THE TRUCE.
As soon as the flag of truce was hoisted, firing at once ceased on both sides. The troops at bay, who had ceased to hope for succour, were not sorry to find that the insurgents saved their military honour by being the first to demand a parley. General Cornejo, in particular, was tired of the hopeless combat, which he had bravely maintained all the morning.
"Well, Don Ramón," he said, addressing the senator in a more cordial tone than he had before employed, "I think I have found means to enable you to escape without striking a blow; so what we agreed to stands good, does it not?"
The senator looked at him with a bewildered air; the worthy man had not the least recollection of what he had either said or done while the balls were whistling round him.
"I do not at all understand you, General," he replied.
"Poor man! pretend to be innocent, do!" said the General, laughing, and slapping him on the shoulder; "do you wish to persuade me you are like the Guanacos, which lose their memory through trembling with fear?"
"Upon my honour," said the senator, "I swear, Don Tiburcio, that I have not the least remembrance of having promised you anything."
"Ah! well, it is possible, for you were devilishly frightened. Come, I will refresh your memory: pay attention!"
"You will give me great pleasure."
"Well, I doubt that! but that is of no consequence. You said to me, on the spot where we now stand, not more than half an hour ago, that if I found the means of securing your escape, safe and sound, you would hold me quits for the two thousand piastres I lost to you, and owed you."
"Do you flatter yourself that that is the truth?" said the senator, whose avaricious instincts began to revive, as fear departed.
"I am sure it is. Ask these gentlemen," the General asked, turning towards some officers who stood by.
"Oh, certainly! true to the letter," they said, with a laugh.
"Ah! ah!"
"Yes, and as I would not listen to you, you added—"
"What!" Don Ramón, who knew of old the man he had to deal with, said, with a start—"do you mean to say that I added something?"
"The devil! yes," said the other. "You added this; and I repeat your own words. You said, as plainly as you could speak—'And I will give a thousand piastres in addition.'"
"Oh, that is not possible!" the senator ejaculated, quite beside himself.
"Perhaps I did not understand you?"
"That must be it."
"Do you admit you mentioned the two thousand?" asked the General, quietly.
"Not at all! not at all!" replied Don Ramón, quite confounded by the laughter of the bystanders.
"Perhaps you meant more; well, we will not haggle about that."
"I never said a word of the kind!" the exasperated senator exclaimed.
"In that case," said the General, with a stern frown, and surveying him coolly, "you mean to say that I have told a falsehood."
Don Ramón became aware that he had made a false move, and drew back.
"Pardon me, my dear General," he said, in the most amiable voice possible, "you are perfectly right; I do now remember it was two thousand piastres I promised you in addition."
It was now the General's turn to be at a loss, for this generosity on the part of the senator, whose avarice was proverbial, confused him; he was suspicious of some snare or trick.
"But," Don Ramón added, with an air of triumph, "you have not saved me."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why, Santiago! as we are going to hold a parley, you are too late, and our bargain is void."
"Oh! oh!" said Don Tiburcio, with a jeering smile, "you think so, do you?"
"Caspita! I am sure of it."
"And yet you are deceived, my dear friend, as you shall judge: come with me, the flag of truce is now crossing the barricades, and in an instant you will learn that you have never been so near death as now."
"You are joking."
"I never joke about serious circumstances."
"In Heaven's name explain yourself!" said the poor senator, whose fears had all returned.
"Lord! it is the simplest thing in the world," said the General, carelessly; "I have but to declare to the leader of the revolt, and be assured I will not fail to do so, that I only acted by your orders."
"Well, but that is not true," interrupted Don Ramón, in great alarm.
"I know that," the General replied, bluntly; "but, as you are a senator, they will believe me, and you will be fully and fairly shot, and that will be a pity."
Don Ramón was thunderstruck by this piece of implacable logic; he found that he was in a hobble, from which he could not possibly escape without paying handsomely. He looked at his friend, who surveyed him with a pitilessly ironical smile, whilst the officers bit their lips to keep from laughing; he stifled a sigh, and resolving to make the best of it, very much against his will, he said, inwardly cursing the man who exposed him in such a cynical fashion—
"Well, Don Tiburcio, I admit that I owe you two thousand piastres, but I will pay you."
This was the only epigram he ventured to indulge in regarding the General's willingness to pay; but the latter was magnanimous, he took no notice of the offensive part of the speech, and rendered quite cheerful by the bargain he had concluded, he prepared to listen to the propositions of the officer with the flag of truce, who was brought to him with his eyes bandaged. This officer was Don Tadeo de Leon.
"What do you come here for?" the General asked.
"To offer you good terms, if you will surrender," Don Tadeo replied, in a firm voice.
"Surrender!" the General shouted with a laugh; "you must be mad, sir!" and, turning towards the soldiers who had brought Don Tadeo, he added, "Remove the bandage from the eyes of this caballero."
The bandage fell accordingly.
"Look round you," said the General, haughtily, "do we look like people asking for a favour?"
"No, General, you are a stout soldier, and your troops are brave; you ask no favour of us, it is we who come to you to offer to lay down our arms on both sides, and put an end to this fratricidal contest," Don Tadeo replied, with an air of grandeur.
"Who are you, may I ask, sir?" said the General, struck with the noble bearing of the man who was speaking to him.
"I am Don Tadeo de Leon, whom your leader ordered to be shot."
"You!" cried the General, "you here!"
"I, myself; and I have another name."
"Tell it to me, sir."
"I am called the King of Darkness."
"The leader of the Dark-Hearts!" the General murmured, starting, in spite of himself, and surveying the speaker with uneasy curiosity.
"Yes, General, I am the leader of the Dark-Hearts, but I am still something more."
"Explain yourself, sir," the General asked, who began to be in doubt how to behave toward the strange personage who was speaking to him.
"I am the leader of the men whom you term insurgents, but who have, in reality, only taken up arms to defend the institutions you have overthrown, and the constitution you have violated."
"Sir!" said the General, "your words——"
"Are severe, but just," continued Don Tadeo; "ask your own loyal, soldier's heart, General, and then tell me which side is right."
"I am not a lawyer, sir," Don Tiburcio replied impatiently; "you have yourself said that I am a soldier, and, as such, I confine myself to obeying, without discussion, the orders I receive from my leaders."
"Let us not lose time uselessly in idle speeches, sir; will you, or will you not, lay down your arms?"
"By what right do you make me such a proposal?" the General asked, whose pride revolted at being forced to hold a parley with a citizen.
"I could answer you," replied Don Tadeo, sternly, "that it is by the right of the stronger, and that you know as well as I do that you are combating for a lost cause, and that you are persisting without advantage in a senseless struggle; but I prefer addressing myself to your heart, and saying, why should brothers and fellow countrymen continue to cut each other's throats?—why should we any longer shed such precious blood? Make your conditions, General, and be assured that for the sake of protecting your soldier's honour, that honour which is ours also, as among the troops against whom we fight are our relations, friends, and countrymen, we will grant them as extensively as you can desire."
The General felt himself moved, this noble language had found an echo in his heart; he looked down on the ground, and reflected for several minutes; at length, raising his head, he replied—
"Sir, believe me it costs me much not to answer as I could wish what you have done me the honour to say to me; but I have a leader above me."
"In your turn please to explain yourself, sir," said Don Tadeo.
"I have sworn to Don Pancho Bustamente to defend his cause to the death."
"Well?"
"Well, sir, unless Don Pancho Bustamente were killed or a prisoner,—in either of which cases I should consider myself freed from my oath to him,—I will lay down my life for him."
"Is that the only reason that prevents you, General?"
"Yes, the only one."
"In case General Bustamente should be either killed or a prisoner, you would surrender?"
"Instantly, I repeat."
"Well," replied Don Tadeo, stretching out his arm in the direction of the barricade by which he had come, "look yonder, General."
Don Tiburcio looked in the direction indicated, and uttered a cry of surprise and sorrow. Don Pancho Bustamente appeared at the top of the barricade; his head was bare, and two armed men watched all his movements.
"Do you see him?" Don Tadeo asked.
"Yes," replied the General, sorrowfully; "we all surrender, sir;" and turning the point of his sword to the ground, he bent the blade with the intention of breaking it. Don Tadeo stopped him by seizing the sword, which he, however, returned to him immediately, saying—
"General, keep that weapon, it will serve you against the enemies of our country."
The General made no reply; he silently pressed the hand which the King of Darkness held out to him, and turning away to conceal the emotion which agitated him, he wiped away a tear that had fallen upon his grey moustache.