THE INTERVIEW.
Owing to their disguise, but, above all, the interest everybody took in the cockfight, the Frenchmen succeeded in leaving the amphitheatre as they had entered it; that is to say, without attracting any attention. When they reached a sort of dark passage leading to the interior of the house, Valentine stopped.
"Listen, to me, Louis," he said, gluing his mouth, as it were, to his friend's ear. "The moment has arrived for you to learn why I brought you hither."
"I am listening."
"Since I left you at the mission, as you may suppose, I have not been inactive. I have gone about the country, have entered into relations with all the richest and most respected inhabitants, and have succeeded in making them comprehend how important it was for them to join and support you. The festival of La Magdalena offered us a favourable opportunity for meeting without attracting the attention of the Mexican Government, and arousing its apprehension. The only house in which a large body of persons can meet without exciting notice is indubitably that in which there is a cockpit. I therefore made an appointment here for this moment with the malcontents, who are numerous. They are all men who, by their fortunes or position, enjoy a high degree of consideration in the State which we wish to revolutionise, and possess great influence. I will introduce you to them: they are awaiting your arrival. You will explain to them your intentions, and they will tell you on what conditions they will consent to join you. Remember, however, brother, that you are dealing with Mexicans. Set no more confidence in their words or promises than they deserve. Be sure that success alone will gain them; that if you fail they will abandon you remorselessly, and be ready to deliver you up if they fancy they can derive any advantage from such an act of infamy. Now, if what I tell you does not suit you, you can retire, and I will undertake to dismiss them without compromising you in any way."
"No!" the count answered resolutely, "it is too late now: to hesitate or recoil would be cowardly. I must go on at all risks. Announce me to our new friends."
"Come on, then."
They walked to the end of the passage, where a closed door checked their progress. Valentine tapped thrice at equal intervals with the hilt of his machete.
"Who is there?" a voice asked from inside.
"The man expected a long time, though you did not dare hope that he would come," Valentine answered.
"He is welcome," the voice added.
At this moment the door opened, the two men entered, and it closed again on them immediately. They then found themselves in a large room with whitewashed walls, and the floor of beaten earth. The furniture consisted of benches, on which were seated some fifty men, some of whom wore an ecclesiastical garb. Curtains of red serge placed before the windows took off the glare, while at the same time preventing anyone outside seeing what was going on. On the entrance of the count and Valentine, all rose and uncovered themselves respectfully.
"Caballeros," Valentine said, "according to my promise, I have the honour to present to you the Count de Prébois Crancé, who has consented to accompany me in order to hear the propositions you have to make to him."
All bowed ceremoniously to the count, and he returned their bows with that grace and amenity peculiar to him. A man of a certain age, with an elegant and intelligent face, and dressed in the magnificent costume of the rich hacenderos, advanced and addressed the hunter.
"Pardon me, sir," he said with a slightly ironical accent, "I believe you have made a small mistake."
"Be good enough to explain, Señor Don Anastasio," the hunter replied. "I do not understand the words you have done me the honour to address to me."
"You said, sir, that the count had done us the honour of coming to hear the propositions we had to make to him."
"Well, sir?"
"That is just where the mistake lies, Don Valentine."
"How so, Señor Anastasio?"
"It appears to me that we have no propositions to make to the count, but that we, on the contrary, should listen to his."
A murmur of assent ran through the audience. Don Louis saw it was time to interfere.
"Gentlemen," he said, bowing gracefully to the hacenderos, "will you allow me to have a frank explanation with you? I am convinced that when I have done so any misunderstanding will be removed, and we shall comprehend each other perfectly."
"Speak, speak, señor!" they said.
"Gentlemen," he went on, "will not here enter into any personal details. I will not tell you how or why I arrived at Guaymas—in what way the Government of Mexico, after breaking all the promises it made me, ended by declaring me an enemy of the country, placed me without the pale of society, and carried its impudence so far as to treat me as a pirate, and set a price on my head, as if I were a bandit or wretched assassin; for that would cause the loss of precious moments, and be a gratuitous abuse of your patience, as you all know thoroughly what has occurred."
"Yes, señor conde," the hacendero who had already spoken interrupted him, "we know the facts to which you allude: we deplore them, and blush for the honour of our country."
"I thank you, gentlemen, for these marks, of sympathy: they are very sweet to me, as they prove that you are not mistaken as to my character. I will come to facts without further circumlocution."
"Hear, hear!" the audience murmured.
The count waited a few moments, and when silence was completely restored he continued:—
"Gentlemen, Sonora is the most fertile and richest country not only of Mexico, but of the whole universe. By its position at the extremity of the centre of the Confederation, from which it is divided by lofty mountains and vast despoblados, Sonora is a country apart, destined, in a speedy future, to separate itself from the Mexican Confederation. Sonora is sufficient for itself. The other provinces supply it with nothing; on the contrary, Sonora supports and enriches them with the surplus of its produce. But Sonora, owing to the system of oppression under which it groans, is, properly speaking, only a vast desert. The greater part of its territory is uncultivated, for the Government of Mexico, which knows so well how to squeeze it, and seize the productions of its soil, and the gold and silver of its mines, is impotent to protect it against the enemies that surround it—the Indios Bravos, whose incursions, annually becoming more insolent, threaten to grow even more so, unless a speedy remedy is applied, and the evil uprooted. I said, at the outset, that within a short period Sonora would be separated from the Mexican Confederation. Let me explain myself. This will happen inevitably, but in two different ways, according to the advantage the inhabitants will derive from it. Sonora is menaced by powerful enemies other than the Indians. These enemies are the North Americans, those Wandering Jews of civilisation, whose axes you may hear felling the trees of the last forests that separate you, and who will soon invade and occupy your country, unless you take care; and it will be impossible for you to offer the slightest resistance to this unjust conquest, for you have no support to expect from your Government, which consumes all its energies in the purposeless and universal contests of the cabecillas, who seize on the power in turn."
"Yes, yes," several persons exclaimed, "that is true; the count is right."
"This conquest with which you are menaced is imminent—it is inevitable; and then what will happen, gentlemen? What has happened wherever the Yankees have succeeded in planting themselves. You will be absorbed by them: your language, customs, even your religion, all will be submerged in this flood. See what has occurred in Texas, and shudder at the thought of what awaits you soon!"
A thrill of anger ran through the assembly at these words, of which each recognised the justice in his heart. The count went on:—
"You have a means to escape this frightful evil; it is in your hands—it depends on you alone."
"Speak, speak!" was shouted on every side.
"Declare your independence loudly, frankly, and energetically. Separate yourselves boldly from Mexico, form the Sonorian Confederation, and call to your aid the French emigrants in California. They will not remain deaf to your appeal: they will come to help you not only in conquering, but also in maintaining your independence against your enemies within and without. The Frenchmen whom you adopt will become your brothers: they have the same religion, almost the same habits as yourselves; in a word, you belong to the same race. You will easily understand each other. They will erect an impassable barrier against North American invasion, make the Indians respect your frontiers, and compel the Mexicans to recognise the right you have proclaimed of being free."
"But," one of the company objected, "if we call the French to our aid, what will they ask of us in return?"
"The right of cultivating your lands which lie fallow," the count answered energetically; "of bringing to you progress, the arts, and industry; in one word, of peopling your deserts, enriching your towns, and civilising your villages: that is what the French will ask. Is it too much?"
"No, certainly, it is not," Don Anastasio said amid a murmur of assent.
"But," another objected, "who guarantees us that, when the moment arrives to settle our accounts with the colonists we have summoned to our aid, they will faithfully fulfil the promises they have made us, and not insist, in their turn, on dictating laws to us, by taking advantage of their number and strength?"
"I, caballeros, I, who in their name will treat with you, and assume the responsibility of everything."
"Yes, the prospective of which you allow us a glimpse is seductive, caballero," Don Anastasio answered in the name of all. "We recognise the truth of the facts you tell us. We know only too well how precarious our position is, and what great dangers menace us; but a scruple causes us to refrain at this moment. Have we the right to plunge our unhappy country, already half ruined, in the horrors of a civil war, when in this unfortunate land nothing is prepared for an energetic resistance? The Government of Mexico, so weak for good, is powerful for evil, and it will manage to find troops to reduce us if we revolt. General Guerrero is an experienced officer—a cold and cruel man, who will recoil before no extremity, however terrible its nature, to stifle in blood any attempt at insurrection. In a few days he has succeeded in collecting a powerful army to conquer us: each of your soldiers, in the coming contest, will have to fight against ten. However brave the French may be, it is impossible for them to resist such an imposing force. A battle lost, and all is over with you. Any armed opposition will become impossible, and you will drag us down in your fall if we help you; and we have the more to fear, because our position is not like yours. We are sons of the country: we have in it our families and fortunes. We have, therefore, everything to lose; while you, on the other hand, supposing you are beaten, and your enterprise completely fails, have a means of safety we cannot employ, in flight. These considerations are serious. They oblige us to act with the greatest prudence, and reflect deeply, before determining to shake off the detested yoke of Mexico. Do not believe, caballero, that we speak thus through cowardice or weakness. No, it is solely through the fear of failure, and the loss, in the shipwreck, of the few shreds of liberty which, through policy, they have not yet dared to tear from us, and which they possibly only need a pretext to assail."
"Gentlemen," the count answered, "I appreciate at their full value the motives you have been good enough to lay before me. Still, permit me to observe that, however serious the objections may be you do me the honour of laying before me, we are not here to discuss them. The object of our meeting is an offensive and defensive alliance between yourselves and me, is it not?"
"Certainly," most of the audience exclaimed, surprised by the count's sudden change of position, and led to speak, perhaps involuntarily, more hurriedly than they had intended.
"Well," the count continued, "let us not waste our time, like those tradesmen who boast to each other about the quality of their wares. Let us go straight to our object, frankly, clearly, and like men of honour. Tell me, without any concealment, on what conditions you consent to form an alliance with me and give me your support, and the number of men I can count on when the right moment arrives."
"That is the right way to speak, señor conde," Don Anastasio replied. "Well, to a question so clearly asked, we will answer no less clearly. We do not doubt (Heaven forbid we should!) either the courage or strategic skill of your soldiers: we know that the French are brave. Still your band is not large: up to the present it has no support, and only possesses the patch of ground on which it is encamped. Establish a solid base of operations—seize, for instance, one of the three chief cities of Sonora—then you will no longer be adventurers, but really soldiers; and we shall no longer fear to treat with you, because your expedition will have gained consistency—in one word, have become earnest."
"Very good, gentlemen; I understand you," the count answered coldly. "And, in case I succeed in carrying one of the cities you mention, I can count on you?"
"Body and soul."
"And how many men will you place at my disposal?"
"Six thousand in four days—the whole of Sonora in a week."
"You promise it?"
"We all swear it!" they exclaimed enthusiastically.
But this enthusiasm could not produce a flash or smile on the count's face.
"Gentlemen," he said, "within a fortnight I give you the meeting in one of the three chief cities of Sonora; and then, as I shall have accomplished my obligations, I shall call on you to keep yours."
The Mexicans could not restrain a gesture of astonishment and admiration at these noble words. The count, though no longer young, was still handsome, and gifted with that fascination which improvises kingdoms. Each of his phrases left a memory. All present came in turn to press his hand, and renew individually their protestations of devotion, after which they left the room. The count and Valentine remained alone.
"Are you satisfied, brother?" the hunter asked him.
"Who could be strong enough to galvanise this people?" the count muttered with a mournful shrug of his shoulders, and rather answering his own thoughts than the question his friend had addressed to him. The two men went to fetch their zarapés. They found their escort where they had left it, and retired slowly through the crowd, who saluted them as they passed with shouts of "Vivan los Franceses!"
"If I come to be shot some day," the count said bitterly, "they will only have to alter one word."
Valentine sighed, but made no reply.