terror at the sight of so many armed men, the women stood as if petrified. All at once, Diego noticed a novice who was clinging convulsively to her companions.
"That is the girl!" he said to his men; "it is she whom I want!"
And joining actions to words, he seized Maria, while the other smugglers kept back the abbess and the other sisters, who were more dead than alive. Two men gagged the young lady, and prepared to carry her off.
"Let us begone!" said Diego.
"Villain!" the abbess at length exclaimed, thinking of the terrible account which she would have to render to General Soto-Mayor, "if you have the slightest fear of heaven, restore me that young lady!"
"Silence!" Diego replied.
And pointing a cocked pistol at the abbess, he forced her to be a spectatress of what was going on. At this moment, another young lady, with agitated features and garments in disorder, rushed toward the half-breed, and, clinging to him, shrieked despairingly—
"My sister!—give me back my sister!"
Diego turned, his eyes sparkled, and his face assumed an expression of hatred which made the nuns turn pale.
"Oh, oh!" he said, with a ferocious joy; "Inez here?"
"Yes, I am Inez de Soto-Mayor, and this is my sister; for mercy's sake, restore her to me."
"Your sister? Yes, I will restore her to you, but not yet;" and seizing the poor girl in his powerful arms, he raised her in his arms, and threw her over his shoulder.
"Now, let us be off, my men," he shouted to the smugglers, who stood round him gloomy and silent, as if ashamed of their cowardly conduct. Ten minutes later, no one remained in the convent but its peaceable inmates. Once outside, Diego ordered Wilhelm and Crevel to carry Maria to the posada kept by the latter, with instructions to deposit her in the green room. Then wrapping Inez in a poncho, he entrusted her to two other smugglers, whom he led into a little lane, where a man on horseback was waiting. This done, he rejoined his band, who advanced prudently towards the Calabozo, keeping in the shadow of the walls, and redoubling their precautions.
This time they would not have to deal with harmless women, but with soldiers. And let us say it in praise of the men whom Diego commanded, they were desirous of fighting with enemies capable of defending themselves, in order to expiate the disgraceful part which they had played in the affair of the convent.
A sentry was walking up and down in front of the prison, and a cavalry picket was stationed a short distance off. The smugglers had dispersed, and anxiously waited till Diego should form a decision. The latter was cursing the presence of the cavalry, and knew not what he had best do. All at once the prison gate opened: two torches gleamed in the obscurity, and Diego saw the Governor of Valparaíso come out, and, at his side, Captain Leon Delbès, with whom he was conversing.
The half-breed made a sign to his men to conceal themselves in the doorways, and walked alone toward the two gentlemen, while feigning the movements of a belated passer-by. The torch bearers had re-entered the prison, and the governor was mounting his horse, and taking leave of Leon.
"I thank you, general," the latter said, "for the eagerness you have displayed in setting me at liberty."
"On learning your arrest, captain, General Soto-Mayor hurried to tell me that he would be answerable for you, and to beg me to release you from prison, which I should have done sooner had I not been compelled to be absent from Valparaíso the whole day, for an affair of the highest importance."
"Pray believe, general, in my deep gratitude."
"Do not forget, if any misadventure were again to happen to you, to apply to me, and I will hasten to come to your aid."
Leon bowed his thanks for the last time, and the two gentlemen parted. The general, followed by his escort, returned to the palace, and Leon walked toward the Calle San Agostino. He had not gone twenty yards when he came face to face with Diego, who had turned back to meet him.
"Good evening, Leon," he said to him.
"Diego! you here! what do you want here, imprudent man?"
"I came to save you, but I see that you do not require my assistance, and I congratulate you on it."
"Thanks, brother!" Leon answered, with emotion. "As you see, I am free."
"In that case, I have only to withdraw with the men who joined me for this enterprise."
The smugglers had left their lurking places, and thronged round their captain.
"Thanks, my friends, thanks for what you intended to do. I shall not forget it."
"Now," Diego continued, "I have nothing more to do here, and so I am off. Good-bye, Leon; you will soon hear from me."
"What! are you going?"
"To join my friends. And you?"
"I intend to remain at Valparaíso."
"Good! I need not repeat that, whenever you like to join us, you have only to come."
"Thanks, brother! I have not forgotten it."
"Once again, good-bye."
"Let me at least accompany you."
"No; do you go to Crevel's, for your presence may be necessary there."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You will soon learn."
And, without further explanation, Diego proceeded to the spot where the smugglers who guarded Inez were waiting for him. The man on horseback dismounted. Diego took his place, and, throwing Inez across the saddle, he dashed off at full speed along the Santiago road, shouting—
"Each his share! I have mine!"
The two smugglers rejoined their comrades, and then the band divided in two parts: one moiety returned to Dominique, the Italian's, where they were lodged, while careful to hide from their landlord the compromising part which Crevel had thought proper to make him play in the drama at the convent. The other smugglers scattered about the obscure hostelries of which there were such a large number on the Almendral.
It was a frightful thing to see Diego's headlong gallop along the road from Valparaíso to Santiago. In the shadows of the night, the shapeless group of the horse, and the two human beings it bore, made the sparks fly out of the pebbles on the road. The animal's powerful hoofs bounded along, pounding everything that they settled on, while its outstretched head cleft the air. Its ears were erect, and from its open nostrils issued jets of steam which traced long white tracks in the darkness.
The horse dashed along, uttering snorts of pain, and biting between its clenched teeth the bit which was covered with foam, while blood and perspiration poured from its flanks, which were torn by the spurs of its impatient rider. And the greater its speed grew, the more Diego tortured it, and tried to make it go faster. The trees, the houses, and rocks disappeared with an extraordinary rapidity on either side of the road.
Inez, half dead at the moment when the half-breed dragged her from the convent, felt herself recalled to life by the movement which the horse imparted to her body. Her long hair trailed in the dust, and her eyes, raised to heaven, were bathed in tears of despair, grief, and powerlessness. At the risk of dashing out her brains against the stones, she made extraordinary efforts to escape from her ravisher's arms.
But the latter, fixing on her a glance whose expression revealed ferocious joy and lubricity, did not appear to notice the horror which he caused the maiden; or rather, he appeared to derive from it a source of indescribable pleasure. His contracted lips remained dumb, and only at intervals allowed a shrill whistle to pass, destined to redouble the ardour of his steed, which, exasperated by the pressure of its rider, hardly touched the ground, as it were, and devoured the space like the fantastic courser in the German ballad.
"Stay, child," Diego said, suddenly, as he raised Inez on his horse's neck, and compelled her to look at a country house which they were passing; "here is your father's house, the haughty General Soto-Mayor, call him to your assistance."
And a savage grin succeeded these words.
"Father!" the maiden cried, whom he had freed from her gag—"father!—father!"
This cry died away in hollow echoes, and the house disappeared again in the dizziness of this mad ride and the horse still galloped on. Suddenly Inez, collecting all her strength, leaped forward with such vivacity that her feet were already touching the ground, but Diego was on his guard, and ere she had regained her balance, he stooped down without checking his horse, and seizing the maiden by her long hair, he raised her, and placed her again before him. A sob burst from Inez' chest, and she fainted.
"Oh! you will not escape me," the half-breed shouted; "I have you, and no one in the world will be able to tear you from my hands!"
In the meanwhile, day had succeeded darkness; the sun rose in all its splendour, and myriads of birds saluted the return of the light by their joyous carols. Nature was awakening gaily, and the sky of a transparent azure, promised one of those lovely days which the blessed climate of South America has alone the privilege of offering.
A fertile and deliciously diversified landscape stretched out on either side of the road, and became blended with the horizon. The maiden's lifeless body hung on either side of the horse, following all the joltings which it imparted; with her head thrown back, and covered with a livid pallor, eyes closed, lips blanched and parted, teeth clenched, neck bare, and bosom heaving, she palpitated under the large hand of the Vaquero, which pressed heavily upon her.
At length they reached a devastated hacienda, in which a hundred Indians, painted for war, were encamped. Tahi-Mari gave a signal, and a horse was brought him. It was high time, for the one which had borne him from Valparaíso hardly halted ere it fell, pouring from mouth, nostrils, and ears a flood of black thick blood. Diego got into the saddle again, caught up the maiden in his arms, and prepared to continue his journey.
The Indians, who doubtless only awaited the coming of their chief, imitated his example, after throwing a few flaming logs upon the roof of the hacienda, in order to leave a trace of their passage. Ere long the whole band, at the head of which Diego placed himself, dashed forward, surrounded by the cloud of dust which they raised.
After a few hours' ride, whose rapidity surpasses all description, the Indians saw the lofty steeples of the capital of Chili standing out on the horizon, beneath a cloud of smoke and fog which hung over the city. The Araucanos turned slightly to the left, galloping through the fields, and trampling down the rich crops that covered them. In about half an hour they reached the first Indian sentries, and they soon found themselves within the camp of the twelve Molucho tribes.
Let us examine for a moment the state in which the war was. As we have already said, after several sanguinary combats, the Chilians, suddenly attacked by the Araucanos, who had invaded their territories on all sides at once, to the number of 200,000, had been, in spite of prodigies of valour, completely defeated and compelled to retreat.
The Moluchos had surprised their enemies without giving them time to assemble. The population of Chili was only composed, at that time, of two million and a half, scattered over a territory of vast extent, nearly as large as Germany. The towns are very remote from each other, and the means of transport are almost unknown. We can therefore understand the difficult position in which the besieged found themselves.
The Chilian army, which should be composed of 10,000 men, never consists of more than 7,000, scattered through distant garrisons; and for that very reason it is very difficult to assemble it under pressing circumstances. The soldiers, usually recruited by force, are, as a rule, thorough scamps, whom peaceful people fear as much as the Indians, for they know that when they pass into a province they plunder, burn, and violate absolutely as if they were in a conquered country. Hence the government only quarters a very small number in the great centres of population, removes them as far as possible, and subdivides them so as to be able to keep them under more easily, and never allows a whole regiment to remain in the same province at once.
What became of this organization when the Araucanos declared war? The Chilian government, attacked simultaneously on all sides, was unable, in spite of all its efforts, to collect a force sufficiently imposing to boldly face the Indians and drive them back. Hence, the only chance was to check their advance by harassing them and having outpost fights, by means of which it was hoped that they might be discouraged, and induced to return to their forest fastnesses.
These tactics were certainly good, and had often been employed successfully. This time again they would have, in all probability, succeeded, through the military science and discipline of the Spaniards, if they had not had to contend against this countless mass of Indians, and above all, if the latter had not been commanded by Tahi-Mari. The Molucho chief had not indulged in idle boasting when he told the Ulmens of the twelve nations that he was acquainted with all the resources of the Spaniards, and was certain of conquering them.
In fact, after dashing on Valdivia like a starving tiger on the prey it covets, his road as far as Santiago had been one triumphant progress, in which he overthrew, destroyed, and plundered everything, and left behind him a long sanguinary track, marked at intervals by numerous horribly mutilated Spanish corpses. Advancing with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other, this modern Attila wished to reconquer the Chilian territory by wading up to his knees in Spanish blood.
Nothing was sacred to him, neither age nor sex; old people, women and children, were pitilessly tortured. The twenty years which he had spent in traversing the various countries of America had proved of service to him, by familiarizing him with strategic ideas and the mode of employing military forces, through watching the manoeuvres and exercises of the Spanish armies, whose entire strength consisted in skilful tactics. Tahi-Mari's first care, therefore, was to employ the ideas which he had acquired in introducing a species of discipline in the ranks of the Moluchos.
The Chilians no longer understood the method of fighting the Indians. They no longer had the skirmishes to which they were accustomed, but real battles, fought according to all the rules of warfare, whose observance on the part of Araucanos beyond measure surprised them.
In this way victors and vanquished had arrived beneath the walls of Santiago. The Indians, after pushing on a reconnoisance even in the suburbs of the city, had boldly halted a short distance from its gates, and were bravely preparing for a storm. A frightful terror had seized on the inhabitants of Santiago. The richer emigrated in crowds, while the rest prepared, like the troops, to offer a vigorous resistance.
The President of the Republic had smiled disdainfully, when he saw from the ramparts the enemy getting ready for a serious attack; but when he had distinguished the perfect concord with which this multitude acted—with what skill the posts were established—taking advantage of the slightest accident of ground, and only operating with the most consummate prudence; selecting with discernment the weakest spots of the fortress, and holding the river Mapucho above and below the city, so as to let no succour or provisions reach it—his forehead became wrinkled with anxiety, and a deadly fear seized upon him; for he understood that his enemies were guided by an experienced chief, whose military genius would easily overcome the obstacles opposed to him, if time were granted him to take his measures and establish himself securely in the position which he occupied.
It was then that the President of the Republic, no longer doubting the imminence of the danger which the country was incurring, made an energetic appeal to the patriotism of the Chilians; an appeal to which they responded enthusiastically by hurrying up from all sides to range themselves under his banner. But time was needed for this succour to arrive, and to come the enormous distances that separated it from the capital. In order to gain this time, the president feigned a desire to treat with the Indians, and pave the way for negotiations.
The redskins had established their camp in the smoking ruins of the charming country houses which surrounded the city, and whose magnificent gardens, now, alas! devastated, seemed to make Santiago stand out from a basket of flowers. Nothing could be conceived so filthy, repulsive, and frightful as the appearance of this camp, forming a girdle round the city. It was hopeless to look for parallels or covered ways; not even a sentry could be seen watching over the common safety.
The camp was open on both sides, and at first sight it might have been supposed deserted, had not the dense smoke rising from the wigwams, made of branches and erected without any apparent order, proved that it was inhabited. A gloomy silence prevailed day and night in this strange camp, and no human being was visible there.
The Chilians, though thoroughly acquainted with the crafty character of their enemies, had allowed themselves to be trapped by this semblance of neglect and carelessness. Two days after the Moluchos sat down before the city, a strong Chilian patrol, consisting of two hundred resolute men, left the city about midnight; and, deadening the sound of their footsteps as far as possible, advanced into the very centre of the camp without being disquieted. Everybody seemed asleep, and no sentinel had given the alarm. The leader of the expedition, satisfied with the result which he fancied he had obtained, was preparing to return to Santiago to report the result of his reconnoisance to the besieged, when, on turning back, he found every line of retreat interrupted, and a countless swarm of Indians surrounding him.
The officer who had fallen into the trap did the only thing that was left him: he fell bravely at the head of the men whom he commanded. On the next morning, at sunrise, two hundred heads, scalped and horribly disfigured, were thrown by the Moluchos over the walls of Santiago. The Chilian Spaniards took the hint, and did not repeat the experiment.
When Tahi-Mari entered the camp with his band, the Indians flocked up tumultuously, and received him with loud yells of delight. He made them a sign of thanks, and without checking his pace, went toward his lodge, in the doorway of which Shounon-Kouiretzi, crouching on his heels, was gravely smoking. On seeing the commander he said—
"Tahi-Mari is a great chief; is he contented with his journey?"
"Yes," Diego replied, laconically. "My brother will watch at my door, and allow no one to enter."
"My brother can trust to me; no one shall enter." And the Indian began smoking again, impassively. Diego went in, carrying Inez, wrapped up in a poncho. After removing her bonds, he laid her on some sheepskins, thrown in a corner of the hut, which served him as a bed. Then he fetched a calabash of water and dashed the contents in her face, but Inez still remained motionless.
On seeing this, Diego bent down and devoted to her the greatest attention, in order to recall her to her senses; anxiously consulting her pulse, raising her in his arms, tapping her hands, and employing, in a word, all the means usual for restoring a fainting person. For a long time his efforts were sterile, and life seemed to have abandoned the poor girl for ever.
"Can she be dead?" Diego muttered.
And he began attending to her again. At length a sigh burst from Inez's bosom, she languishingly opened her eyes and uttered a few broken words in a faint voice. All at once she rose.
"Where am I?" she screamed.
Diego, without answering, fell back into a dark corner of the lodge, and fixed a serpent glance upon her.
"Where am I?" she repeated. "Maria! sister! how I am suffering! Oh, Heaven!"
Her memory gradually returned, and everything flooded back to her mind. Then a shudder of terror agitated all her limbs, her haggard eyes wandered around, and she perceived Diego.
"Oh, that man!" she said, as she hid her face in her hands. "I am lost! Great God, I am lost!"
Diego issued from his corner, and with his eyes fixed on her, slowly advanced toward her. Fascinated by the half-breed's sparkling glance, she fell back step by step, with her arms stretched out, and displaying signs of the most violent terror.
"Leave me, leave me!" she murmured. She thus reached the walls of the hut, clung to the intertwined branches, and stood motionless, while still looking at her persecutor, who walked toward her with an ironical smile.
"Leave me!" she repeated, unable to offer Diego any other resistance but her tears and her despair. But he was not the man to be affected.
"Leave you!" he answered; "do you fancy that I brought you all this distance to restore you innocent and pure to those who are dear to you? Undeceive yourself; henceforth you belong to me, and you will not leave this spot till you have nothing left to refuse me."
"Oh, mother, mother!"
"Your mother is dead, and no one can come to your assistance—do you hear; no one?"
"In that case, kill me," Inez cried, as she threw herself at the half-breed's feet.
"No! it is your honour, not your life, that I must have."
"But what have I done to you? Great Heaven, I am only a poor girl, and you cannot be so cruel to me without a motive."
"No, you have done nothing to me, and I feel for you neither hatred nor love; but you are the daughter of General Soto-Mayor. Your family dishonoured mine, and you will be dishonoured to expiate the crimes of your relatives."
"Oh, that is frightful; you will not act thus, because you know very well that I am innocent."
"Your ancestor dishonoured the wife of my grandfather, and she has still to be avenged."
"Mercy, mercy!"
"No! eye for eye, and tooth for tooth!—for you the shame, for me the vengeance!"
"In your mother's name, pity!"
"My mother!"
This word produced such an impression on the half-breed that he bounded with rage, and his face assumed a fresh expression of rage and fury.
"Ah, you speak to me of my mother! Mad girl! you do not know, then, that she found herself one day in the path of a Soto-Mayor, and that he brutally and cowardly plunged her into ignominy in order to satisfy a moment of brutal desire?"
"Oh, Heavens!" Inez sobbed.
"You do not know that while the poor woman was grovelling in despair at his feet, and imploring him, in the name of her God, to spare her, the villain laughed and caught her in his arms. Do you now understand why I forbid you invoking my mother's name?"
"Oh, I am lost!" Inez said, broken-hearted. "For the man who avenges himself on the child of his enemy has no heart."
"Yes, you are lost! But if you fancy that my revenge, in seizing you, has spared your father, you are mistaken, for he died by my hand."
"Woe! woe!" the girl shrieked, mad with grief.
"Yes, crushed by my blows, as I will crush all those of your race! No, you will not escape me! It is now your turn to cry and groan—your turn to implore in vain."
And, with the howl of a wild beast, the Indian, whose eyes were bloodshot, and his mouth foaming, rushed frenziedly at Inez and hurled her back on the sheepskins. Then ensued a horrible and nameless struggle, in which the groans of the victim were mingled with the wild panting of the savage. Inez resisted with the violence of despair, but soon, crushed by the half-breed's grasp, she lay helpless, left to the mercy of the man who had sworn her dishonour.
* * * *
"Brother," said Long-Scalp, appearing in the doorway, "two Spanish chiefs, followed by several lanceros have come to offer propositions of peace to the toqui of the twelve nations."
"Who are the chiefs?" Diego asked.
"General Don Pedro and Colonel Don Juan de Soto-Mayor," the Indian replied.
A smile of triumph played round the half-breed's lips.
"Let them come! let them come!" he said.
"Does my brother, Tahi-Mari, consent to receive them?"
"Yes," Diego continued, assuming his Indian stoicism. "My brother will assemble the great chiefs around the council-fire, and I will come thither."
Shounon-Kouiretzi bowed and retired.
"The betrothed and the brother. They have arrived too late," Diego said, so soon as he was alone.
And he left the hut, in order to preside at the council. Inez was motionless on the couch of Tahi-Mari, the great chief of the Araucanos.
After wrapping himself carefully in his cloak, Leon pensively went along the streets leading to Crevel's inn. Diego's last words incessantly reverted to his mind, and he asked himself why the Indian had recommended him so eagerly to proceed to the posada. Another peculiarity, also, kept his mind on the rack; he had seen Diego take from the hands of the people waiting for him a large parcel which had all the appearance of a human body. He had also fancied that he heard a dull and plaintive groan from this bundle. "What could it be?" Leon asked himself in vain.
At length he reached the Calle San Agostino. The door of Crevel's inn was ajar, and a bright light illumined the interior. Leon went in. Crevel, seated at his bar, was talking in a low voice with Wilhelm, who, with his arms leaning on the chimney, was probably telling him some improper anecdotes, for the two men were laughing most heartily. The unforeseen arrival of the captain alone arrested the flow of their hilarity, and they exchanged a meaning glance which did not escape Leon.
"Still up!" the latter said.
"We were waiting for you, captain," Crevel answered.
"Thanks; but I would advise you to extinguish your lights, for people might be surprised at seeing them so late."
"That is quite true," said the landlord.
"Give me the key of the green room," Leon continued. "I need rest, and I will throw myself on the bed for an hour."
Crevel and Wilhelm looked at each other again, and winked in a most peculiar way.
"Did you hear me?" Leon resumed.
"Oh, perfectly, captain," the landlord replied. "You can go up, the key is in the door."
"Very good; in that case give me a light."
"You do not require it, for there is one in the room."
"Ah! now I see that you really did expect me."
"Eh, eh, I am not the only one."
"What do you mean?"
"I? Nothing, captain. Go up and you will see."
"See what?"
"I beg your pardon, captain, I forgot that it did not concern me, and that—"
"Come, Master Crevel, will you have finished soon or not? Of whom and of what are you speaking? Make haste and explain yourself."
"Why of the little Señorita up there—by the gods!"
"A woman in my room! Tell me, Wilhelm, do you know what Crevel is talking about?"
"Well, captain, you must know that—well—since—"
"Ah! I really believe that it would have been wiser to go upstairs and look for myself, you scoundrels."
And he prepared to ascend the stairs.
"Ah!" he said turning round and addressing Wilhelm; "do not stir from here without my orders, my boy, for I may want you."
"That is sufficient, captain."
Leon went out of the room, and, as he did so, heard the landlord, who was fastening his door, say to the German—
"The captain is a lucky fellow."
"That comes of being good-looking, Señor Crevel," the other replied.
More and more puzzled, the captain continued to ascend, and soon stood before the door of the green room. Crevel had told the truth, the key was in it, and a light could be seen gleaming through the cracks. The greatest silence, however, prevailed inside. After a moment's hesitation, the young man turned the key and entered, but at the first step he took he stopped and uttered a cry of surprise.
A young lady, seated in a chair, and dressed in the white garb of the novices of the Purísima Concepción, was sobbing and hiding her face in her hands. At the captain's cry, the girl started and quickly raised her head—it was Maria de Soto-Mayor.
Leon dared not believe his eyes. Maria in the green room! How did she happen to be here in the middle of the night? What could have happened? By what concourse of extraordinary events could she expect his coming? Wild with delight at this sudden apparition, the captain fell on his knees, murmuring—
"Oh, niña! bless you for being here."
And he tried to seize her hand and press it to his burning lips. Maria leaped out of the chair in which she was seated, and flashed at him a glance of supreme disdain.
"Whence, sir," she said, "do you derive the audacity to present yourself thus to me?"
"Señorita!" Leon said, surprised and discountenanced by Maria's hurried movement.
"Leave the room, sir," she continued, "and spare me at least the shame of listening to your remarks."
"Good Heaven!" Leon exclaimed, who began to suspect some infamous machination; "what have I done that you should treat me in this way?"
"You ask me what you have done? in truth, I do not know whether I am dreaming? would you learn it from me, then, and pretend not to know?"
"Oh, Maria! I am ignorant of the meaning of this: but on my mother's soul, I swear that a thought of insulting you never crossed my mind."
"In that case, sir, how do you explain your unworthy conduct?"
"I do not know to what you are alluding."
"Your presence here, sir, is a sufficient proof that you expected to find me here, even if you thought proper to deny your share in the abominable scandal which you have caused. Ah, Leon! could I suppose that you would offer me this outrage by publicly dishonouring me?"
"Oh!" Leon exclaimed, "there is some infernal mystery in all this. Maria, once again I swear to you that your every word is an enigma, and I ask you how it comes that I find you in this inn room when I believed you at the Convent of the Conception?"
Maria felt her convictions shaken by the accent of truth with which these words were imprinted: still, being unable to believe in the smuggler's innocence—so long as it seemed to her impossible that any other than he should have dreamed of tearing her from the convent—she resumed, though in certainly a milder tone—
"Listen, Leon. Up to this day I believed you a man full of honour and loyalty. Now the action which you have committed is infamous; but tell me that it was suggested to you by some wicked creatures. Tell me that you have obeyed an evil inspiration, and though I could not forgive you, for you have ruined me, I would try to forget and pray Heaven to efface your image from my heart. For mercy's sake let us leave this den as quickly as possible, and do not prolong a captivity which covers me with infamy."
"Do you want to drive me mad? Good Heaven! what can have happened during the hour since I left prison?"
"Prison!"
"Yes, señorita, the day before yesterday, after the visit which I paid you in the general's company, I was arrested and taken to the Calabozo, whence I was released scarce an hour ago."
"Can that be true?"
"Yes, on my honour."
"But, in that case, on whose authority did the man act who entered the convent at the head of his bandits and carried me off by main force?"
"Oh, Heavens!" said Leon, "that man! Oh, I understand it all now. Tell me, Maria, did you recognise his features?"
"Stay—yes, yes, it was certainly he."
"Who?"
"Your friend, who accompanied us on the journey to Valdivia."
"Diego!" Leon exclaimed.
"Yes, Diego."
"Oh, woe upon him, then!"
And seizing the bell rope he rang violently. In about a quarter of an hour, Crevel thrust a startled face through the half-open door.
"Do you want anything, captain?"
"Yes; send up Wilhelm at once."
The banian disappeared. Leon, suffering from a furious agitation, walked up and down the room displaying all the signs of a passion on the point of exploding. His face was pale; his muscles were contracted, and his eyes flashed fire. Wilhelm came in. At the sight of him Maria gave a start of terror, but Leon reassured her.
"Fear nothing, señorita; you are under my protection."
The German understood that he had committed some folly.
"Wilhelm," Leon said to him, fixing on him a scrutinizing glance, "listen carefully to what I am going to say to you, and answer me."
"Very good, captain."
"Where did you go the day before yesterday, after my arrest?"
"To Rio Claro, to find the lieutenant."
"What did he say to you?"
"He told me that he wished to deliver you, and gave me the meeting for last night at ten o'clock."
"He came here? What next?"
"Next, captain," the German said, twisting his hat between his fingers. "Well, it was—"
"Speak the truth; I insist on it."
"Well, the whole band was assembled."
"And what did you do?"
"Lieutenant Diego told us that you loved a novice in the convent of the Purísima Concepción, that he had sworn to make her yours, and we must carry her off."
"And then?"
"Then he led us thither, and by his orders we carried off the señora and brought her here to Crevel's, while Diego went off with another girl."
"Another, do you say?"
"Oh, Heaven!" Maria exclaimed.
"But who was it? Will you answer?" Leon commanded him, with a rough shake.
"On my word, captain, it was Doña Inez, the sister of Doña Maria."
"Malediction!" Leon said, furiously.
"Oh, my sister!—my poor sister!"
"The infamous fellow!" the young man continued; "what frightful treachery! Henceforth all ties are broken between us. This, then, was the vengeance he coveted!"
Then, addressing the German, who was looking at him anxiously, he said—
"Wilhelm, there is not a moment to lose; assemble our men, and let them all be here within an hour."
"All right, captain."
And the German dashed down the stairs at a tremendous pace. Leon then turned to Maria, who was sobbing.
"Courage, Señora. I cannot take you back to the convent, where you would no longer be in safety; but will you join your father at Santiago?"
"Do not abandon me, Leon, I implore you," she answered. "You alone can protect me. Oh, my poor sister!"
"If I cannot save her, I will avenge her in an exemplary manner."
The maiden no longer heard him. Absorbed in her grief, she dreamed of the fatality which had weighed on her ever since the day when her eyes first met Leon, and derived from them the love which was destined to change the calm life which she led at the convent into such terrible trials. Still, on seeing near her Leon—whose eagerness in lavishing attentions on her was incessant—she gave him a look of ineffable sweetness, while asking his forgiveness for having suspected him of complicity in the outrage of which she had been the victim.
"Maria," Leon said in reply, as he covered her hand with kisses, "do you not know that I would joyfully sacrifice my life at a sign from you?"
"Forgive me, Leon, for I should die if your love ceased to be as noble and pure as your heart."
"My love, Maria, is submissive to your wishes; it is the most fervent worship—the purifying flame."
"Leon, my sister is perhaps at this time abandoned defencelessly to the insults of her cowardly ravisher."
"Let me first restore you to your father, and then I will do all in my power to save your sister."
"What do I not owe you for so much devotion?"
"Have you not told me that you loved me?"
"Yes, Leon, I love you, and am proud of it."
"Oh, thanks!—thanks, Maria! God will bless our love, and I soon hope to tell your father of it. May he but approve of it."
"Does he not owe to you the life of his children? Oh, when I tell him how I love you, and how generous your conduct has been, be assured that he, too, will love you."
While the two young people were indulging in dreams of happiness and the future, Wilhelm was executing the captain's orders, and Crevel's posada was again filled by the members of the band. An hour had not elapsed when he came to tell Leon that everything was ready for departure.
"In that case," Leon said to him, "all you have to do is to select the best horse you can find in the landlord's corral, and get it ready for señorita Maria."
"All right, captain," Wilhelm answered, who knew no phrase better fitted to display his obedience than the one which he habitually used.
"All along the road to Santiago you and Joaquin will keep constantly by her side, and watch her carefully so that no accident may happen to her. Do you understand?"
"Yes, captain."
"In that case make haste, and here is something to hasten your movements," Leon continued, taking from his pocket some onzas and handing them to the German.
"Thanks, captain. You can come down with the niña whenever you like, for we shall be ready in a moment."
Very shortly after, in truth, Wilhelm was standing before the inn door, holding two horses—one for Leon, the other for Maria. When left alone with the latter, the captain took from under his cloak a large black manta, which he threw over the young lady's shoulders, and pulled the hood over her face.
"Now," he said to her, "let us go."
"I follow you," Maria answered.
Leaning on the young man's arm, she cautiously descended the stairs, and found herself in the midst of the smugglers who had invaded the convent. But, knowing that she was in perfect safety by Leon's side, she manifested neither surprise nor fear. Assisted by him, she mounted her horse, seized the reins, and placed herself resolutely in the first rank between Wilhelm and Joaquin.
The captain, after giving a final glance at his band, to assure himself that everything was in order, leapt upon the back of his mustang, and gave the order to start. The smugglers then proceeded at a sharp trot across the Almendral in order to reach the Santiago road.
General Soto-Mayor had been hurriedly raised by the volunteers, whom the report of the two pistol shots had attracted to his room, a surgeon attached to the reinforcing column was summoned, and hastened to dress the old gentleman's frightful wounds. The terrible pain which the scalping caused him, and the immense quantity of blood he had lost, had plunged him into a profound fainting fit, from which it seemed impossible for him to recover. Upwards of three hours passed before he gave any signs of life. At length a faint sigh issued from his oppressed chest: he made a slight movement, his eyes opened slightly, and he muttered in a low and broken voice—
"Something to drink."
A servant brought him a bowl filled with a potion prepared by the doctor.
"Oh!" he said, a moment after, "my head is burning; what frightful pain!"
The surgeon begged him to be silent, administered a second potion, and a few minutes after the patient's eyes closed. He had fallen asleep.
"That is what I wanted," the surgeon said, as he felt his pulse and looked at him attentively.
"Well, doctor," an officer asked, "what do you think of the general's state?"
"I cannot say anything about it yet, gentlemen," he answered, addressing the persons who surrounded the old gentleman's bed; "his wounds are very serious, and yet I do not believe them mortal. We have numerous examples of scalped persons who have been perfectly cured. Hence it is not the wound on the head that alarms me the most, although it is the most painful. Tomorrow, as soon as I have removed the bandages, I shall be able to tell you what we have to fear or hope. Now, be kind enough to withdraw; thanks to the potion, the general is enjoying a calm sleep, but the slightest noise might disturb him. I will instal myself at his bedside, and not stir till he is either dead or saved."
Upon this the doctor dismissed all the persons who filled the room, drew an armchair up to the bed, sat down in it in the most comfortable posture, took a book from his pocket, and prepared to spend the night as well as he could in reading. The peons accompanying the general, on seeing their master in so pitiable a state, unloaded the baggage and carried it into the casa. Then each resumed possession of his lodging, while congratulating himself in his heart at being no longer compelled to expose himself to the dangers of war.
After the misfortune which occurred to the general, the officer who took the command of the volunteers in his place sent out heavy patrols in all directions in pursuit of the Indians; but their search had no result, and they returned one after the other without discovering the slightest sign which could put them on the track of the assassins. They were, therefore, obliged to give up for the present all thoughts of taking vengeance for the odious attack which had been committed on the person of General Soto-Mayor.
Still this affair exerted a salutary influence over the mind of the volunteers. At the sight of so terrible a fact as the one which had just occurred, they understood how necessary prudence was when engaged with enemies so invisible and formidable as the Indians. They, therefore, began subjecting themselves to the claims of discipline. In consequence, they ceased their cries and songs, and fulfilled their military duties much more seriously than they had hitherto done.
The rest of the night passed away calmly and peaceably, and with the exception of two or three false alarms which the sentries in their inexperience gave, nothing happened to disturb the tranquillity of the volunteers encamped under the walls of the Casa de Campos. At sunrise, when the country illumined by the hot beams had lost the sinister and gloomy aspect which darkness imparted to it, the Chilians, who, without confessing it, had been in a state of real terror, gradually regained courage and recommenced their gasconade, though it was moderated by the recollections of the night.
At about eight in the morning the general woke up, and though he was very low and his weakness was extreme, the long sleep which he had enjoyed seemed to have greatly relieved his sufferings. The doctor, after carefully counting his pulse, began removing the bandages which he had placed. The appearance of the wounds was excellent; the flesh offered no extraordinary signs of inflammation—in a word, the patient was going on as well as could be expected. The wounds were washed, fresh bandages put on, and another potion made the general fall back almost immediately into the lethargic sleep from which he had roused himself.
When midday came, the suppurating fever set in with great intensity. The old man uttered inarticulate cries, made fearful efforts to leap out of bed, and talked with extraordinary vivacity, making unconnected remarks, whose meaning it was impossible to understand. The names of Diego, of Tahi-Mari, and of the different members of his family incessantly returned. The general was evidently suffering from some horrible delirium aroused by the terrible scene of which he had been the victim on the previous evening. Four powerful men were scarce sufficient to keep him down in his bed.
From three to four o'clock in the afternoon an improvement took place; the fever relaxed, the sick man's eyes lost that frightful stare and expression of wildness which terrified his attendants. He recognised his domestics, the doctor waiting on him, and even the officers who surrounded him. Everything led to the hope that the general would be saved; such at least was the opinion of the surgeon, who expressed it loudly.
At about six o'clock, the officers whom the general had dispatched to Santiago, returned to the country house, bearing the instructions of the President of the Republic. The officer who commanded the expedition in the general's place, opened and read them. They were formal.
The president gave orders to General Soto-Mayor to proceed by forced marches on the capital, which was in the greatest peril: he added that he could send him no officers, in spite of his urgent request, and concluded by requesting the general to read the despatch to the soldiers, in order to make them understand how much he reckoned on their patriotism in answering the appeal of the menaced country.
The officer intrusted with the interim command obeyed the orders which he received. He assembled the troops, read to them in a loud voice the contents of the despatch, and made them a short speech, in which, while exalting the powerful help which they might afford to the inhabitants of Santiago, he asked whether he could really reckon on them. A universal and enthusiastic outburst was the response to the general's speech, and immediate preparations were made for the departure.
The commandant—who did not wish to abandon General Soto-Mayor defencelessly in his house, which was open to all comers, and might at any moment be invaded by the Indians—chose from among his volunteers fifty men, to whom he entrusted the defence of the casa, after exhorting them to behave properly, and placing them under the command of an alférez. Then, this duty fulfilled, he took leave of the surgeon, after recommending him to neglect nothing in restoring the general's health, and took the road to Santiago at the head of his volunteers.
The night passed without any incidents worthy of record. The men left in charge of the house had closed the gates and had entrenched themselves in the interior. Toward morning they heard the sound of a horse galloping at full speed. They had scarce time to notice the rider, who departed rapidly, after halting for an instant before the house. Some inarticulate sounds reached the ears of the sentries, but before the latter could think of challenging, horse and rider were a long distance off. It was Diego returning to Santiago with his victim.