AFTER THE INTERVIEW.
The house taken for Valentine by Mr. Rallier was, as we have already stated, situated in the Calle de Tacuba, and by a strange accident, in no way premeditated, only a few yards from the mansion belonging to General Don Sebastian Guerrero. The latter had no suspicion of this, for until the moment when the hunter thought it advisable to pay him a visit, he had been completely ignorant of his enemy's presence in Mexico, in spite of the crowd of spies whom he paid to inform him of his arrival in the capital.
The hunter, therefore, would only have had a few steps to go to reach home after leaving the general. But suspecting that the latter might have given orders to have his carriage followed, he ordered his coachman to drive to the Alameda, and thence to the Paseo de Bucareli.
As the night was far advanced, the promenaders had abandoned the shady walks of the Alameda, which was now completely deserted. This, doubtless, was what the hunter desired, for, on reaching about the centre of the drive, he ordered the coachman to stop, and got out with his companions. After recommending him to watch carefully over his mules (in Mexico people do not use horses for their carriages), and not let any one approach him, for fear of one of those surprises so frequent at this hour at this place, the three men then disappeared in one of the shady walks, though careful not to go too far, so that they could assist their coachman in case of need.
Valentine, like all men accustomed to desert life, that is to vast horizons of verdure, had an instinctive distrust of stone walls, behind which, in his fancy, a spy was continually listening. Hence, when he had an important affair to discuss, or a serious matter to communicate to his friends, he preferred—in spite of the care with which his house had been chosen, and the faithful friends who passed as servants there—going to the Alameda, the Paseo de Bucareli, the Vega, or somewhere in the environs of Mexico, where after posting Curumilla as a sentry, that is to say, the man in whom he had the most perfect faith, and whose scent, if I may be allowed the term, was infallible, he believed that he could safely confide his closest secrets to the friends he conveyed to these strange open air councils.
On reaching a thick clump of trees the hunter stopped.
"We shall be comfortable here," he said, as he sat down on a stone bench and invited his friends to imitate him, "and shall be able to talk without fear."
"The trees have eyes, and the leaves ears," Belhumeur answered sententiously; "I fear nothing so much in the world as these transparent screens of verdure, which allow everything to be seen and heard."
"Yes," Valentine remarked with a smile, "if you do not take the precaution to frighten away spies;" and at the same moment he imitated the soft cadenced hiss of the coral snake.
A similar hiss was heard from the centre of the clump and seemed like an echo.
"That is the chief's signal," the Canadian said. "He has been watching for us there for nearly an hour. Do you now believe that we are in safety?"
"Certainly; when Curumilla watches over us we have no surprise to apprehend."
"Let us talk, then," said Don Martial.
"One moment," Valentine remarked, "we must first hear the report of a friend, which is most valuable, and will doubtless decide the measures we have to adopt."
"Whom are you alluding to?"
"You shall see," Valentine answered, and clapped his hands thrice softly.
Immediately a slight sound and a gentle rustling of leaves was heard in a neighbouring thicket, and a man suddenly emerged, about four paces from the hunters. It was Carnero, the capataz of General Guerrero. He wore a vicuna skin hat, of which the large brim was bent over his eyes, and he was wrapped up in a spacious cloak.
"Good evening, señores," he said, with a polite bow, "I have been awaiting your coming for nearly an hour, and almost despaired of seeing you tonight."
"We were detained longer than we expected by General Guerrero."
"Do you come from him?"
"Did I not tell you I should call on him?"
"Yes; but I hardly believed that you would have the temerity to venture so imprudently into the lion's den."
"Nonsense," Valentine said with a disdainful smile, "the lion as you call him, I assure you, was remarkably tame; he drew in his claws completely, and received us with the most exquisite politeness."
"In that case take care," the capataz replied, with a significant shake of the head; "if he received you as you say, and I have no reason to doubt it, he is, be assured, preparing a terrible countermine against you."
"I am of the same opinion; the question is, whether we shall allow him the time to act."
"He is very clever, my dear Valentine," the capataz continued, "and seems to possess an intuition of evil. In spite of the oath I took to you when, on your entreaty, I consented to remain in his service, there are days when, although I possess a thorough knowledge of his character, he terrifies even me, and I feel on the point of giving up the rude task which, through devotion to you, I have imposed on myself."
"Courage, my friend; persevere but a few days longer, and, believe me, we shall be all avenged."
"May heaven grant it!" the capataz said with a sigh; "but I confess that I dare not believe it, even though it is you who assure me of the fact."
"Have you learnt any important news since our last interview?"
"Only one thing, but I think it is of the utmost gravity for you."
"Speak, my friend."
"What I have to tell you is short and gloomy, señores. The general, after a secret conversation with his man of business, ordered me to carry a letter to the Convent of the Bernardines."
"To the convent?" Don Martial exclaimed.
"Silence," said Valentine. "Do you know the contents of this letter?"
"Doña Anita gave it me to read. The general informs the abbess that he is resolved to finish the matter; that whether his ward be mad or not, he means to marry her, and that at sunrise on the day after tomorrow, a priest sent by him will present himself at the convent to arrange the ceremony."
"Great God! what is to be done?" the Tigrero exclaimed sadly; "how is the execution of this odious machination to be prevented?"
"Silence," Valentine repeated. "Is that all, Carnero?"
"No; the general adds, that he requests the abbess to prepare the young lady for this union, and that he will himself call at the convent tomorrow, in order to explain more fully his inexorable wishes—these are the very words of the letter."
"Very good, my friend, I thank you for this precious information; it is of the utmost importance that the general should be prevented from going to the convent before three o'clock of the tarde. You understand, my friend, this is of vital importance, so you must manage to effect it."
"Do not be uneasy, my dear Valentine; the general shall not go to the convent before the hour you indicate, whatever may be the means I am forced to employ to prevent him."
"I count on your promise, my friend; and now good-bye."
He offered him his hand, which the capataz pressed forcibly.
"When shall I see you, again?" he asked.
"I will soon let you know," the hunter answered.
The capataz bowed and went down a walk; the sound of his footsteps rapidly decreased, and was quite inaudible within a few minutes.
"My friends," Valentine then said, "we have now arrived at the moment for the final struggle, which we have so long been preparing. We must not let ourselves be led away by hatred, but act like judges, not as men who are avenging themselves. Blood demands blood, it is true, according to the law of the desert; but, remember, however culpable the man whom we have condemned may be, his death would be an indelible spot, a brand of infamy which would sully our honour."
"But this monster," the Tigrero exclaimed, with a passion the more violent because it was repressed, "is beyond the pale of humanity."
"He may re-enter it to repent."
"Are we priests then to practise forgetfulness of insults?" Don Martial asked with a fiendish grin.
"No, my friend, there are men in the grand and sublime acceptation of the term; men who have often been faulty themselves, and who, rendered better by the life of struggling they have led, and the grief which has frequently bowed them beneath its iron yoke, inflict a chastisement, but despise vengeance, which they leave to weak and pusillanimous minds. Who of you, my friends, would dare to say that he has suffered more than I? To Him alone will I concede the right of imposing his will on me, and what He bids me do I will do."
"Forgive me, my friend," the Tigrero answered, "you are ever good, ever great. God, in imposing on you a heavy task, endowed you at the same time with an energetic soul, and a heart which seems to expand in your bosom under the blast of adversity, instead of withering. We, however, are but common men, in whom the sanguinary instinct of the savage is constantly revealed in spite of all our efforts, and who know no other law save that of retaliation. Forget the senseless words my lips uttered, and be assured that I will ever joyfully obey you, whatever you may command, persuaded as I am, that you can only ask the man who has utterly placed himself in your power to do just actions."
The hunter, while his friend was speaking thus in a voice broken by emotion, had let his head fall on his hands, and seemed absorbed in gloomy and painful thought.
"I have nothing to forgive you, my friend," he replied in a gentle, sympathizing voice, "for through my own sufferings I can understand what yours are. I, too, often feel my heart bound with wrath and indignation; for, believe me, my friend, I have a constant struggle to wage against myself, not to let myself be led away to make a vengeance of what must only be a punishment. But enough on this head; time presses, and we must arrange our plans, so as not to be foiled by our enemies. I went today to the palace, where I had a secret conversation with the President of the Republic, whom, as you are aware, I have known for many years, and who honours me with a friendship of which I am far from believing myself worthy. At the end of our interview he handed me a paper, a species of blank signature, by the aid of which I can do what I think advisable for the success of our plans."
"Did you obtain such a paper?"
"I have it in my pocket. Now, listen to me. You will go at sunrise tomorrow to the house of Don Antonio Rallier; he will be informed of your coming, and you will follow his instructions."
"And you?"
"Do not be anxious about my movements, good friend, and only think of your own business, for, I repeat, the decisive moment is approaching. The day after tomorrow begins the feast of the anniversary of Mexican Independence; that is to say, on that day we shall do battle with our enemy, and meet him face to face; and the combat will be a rude one, for this man has a will of iron, and a terrible energy. We shall be able to conquer him, but not to subdue him, and if we do not take care he will slip through our hands like a serpent; hence our personal affairs must be finished tomorrow. Though apparently absent, I shall be really near you, that is to say, I will help you with all my power. Still, do not forget that you must act with the most extreme prudence, and, above all, the greatest moderation; a second of forgetfulness would ruin you, by alarming the innumerable spies scattered round the Convent of the Bernardines. I trust that you have heard and understood me, my friend?"
"Yes, Don Valentine."
"And you will act as I recommend?"
"I promise it."
"Reflect, that you are perhaps risking the loss of your future happiness."
"I will not forget your recommendation, I swear to you; I am risking too great a stake in this game, which must decide my future life, to let myself be induced to commit any act of violence."
"Good; I am happy to hear you speak thus; but have confidence, my friend, I feel certain that we shall succeed."
"May heaven hear you!"
"It always hears those who appeal to it with a pure heart and a lively faith. Hope, I tell you; and now, my dear Don Martial, permit me to say a few words to our worthy friend, Belhumeur."
"I will withdraw."
"What for? have I any secrets from you? You can hear what I am going to say to him."
"You have nothing to say to me, Valentine," the hunter said, with a shake of his head, "nothing but what I know already; I have no other interest in what is about to take place beyond the deep friendship that attached me to the count and now to you. You think that the recollection I have preserved of our unhappy friend cannot be sufficiently engraven on my heart for me to risk my life at your side in avenging him; but you are mistaken, Valentine, that's all. I will not abandon you in the hour of combat; I will remain at your side even should you order me to leave you. I tell you that I swear, and have taken an oath to that effect, to make a shield of my body to protect you, if it should be necessary. Now, give me your hand, and suppose we say no more about it?"
Valentine remained silent for a moment; a scalding tear ran down his bronzed cheeks, and he took the hand of the honest, simple-minded Canadian, and merely uttered the words—
"Thank you; I accept."
They then rose, and returned to their carriage, after Valentine had warned his faithful bodyguard, Curumilla, by a signal that he could leave his hiding place, as the interview was over. A quarter of an hour later the three gentlemen reached the house in the Calle de Tacuba, were Curumilla was already awaiting them.