THE SPY.
When the young lady was delivered, the four men set off as fast as they could go, with regard to her ease. In ten minutes they were out of the city, and with the change of the road their speed was increased. The route they took was that which leads to Talca.
"Eh, eh!" Valentine said, laughing, to his foster brother; "we seem to be playing at prisoners' bars. We enter the city by one gate, to leave it immediately by another. We shall not have an opportunity of seeing the capital of Chili this time."
With the exception of these few words, to which Louis only replied by a careless shrug of the shoulders, no other conversation took place during the hour which their rapid journey lasted. By the pale light of the moon the trees on each side of the road seemed to defile like a legion of melancholy phantoms. Ere long the white walls of a chacra (large farm) stood out upon the horizon.
"Here we are," said Don Gregorio, pointing with his finger.
They reached the house in a few minutes. The gate was open, but a man was standing evidently on the watch. The fugitives dashed like a hurricane into the patio, and the gates were immediately closed behind them.
"What has happened, Tio Pepito?" Don Gregorio asked, before he was quite off his horse, of the man who appeared to have expected him.
"Nothing, mi amo" (my master), "nothing of consequence," replied Tio Pepito, a little thick-set man, with a round face, lit up by two grey eyes, sparkling with cunning.
"Have not the persons I expected arrived?"
"Pardon me, mi amo. They have been at the chacra more than an hour. They say they must begone immediately; they are waiting for you impatiently."
"That's well. Announce my arrival to them, and tell them I shall be at their service in two or three minutes."
The mayoral, for this man was the major-domo of the chacra, entered the house without reply. Don Tadeo also, who seemed to know perfectly well where he was, disappeared, bearing the young girl in his arms. The two Frenchmen were left alone with the chacrero, who advanced towards them.
"Now that you are, as we suppose, for the present at least, in safety, sir," said Valentine, "we have only to take our leave of you."
"Not so!" Don Gregorio exclaimed; "it must not be so. Diable! as you Frenchmen say," he added, smiling; "chance does not so often procure us such friends as you, to allow us to part with you thus when we have met you. You will remain here, if you please. Our acquaintance must not terminate so."
"If our continuing here can be of any service to you," Louis replied, courteously, "we are at your command."
"Thank you," he said, in a slightly agitated voice, and pressing their hands warmly; "I shall never forget that I owe to you the lives of myself and my friend. In what way can I be of service to you?"
"Well," Valentine said, laughing, "in every way, and no way, as it may happen, caballero."
"Explain yourself," Don Gregorio replied.
"Dame! it is clear enough; we are strangers in this country."
"When did you arrive?" the Chilian said, examining them attentively.
"Faith! very recently. You are the first persons we have spoken to."
"That is well," Gregorio said, slowly. "I told you that I was at your service, did I not?"
"Yes, and we sincerely thank you; although we hope never to have occasion to remind you of this obliging offer."
"I perfectly appreciate your delicacy; but a service like the one you have rendered me and my friend is an eternal bond. Take no heed of your future fortune, it is made."
"Pardon me, pardon me!" said Valentine, earnestly; "we do not understand one another at all; you mistake us. We are not men who expect to be paid for having acted as our hearts dictated. You owe us nothing."
"I do not propose or pretend to pay you, gentlemen. I only wish, in order to attach you to me, to propose to you to share my good or evil fortune; in a word, I offer myself to you as a brother."
"In that case we at once accede," said Louis, "and will endeavour to prove ourselves worthy of such an offer."
"I have no doubt you will. Only I beg you not to be misled by my words; the life I am leading at present is full of perils."
"I can suppose that," said Valentine, with a laugh. "The scene at which we have been present, and the denoûment of which we perhaps hastened, makes it pretty evident that your existence is not of the most peaceful nature."
"What you have as yet seen is nothing. Do you know nobody in this country?"
"Nobody."
"Your political opinions, then, are unformed?"
"As regards Chili, completely."
"Bravo!" Don Gregorio exclaimed, with delight; "if we agree on that point our compact will be for life and death."
"We do agree," said Valentine, laughing; "and if you conspire—"
"Well?" the Chilian asked, fixing an inquiring look upon him.
"Why, we will conspire, too, pardieu! That is agreed."
The three men exchanged a cordial pressure of the hand, and then Don Gregorio called the major-domo to conduct them to the chamber which was prepared for them.
"Good night! or rather good morning!" he said, on quitting them.
"Come!" said Valentine, rubbing his hands, "matters are going on well. We shall not want for amusement here."
"Hum!" Louis replied, with a tone of something like uneasiness; "conspire!"
"Well, and what better?" said Valentine. "Does that frighten you? Remember, my friend, that the best fishing is in troubled waters."
"In that case," Louis remarked, taking up the gay humour of his companion, "if my presentiments are just, ours will be miraculous."
"I expect so, firmly," said Valentine, bidding good night to the major-domo, who retired, after bowing respectfully.
The cuarto (chamber) in which the young men found themselves, was whitewashed, and entirely destitute of furniture, with the exception of two oak frames furnished with dressed hides, which served as beds, a massive table with twisted feet, and four seats covered with leather. In a corner of the room burned a little green wax light before a badly-engraved print supposed to represent the Virgin.
"Eh!" said Louis, casting a glance around him, "our friends, the Chilians, do not seem to consult comfort much."
"Bah!" Valentine replied, "we have all that we require. A man can sleep soundly anywhere when he is fatigued. This chamber is better than the bivouac we were threatened with."
"You are right. Let us take a little rest then, for we don't know what tomorrow has in reserve for us."
In a quarter of an hour they were both fast asleep. At the moment the Frenchmen went into the house with the major-domo, Don Tadeo came out by another door.
"Well?" Don Gregorio asked, anxiously.
"She is asleep. Her terror is abated," Don Tadeo replied. "The joy she experienced at seeing me, whom she believed dead, brought about a very salutary crisis."
"I am glad to hear it! In that quarter, then, we may be at ease?"
"Completely."
"Do you feel yourself strong enough to be present at an important interview?"
"Is it necessary that I should be present?"
"I think it quite right that you should hear the communications that one of my emissaries is about to make me."
"It is very imprudent of you," said Don Tadeo, "to receive such a man in your own house!"
"Oh! do not alarm yourself! I have known him for a long time. Besides, he is not aware whose house he is in; he was brought hither blinded, by two of our brethren. In addition to which, we shall be masked."
"Well! since you desire it, I am at your commands."
The two friends, after having covered their faces with black velvet masks, entered the apartment in which were the persons who waited for them. This apartment, which served as a dining room, was very large, and furnished with a long table; it was faintly illumined by two sconces, in which burned small candles of yellow tallow, yielding so doubtful a light that objects could be seen but indistinctly. Three men, wrapped in variegated ponchos, and with broad-brimmed hats pulled down over their eyes, were carelessly smoking their slender papelitos, whilst warming themselves round a copper brasero, placed in the middle of the apartment, and in which some olive-stones were slowly burning. At the entrance of the leaders of the Dark-Hearts, these men rose.
"Why," asked Don Tadeo, who at the first glance recognized the emissary, "why did you not wait, Don Pedro, for the meeting tomorrow, at the Quinta Verde, to communicate to the council the revelations you have to make?"
The man thus named as Don Pedro bowed respectfully. He was an individual of about thirty-five years of age. He was tall, and his countenance, as sharp as the blade of a knife, wore a cunning, roguish expression.
"What I have to state only indirectly concerns the Dark-Hearts," he said.
"Then, of what importance is it to us?" Don Gregorio interrupted him.
"But it greatly concerns the leaders, particularly the King of Darkness."
"Explain yourself then, for he is before you," Don Tadeo remarked, taking a step forward.
Pedro darted a look at him which seemed to endeavour to penetrate through the tissue of his mask.
"What I have to say will be brief," he replied,—"I leave to you the care of judging of its importance. General Don Bustamente will be present at the meeting tomorrow."
"Are you sure of that?" the two conspirators exclaimed with a degree of astonishment that denoted incredulity.
"It was I who persuaded him to do so."
"You?"
"Yes, I."
"Are you ignorant, then," Don Tadeo exclaimed with great warmth, "in what manner we punish traitors?"
"I am no traitor; on the contrary, I deliver into your hands your most implacable enemy."
Don Tadeo replied only by a suspicious glance.
"The General then is ignorant?"
"Of everything," said Don Pedro.
"With what purpose, then, does he wish to introduce himself among us?"
"Can you not guess? For that of obtaining your secret."
"But he risks his life."
"Do you forget that every adept must be introduced by a sponsor, who alone knows him? No one sees his face. Well, I introduce him," he added, with a smile of strange significance.
"That is true. But if he should suspect you of treachery?"
"I must undergo the consequences; but he will not suspect me."
"Why not?" Don Gregorio asked.
"Because," the spy replied, with a cynical smile, "for ten years the General has employed me, and during those ten years he has had only cause to praise me for the services I have rendered him."
A momentary silence followed.
"Here!" said Don Gregorio, after a long pause, "this time it is not ten ounces, but twenty, that you have earned. Continue to be faithful to us."
And he placed a heavy purse in his hands. The spy seized it with a gesture of avidity, and concealed it quickly under his poncho.
"You shall have no reproach to make me," he replied, with a bow.
"I hope we shall not," said Don Tadeo, with difficulty repressing an expression of disgust. "Only remember, we should be merciless."
"I know it."
"In that case, farewell."
"Farewell till tomorrow."
The men who had brought him, and who during the conversation had remained motionless, at a sign from Don Gregorio approached the spy, bandaged his eyes again, and led him away.
"Is that fellow a traitor?" asked Don Gregorio, as he listened to the retreating steps of the horses.
"It is our duty to suppose him one," the King of Darkness replied, gravely.
The two friends, instead of seeking the repose which must have been so necessary to them, talked together for a long time, in order to arrange all the measures of safety which were required by the importance of the scene about to take place on the morrow at the meeting of the conspirators. In the meantime Don Pedro had been quickly led back to Santiago. On arriving at one of the gates, his guides left him, disappearing in opposite directions. As soon as he was alone, he removed the handkerchief from his eyes.
"Hum!" he said, with a sinister smile, as he tossed up in his right hand the purse Don Gregorio had given him. "Twenty ounces make a purse of gold. Now let us see if General Bustamente is as liberal as his enemies. By the Virgin! the news I carry him are worth something to him! Let us try to get the best price for them."
After having cast his eyes around to see if the coast was clear, he set off at a sharp trot towards the government palace, muttering to himself—
"Bah! times are hard. If a man did not manoeuvre a little, he would find no means of bringing up his family honestly."
This reflection, of a rather dubious morality, was accompanied by a grimace, the expression of which would have given Don Tadeo cause for suspicion if he had seen it.