THE FATHER REVEALS HIMSELF.
Don Tadeo had passed the greater part of the night in giving orders for the clearing away of the hideous traces left by the combat. He had named the magistrates charged with the police of the city. After having assured, as far as possible, the tranquillity and safety of the citizens, and sent several couriers to Santiago, and other centres of population, to inform them of what had taken place, worn out with fatigue, sinking with sleep, he had thrown himself, clothed as he was, upon a camp bed, to take a little repose. He had slept scarcely an hour that agitated sleep which is the lot of men upon whom the destinies of empires rest, when the door of the chamber was pushed violently open, a strong light gleamed in his eyes, and several men surrounded him. Don Tadeo awoke suddenly.
"Who is there?" he cried, endeavouring to recognise, in spite of the light which dazzled his eyes, the persons who so inopportunely disturbed his repose.
"It is I," replied Don Gregorio.
"Well, but you do not seem to be alone?"
"No, Don Valentine accompanies me."
"Don Valentine!" cried Don Tadeo, starting up, and passing his hand over his brow, to drive away the clouds which still obscured his ideas; "why, I did not expect Don Valentine before morning, at soonest; what serious reason can have induced him to travel by night?"
"A powerful reason, Don Tadeo," the young man remarked, in a melancholy voice.
"In Heaven's name! speak, then!" cried Don Tadeo.
"Be a man! be firm! collect all your courage to bear worthily the blow you are about to receive."
Don Tadeo walked two or three times round the room, with his head cast down, and his brow contracted; then stopped suddenly in front of Valentine with a pale brow, but with a stoical countenance. This man of iron had subdued nature within him; as if aware of the rudeness of the shock he was about to receive, he had ordered his heart not to break—his muscles not to quiver.
"Speak!" he said, "I am ready to hear you."
While uttering these words his voice was firm, his features calm. Valentine, though well acquainted with his courage, was struck with admiration.
"Is the misfortune you are about to announce to me personal?" said Don Tadeo.
"Yes," the young man replied, in a tremulous voice.
"God be praised! Go on, then; I listen to you."
Valentine perceived that he must not put the soul of this man to too hard a trial; he determined to speak.
"Doña Rosario has disappeared," he said; "she has been carried off during our absence; Louis, my foster brother, in endeavouring to defend her, has fallen, pierced by two sword thrusts."
The King of Darkness appeared a statue of marble; no emotion was perceptible upon his austere countenance.
"Is Don Louis dead?" he asked, earnestly.
"No," Valentine answered, more and more astonished; "I even hope that in a few days he will be cured."
"So much the better," said Don Tadeo, feelingly; "I am indeed glad to hear that."
And, crossing his arms upon his broad chest, he resumed his hasty walk about the room. The three men looked at each other, surprised at this stoicism, which to them was unintelligible.
"Will you then abandon Doña Rosario to her ravishers?" Don Gregorio asked, in a reproachful tone.
Don Tadeo darted at him a look charged with such bitter irony, that Don Gregorio quailed beneath it.
"Were the ravishers concealed in the entrails of the earth, I would discover them, be they who they may!" Don Tadeo replied.
"A man is on their track," said Trangoil-Lanec, advancing; "that man is Curumilla. He will discover them."
A flash of joy for a moment shot from the eye of the King of Darkness.
"Oh!" he murmured, with clenched teeth, "beware, Doña Maria, beware!"
He at once had divined the author of the abduction of Rosario.
"What do you intend to do?" said Don Gregorio.
"Nothing, till the return of our scout," he replied, coldly; and then turning towards Valentine, added—"Well, my friend, have you nothing else to announce to me?"
"What leads you to suppose I have not told you all?" said the young man.
"Ah!" Don Tadeo replied, with a melancholy smile, "you know, my friend, that we Spanish Americans, however civilized we may appear, are still semi-barbarians, and, as such, horribly superstitious."
"Well?"
"Well, then, among other follies of the same kind, we place faith in proverbs; and is there not one which somewhere says, that a misfortune never comes singly?"
"Good Heavens! do you take me for a bird of ill omen, Don Tadeo?"
"God forbid, my friend! only search in your memory, I am sure I am not mistaken, and that you have still something else to inform me of."
"Well, you are right, I have other news to announce to you; whether good or bad, I leave you to judge."
"I knew there was something more behind," said Don Tadeo, with a sad smile; "go on, my friend, let us hear this news, I am listening to you."
"Yesterday, as you know, General Bustamente renewed the treaties of peace with the Araucano chiefs."
"He did."
"I cannot tell what fugitive or what scout gave them information of what had taken place here; but by evening they had learnt the defeat and capture of the General."
"I can understand that; go on."
"A kind of furious madness immediately seemed to possess them, and they held a great war council."
"In which, I suppose, they decided upon breaking the treaties; is not that it?"
"Exactly."
"And most likely determined upon war with us?"
"I suppose so; the four toquis cast the hatchet into the fire, and a supreme toqui was elected in their place."
"Ah! ah!" said Don Tadeo, "and do you know the name of this supreme toqui?"
"Yes; Antinahuel."
"I suspected as much," Don Tadeo cried, angrily; "that man has deceived us. He is a scoundrel only living by cunning, and whose devouring ambition leads him to sacrifice, when occasion offers, the dearest interests, and falsify the most sacred oaths. He has been playing a double game; he feigned to be the partisan of General Bustamente, as he appeared to be ours, building upon our mutual ruin his own fortunes and his future elevation. But he has thrown off the mask too hastily. By heaven! I will inflict a chastisement upon him, of which his compatriots shall preserve the remembrance, and which a century hence shall make them tremble with fear."
"Beware of the ears that, listen to you," said Don Gregorio, directing his attention by a look to the Ulmen, who stood quietly before him.
"Eh! what care I?" Don Tadeo replied, warmly; "if I speak thus, it is because I wish to be heard. I am a Spanish noble, and what my heart thinks my lips give utterance to; the Ulmen is welcome, if it seems good to him, to repeat my words to his chief."
"The Great Eagle of the Whites is unjust towards his son," replied Trangoil-Lanec, in a serious tone; "all Araucanos have not the same heart; Antinahuel is only responsible for his own acts. Trangoil-Lanec is an Ulmen in his tribe; he knows how to be present at a council of chiefs: what his eyes see, what his ears hear, his heart forgets, his mouth repeats it not: why should my father address such unkind words to me, who am ready to devote myself to restore to him her he has lost?"
"That is true; I am unjust, chief, I was wrong in speaking so; your heart is true, your tongue is unacquainted with falsehood. Pardon me, and let me clasp your loyal hand in mine."
Trangoil-Lanec pressed warmly the hand Don Tadeo held out to him.
"My father is good," he said; "his heart is at this moment darkened by the great misfortune that has fallen upon him; but let my father be comforted, Trangoil-Lanec will restore the blue-eyed maiden to him."
"Thanks, chief! I accept your offer, you may depend upon my gratitude."
"Trangoil-Lanec does not sell his services, he is repaid when his friends are happy."
"Caramba!" cried Valentine, shaking the hand of the chief with all his might, "you are a worthy man, Trangoil-Lanec—I am proud of being your friend."
Then, turning towards Don Tadeo, he said—"I must bid you farewell, for a time. I confide my brother Louis to your care."
"Why do you leave me?" Don Tadeo asked, warmly.
"I must. I see your heart is breaking, in spite of the incredible efforts you make to appear impassive. I know not the nature of the tie which binds you to the unfortunate girl who has been the victim of an odious crime; but I can see the loss of her is killing you—now, with the assistance of Heaven, I will restore her to you, Don Tadeo; I will, or I will die in the endeavour."
"Don Valentine!" the gentleman exclaimed, strongly moved, "what do you propose to do? your project is wild; I cannot accept such devotion."
"Leave it to me. Caramba! I am a Parisian—that is to say, as obstinate as a mule; and when once an idea, good or bad, has entered into my brain, it has no chance of getting out, I swear to you. I shall only take the time to embrace my poor brother, and set off immediately. Come, chief, let us set ourselves upon the track of the ravishers."
"Let us be gone," said the Ulmen.
Don Tadeo remained for a moment motionless, his eyes fixed upon the young man with a strange expression; a violent conflict appeared to be going on within him; at length nature prevailed, he burst into tears; and, throwing himself into the arms of the Frenchman, he murmured, in a voice choked by grief—
"Valentine! Valentine! restore me my daughter!"
The father had at length revealed himself; the stoicism of the statesman had sunk before paternal love!—But human nature has its limits, beyond which it cannot go; the moral shock which Don Tadeo had received, the immense efforts he had made to conceal it, had completely exhausted his strength, and he sank upon the slabs of the floor like a proud oak struck by thunder. He had fainted. Valentine contemplated him for a moment with pity and grief.
"Poor father!" he said, "take courage, thy child shall be restored to thee!"
And he left the room with hasty steps, followed by Trangoil-Lanec, whilst Don Gregorio, kneeling by his friend, gave him the most earnest and kind attentions for the recovery of his senses.