THE KITE AND THE DOVE.
General Bustamente had taken advantage of the sudden good-will that Antinahuel had shown towards him; so that two days after the events we have related the Araucanian army was strongly entrenched upon the Bio Bio. Antinahuel, like an experienced chief, had established his camp at the summit of a wooded hill. A screen of trees had been left to conceal the presence of the army. The various contingents had arrived in great haste at the rendezvous, and more came in every minute. The total force of the army was, at that moment, about nine thousand men. Black Stag, with a troop of chosen warriors, beat the country in all directions, in order to surprise the enemy's scouts.
Antinahuel had retired under his toldo with the Linda and Doña Rosario. She bore upon her pale countenance traces of the fatigues she had undergone. She stood, with downcast eyes, before the Toqui.
"My brother sees that I have kept my promise," said the Linda.
"Yes," the Toqui replied; "I thank my sister."
"My brother is a great warrior, he has but one word; before entering the territories of the Huincas, it will be as well to determine the fate of his prisoner."
"This young maiden is not my prisoner," Antinahuel remarked; "she shall be my wife."
"So be it," said the Linda, shrugging her shoulders.
"My sister is fatigued," said the chief. "A toldo is prepared for my sister; she shall repose a few hours."
"Chief," she replied, "my body feels no fatigue; I am strong. Your mosotones were very kind to me."
"Their chief had ordered them to do so," Antinahuel said, gallantly.
"I thank you for having given these orders."
"I love my sister," said the Toqui.
The young lady did not at all understand this blunt declaration of love.
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, innocently, "you love me—you have pity on me."
"I will make every effort to make my sister happy."
"Oh! it would be so easy to do that, if you really wished it!" she cried.
"What must I do for that? I am ready to obey my sister."
"Is that really true?"
"Let my sister speak," said the chief.
"The tears of a poor girl can only render a great warrior like you sad!"
"That is truth," he remarked, mildly.
"Restore me to my friends!" she cried, in an excited manner.
Antinahuel drew back quite astounded, biting his lips with anger. The Linda burst into a loud laugh.
"You see," she said, "it is very easy for you to render her happy."
The chief knitted his brow still more ferociously.
"Come, brother," the Linda continued, "do not be angry; leave me to have a moment's chat with her."
"What to do?" the Toqui asked, impatiently.
"Caramba! why, to explain your intentions clearly to her."
"Well, then——"
"Only be so kind as to observe that in nowise will I answer for disposing her in your favour."
"Ah! To what purpose, then, will you talk?"
"I will undertake that, after our conversation, she shall know perfectly what she has to expect from you with regard to herself."
"My sister has a golden tongue—she will prevail."
"Hum! I do not think so; nevertheless I will try, in order to make myself agreeable," she added.
"Very well; and during that conversation I will visit the camp."
"Do so," said the Linda.
Antinahuel went out, after darting at the young girl a look which made her cast down her eyes. Left alone with Rosario, the Linda examined her for an instant with such an expression of malignant hatred, that the poor girl felt herself tremble. The sight of this woman produced upon her the strange effect attributed to the look of the serpent; she felt herself fascinated by the cold glance of the green eyes that were fixed upon her in a manner which she could not endure. After a few minutes the Linda said, in a cutting voice—
"Poor girl! Although you have been nearly a month a prisoner, can you at all divine what induced me to have carried you off?"
"I do not comprehend you, señora," the young lady replied, mildly; "your words are enigmas to me; I in vain endeavour to discover their meaning."
"Oh! poor, innocent thing!" the courtesan replied, with a mocking laugh; "and yet I fancy that on the night we were face to face at the village of San Miguel, I spoke to you pretty plainly."
"All it was possible for me to understand, señora, was, that you hate me."
"As the fact exists, of what importance is the reason? Yes, I hate you, insignificant thing! But I do not even know you! While avenging myself upon you, it is not you I hate; but the man who loves you; whose heart is broken at your tears! But the torments I reserve for you are nothing, if he is ignorant of them."
"God is just, señora," the maiden replied, firmly. "I do not know what crimes you meditate, but He will watch over me."
"God! miserable, puny creature!" cried the Linda. "God is but a word; He does not exist."
"He will not fail me, señora," Doña Rosario replied. "Beware! lest soon bowed by His powerful hand, you, in your turn, may implore His mercy in vain."
"Begone, miserable child; your threats only inspire me with contempt."
"I do not threaten, señora; I am an unfortunate young girl. I only endeavour to soften you."
"Vain are your prayers," she added; "when my hour comes I will ask for no more mercy than I have had for you."
"God pardon you the evil you wish to do."
For the second time the Linda experienced an indefinable emotion, of which she in vain sought to explain the cause; but she fortified herself against this secret presentiment which appeared to warn her that her vengeance would mislead herself.
"Listen!" she said, in a short, sharp tone; "it was I who had you carried off, as you are aware; but you know not for what purpose, do you? The man who has just left us, Antinahuel, the chief of the Araucanos, is a vile wretch! He has conceived a passion for you, an impure, monstrous passion. His mother wished to divert his mind from this passion, and he killed his mother."
"Oh!" the young girl exclaimed, penetrated with horror.
"You tremble, do you not?" the Linda continued; "that man is an abject being! He has no heart but for crime! He knows no laws but those which his passions and vices impose upon him! Well, this hideous being—this odious villain loves you; I tell you he is in love with you—do you understand me?"
"Oh, you cannot have sold me to this man!" the maiden shrieked in a state of stupefaction.
"I have," she replied, grinding her teeth; "and were it to be begun again, I would do it again! Oh, you do not know what happiness I experience in seeing you, a white dove, rolled in the mud."
"But have you no heart, señora?"
"No, I no longer have; it is long since it was tortured and broken by despair."
For a moment the maiden was overcome.
"Pity, señora!" she cried, in a piercing tone; "oh, you have said you had a heart once! You have loved! In the name of him you loved, have pity—pity for me."
"No, no pity, none was felt for me!" and she pushed her away.
"Señora! in the name of one you have loved, pity."
"I love nothing now but vengeance!" she cried; "it is good to hate; a woman forgets her insults through it."
Doña Rosario did not hear these frightful words; a prey to despair, she continued to weep and supplicate; but the word child struck her ear; a light flashed across her brain.
"Oh, señora!" she cried, "I knew you were good, and that I should succeed in softening you!"
"What does this folly mean?" said the Linda.
"Señora!" Rosario implored, "you have had children! you have loved them! oh, loved them dearly!"
"Silence, unhappy wretch!" cried the Linda; "silence; speak not to me of my daughter!"
"Yes," Rosario continued, "that is it; it was a daughter. Oh, you adored her, señora!"
"Adored my daughter!" cried the Linda, with the roar of a hyena.
"In the name of that beloved daughter, pity!"
The Linda broke suddenly into a frantic laugh. "Miserable fool! what a remembrance have you evoked!—It is to avenge my daughter! my daughter! who was stolen from me, that I wish to make of you the most unhappy of creatures."
Doña Rosario remained for an instant as if struck by a thunderbolt, but looking the courtesan full in the face, said—
"Señora, you have no heart—be then accursed. As to me, I shall be taught how to extricate myself from the outrages you vainly threaten me with."
And, with a movement as quick as thought, she snatched from the girdle of the Linda a narrow, sharp-pointed dagger.
The Linda sprang towards her.
"Stop, señora," the maiden said to her, resolutely; "one step farther, and I stab myself! Oh, I no longer fear you!"
Doña Rosarios look was so firm, her countenance so determined, that the Linda stopped.
"Well," Rosario resumed, with a smile of contempt, "you no longer triumph now; you are no longer certain of your vengeance; let the man you threaten me with dare to approach me, and I will plunge this dagger into my heart."
The Linda looked at her, but made no reply; she was conquered.
At that moment a great tumult was heard in the camp; hurried steps approached the toldo in which the two women were. The Linda resumed her seat, and composed her features. Doña Rosario, with a joyful smile, concealed the dagger.