THE RETURN TO VALDIVIA.
Night was come; bending over the pillow of his friend, who was still buried in that lethargic sleep which generally follows great loss of blood, Valentine watched with anxious tenderness the changes which at times darkened his pale countenance.
"Oh!" he said, in a suppressed voice, clenching his hands with anger, "be thy assassins who they may, brother, they shall pay for their crime dearly."
The curtain of the tent was slowly raised, and a hand was laid upon the young man's shoulder. He turned quickly round; Trangoil-Lanec was before him. The face of the Ulmen was dark as night, and he appeared a prey to strong emotion.
"What is the matter, chief?" asked Valentine, terrified at his manner; "what has happened, in the name of Heaven? Have you any fresh misfortune to announce?"
"Misfortune incessantly watches over man," the chief remarked sententiously; "he should be ready to receive it at all hours, like an expected guest."
"Speak then!" the young man asked, in a firm voice; "whatever may happen, I will not falter."
"Good, my brother is strong, he is a great warrior, he will not suffer himself to be cast down. Let my brother hasten; we must be gone!"
"Be gone!" cried Valentine, with a nervous start; "and my friend?"
"Our brother Louis will accompany us."
"Is it possible to move him?"
"It must be," the Indian said peremptorily; "the war hatchet is dug up against the palefaces, the Aucas chiefs have drunk firewater, the genius of evil is master of their hearts; we must depart before they think of us; in an hour it will be too late."
"Let us depart then," the young man replied, sorrowfully, convinced that Trangoil-Lanec knew more than he was willing to tell, and that some great danger threatened them, since the chief, who was a man of tried courage, had let fall that mask of stoicism which scarcely ever abandons the Indian.
Preparations for departure were made in all haste, and were soon terminated. The hammock in which Louis reposed was solidly fastened to two long cross pieces of wood, and then, as it was, harnessed upon two mules without awakening him. The little band set out, employing the greatest precautions. They proceeded thus for more than an hour, without exchanging a word; the campfires of the Indians became every minute more faint in the distance, and they were, at least for the present, out of danger. Valentine approached Trangoil-Lanec, who rode at the head of the convoy.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Valdivia," the chief replied; "it is there alone that Don Louis will be able to recover in safety."
"You are right," said Valentine; "but shall we remain inactive?"
"I will do what my brother the paleface wishes; am I not his penni? where he goes I will go—his will shall be mine!"
"Thank you, chief," the Frenchman replied, with emotion; "you have a brave and worthy heart."
"My brother saved my life," said the Ulmen earnestly; "that life is no longer mine, it belongs to him."
Whether it was that the Araucano chiefs did not perceive the departure of the strangers, or that, as is more probable, they did not think it worthwhile to pursue them, the little troop was not interrupted in its flight—for what other name could be given to this night march amidst the desert? They advanced slowly, on account of the wounded man, who could not, in his state of weakness and prostration, have supported the shaking of a more rapid pace.
Towards three o'clock in the morning, a few fugitive and uncertain lights, which flitted across the horizon, and with difficulty pierced through the fog, which at that hour of the night envelopes the earth like a winding sheet, announced to the party that they were approaching the city, and should soon be there. At the end of three quarters of an hour, they reached the gardens which envelope Valdivia like an immense bouquet of flowers, from the centre of which it seems to spring up. The party made a short halt, in order not to attract observation on entering the city, through the state of the horses and mules. From that time they had nothing to fear from the Indians.
"Is my brother acquainted with the city?" Trangoil-Lanec asked.
"Why do you ask that question?"
"For a very simple reason. In the desert, by night or by day, I can serve as a guide to my brother; but here, in this toldería of the whites, my eyes close—I am blind; my brother must conduct us."
"The devil!" said Valentine, quite disconcerted; "in that sense I am as blind as you, chief; it was only yesterday that I entered the city for the first time: and," he added, laughingly, "the bullets then whistled round in such a merry fashion, I had scarcely time to look about me, or to ask my way."
"Don't let that disturb you, señor," said one of the peons, who had heard the few words pronounced by the two men; "only tell me where you want to go, and I will undertake to conduct you."
"Hum!" Valentine replied; "where I want to go to? Caspeta! I cannot exactly say; all places are alike to me, provided my friend be in safety."
"Pardon me, señor," the arriero replied, "if I dare——"
"Oh, dare! dare! there's a good fellow! your idea is probably excellent; for myself, I confess at this moment my mind is as empty as a drum."
"Why, señor, should you not go to the residence of Don Tadeo de Leon, my master?"
"Pardieu!" cried Valentine, vexed at his own want of thought. "On my word, you are something like a guide! I do not go to Don Tadeo, because, simply, I don't know how to find the place, that's all."
"I know, señor; Don Tadeo is most likely at the cabildo."
"By Jove! that's true again; my powers of thought seem to have been driven out of my head; but which is the way to the cabildo?"
"I will show you, señor."
"That's well! this is an intelligent lad. Let us be moving, my friend."
"Forward, then!" cried the arriero. "Ea! arrea mula!" he shouted to his beasts.
In a few minutes they debouched upon the Plaza Mayor, opposite the cabildo. The city was still and silent; here and there traces of the sanguinary contest of the preceding day, heaps of broken furniture, or large trenches cut in the ground, gave evidence of the ravages caused by the insurrection. A soldier was marching with slow steps in front of the cabildo. At sight of the little party, he stopped, and cocked his musket.
"Who goes there?" he shouted sharply.
"La Patria!" Valentine replied.
"Go on, then!" said the soldier.
"Hum!" the young man murmured; "it appears not to be such an easy matter to obtain entrance; never mind," he added, "let us try. My friend," he said, in an insinuating voice, to the sentinel, who stood motionless before him; "we have business in the palace."
"Have you the password?"
"Santiago! no," Valentine answered, frankly.
"Then you cannot enter."
"And yet I wish very much to enter."
"Very possibly; but as you have not the password, I advise you to go on your way; for I swear, if you were the devil in person, I would not afford you a passage."
"My friend," said the Parisian, in a jeering tone, "you do not talk logically; if I were the devil, I should stand in no need of the password—I should get in in spite of you."
"Take care, señor," whispered the arriero; "that soldier is not unlikely to fire at you."
"Pardieu! that's what I reckon upon," said Valentine, laughing.
The peon looked at him in astonishment; he thought he was mad. The soldier, annoyed by this long conversation, and believing it of no use to stand wrangling with these jokers, presented his musket, crying angrily,—
"For the last time, go on, or I will fire!"
"I am determined I will go in!" Valentine replied, resolutely.
"To arms!" the soldier cried, and fired. Valentine, who had watched attentively all the soldier's movements, had slipped quickly from his horse, and the bullet whistled harmlessly over his head. At the cry of the soldier and the report of his piece, several armed soldiers, followed by an officer with a lighted lantern in his hand, rushed tumultuously out of the palace.
"What is going on here?" the officer asked, in a loud voice.
"Ah!" Valentine cried, to whom the voice was not unknown, "is that you, Don Gregorio?"
"Who calls me?" said the latter; for, in fact, it was he.
"I, Valentine!"
"What! is it you, my friend, who are making all this disturbance?" replied Don Gregorio, advancing; "I thought it was nothing less than an attack."
"What the devil was I to do?" said the young man, laughing; "I had not the password, and I wanted to get in."
"Hum! none but a Frenchman would have such an idea as that."
"Is it not original?"
"Yes, but you risked being killed."
"Bah! we are always risking being killed, and yet we are not," said Valentine, carelessly; "I recommend my plan to you, under similar circumstances."
"Much obliged! but I do not think I shall ever try it."
"Ah! there you are wrong."
"Well, then, come in! come in!"
"That is all I want; particularly as I must see Don Tadeo instantly."
"I believe he is asleep."
"He must be awakened."
"Do you bring interesting news, then?"
"Yes," Valentine replied, becoming suddenly serious; "terrible news!"
Don Gregorio, struck with the tone in which the Frenchman had pronounced these words, had a presentiment of some misfortune, and asked no further. The arrieros bore the hammock, with Don Louis still asleep, into the cabildo. By the care of Don Gregorio he was carried to a bedchamber, and placed in a bed hastily provided.
"What does all this mean?" Don Gregorio said, in astonishment; "is Don Louis wounded?"
"Yes," Valentine replied, in a husky voice; "he has received two dagger wounds."
"But how did it all happen?"
"You will soon learn; but pray conduct me instantly to Don Tadeo."
"In heaven's name, come, then! your reserve alarms me."
And, followed by Valentine and Trangoil-Lanec, Don Gregorio plunged into the labyrinth formed by the numerous corridors of the palace, with which he seemed well acquainted.