ASSISTANCE.
The man who now entered the hall of mirrors was dressed like the riders who promenade at the Bucareli, and gallop at carriage doors—that is to say, in trousers with silk stripes down the sides, and a broad-brimmed hat decorated with a double gold string and tassels.
He walked gracefully up to Don Sebastian, still holding his hat in his right hand, bowed to him with that exquisite grace of which the Mexicans alone seem to have the privilege, and thrusting his hand into his side, he said, with an accent of cutting sarcasm, and in a harsh, metallic voice—
"Do you recognize me, Don Sebastian, and do you believe that I am really alive, and that it is not the ghost of Martial the Tigrero which has come from the grave to address you?"
At the same moment Belhumeur's clever, knowing face could be seen peering through the doorway. With his eyes obstinately fixed on the general, he seemed to be impatiently expecting an answer, which the latter, struggling with several different feelings, evidently hesitated to give. Still, he was compelled to form a resolution, so he rose and looked the Tigrero boldly in the face.
"Who are you, señor?" he said, in a firm voice, "and by what right do you question me?"
"Well played," said Valentine, with a laugh; "by heaven, caballero, it is a pleasure to contend with you, for, on my soul, you are a rude adversary."
"Do you think so?" Don Sebastian asked, with a hoarse laugh.
"Certainly," the hunter continued, "and I am delighted to bear my testimony to the fact; hence you had better yield at once, for you are in a dilemma from which you cannot escape, not even by a master stroke."
There was a silence, lasting some minutes. At length the general seemed to make up his mind, for he turned to Belhumeur, who was still listening, and bowed to him with ironical politeness.
"Why stand half hidden by that door?" he said to him; "pray enter, caballero, for your presence here will be most agreeable to the whole company."
The Canadian at once entered, and after giving the general a respectful bow he leant over the back of Valentine's chair. The latter eagerly followed all the incidents of the strange scene that was being played before him, and in which he appeared to be a disinterested spectator rather than an actor.
"You see, señores," the general said, haughtily, "that I imitate your example, and, like you, play fairly. I believe that you entered my house in order to propose a bargain to me, Don Valentine? You, señor," he said, turning to the Tigrero, "whom I told that I did not recognize, and whom I have the honour of receiving at my house for the first time, have doubtless come as witness for these caballeros, who are your friends. Well, gentlemen, you shall all three be satisfied. I am awaiting your proposal, Don Valentine. I allow, señor, that you, whose miraculous resuscitation I have hitherto denied, are alive, and are really Don Martial the ex-lover of Doña Anita de Torrés. As for you, señor, whom I do not know, I authorize you to declare before any one you like the truth of the words I utter. Are you all three satisfied, gentlemen? Is there anything else I can do to afford you pleasure?—if so, speak, and I am ready to satisfy you."
"A man could not yield to what is inevitable with better grace," Valentine replied, bowing ironically.
"Thanks for your approval, caballero, and be kind enough to let me know, without further delay, the conditions on which you are willing to leave off pursuing me with that terrible hatred with which you incessantly threaten me, and whose result is rather long in coming, according to my judgment."
These words were uttered with a mixture of pride and contempt impossible to express, and which for a moment rendered Valentine dumb, so extraordinary did the sudden change in his adversary's humour appear to him.
"I am waiting," the general added, as he fell back in his chair, with an air of weariness.
"We will bring matters to an end," Valentine said, drawing himself up with an air of resolution.
"That is what I wish," the general interrupted him, as he lit a cigarette, which he began smoking with the most profound coolness.
"These are my conditions," the hunter said distinctly and harshly, for he was annoyed by this frigid indifference. "You will at once leave Mexico, and give up Doña Anita, to whom you will not only restore her liberty, but also the right of giving her hand and fortune to whomsoever she pleases. You will sell your estates, and retire to the United States, promising on oath never to return to Mexico. On my side, I pledge myself to restore you your daughter's body, and never attempt to injure you in any way."
"Have you anything more to add?" the general asked, as he coolly watched the blue smoke of his cigarette as it rose in circles to the ceiling.
"Nothing; but take care, señor, I too have taken an oath, and from what I have told you, you must have seen how far I have detected your secrets. Accept or refuse, but come to a decision; for this is the last time we shall meet face to face under the like conditions. The game we are playing is a terrible one, and must end in the death of one of us; and I shall show you no pity, as, doubtless, you will show me none. Reflect seriously before answering yes or no, and I give you half an hour to decide."
The general burst into a sharp and nervous laugh. "Viva Dios, caballero!" he exclaimed, with a contemptuous toss of his head, "I have listened to you with extreme surprise. You dispose of my will with an incomparable facility. I do not know who gives you the right to speak and act as you are doing; but, by heaven, hatred, however active it may be, can in no case possess this privilege. You fancy yourself much more powerful than you really are, I fancy; but, at any rate, whatever may happen, bear this carefully in mind—I will not retreat an inch before you. Accepting your impudent and ridiculous conditions would be to cover myself with shame and my utter ruin. Were you the genius of Evil clothed in mortal form, I would not the less persist in the track I have laid down for myself, and in which I will persevere at my own risk and peril; however terrible may be the obstacles you raise, I will overthrow them or succumb bravely, buried beneath the ruins of my abortive plans and my destroyed fortunes. Hence consider yourself warned, Don Valentine; that I despise your menaces, and they will not stop me. And you, Don Martial, since such is your name, that I shall marry my ward, in spite of the efforts you may make to prevent me, and shall do so because I wish it, and because no man in the world has ever attempted to resist my will without being at once mercilessly crushed. And now, señores, as we have said all we have to say to each other, and I think there is no more, and we can have no doubt as to our mutual intentions, permit me to take leave of you, for I wish to go to the Santa Anna theatre, and it is already very late."
He rang the bell, and a footman came in.
"Order the carriage," he said to him.
"Then," Valentine said as he rose, "it is war to the death between us."
"War to the death! be it so."
"We shall only meet once again, general," the hunter remarked; "and that will be on the eve of your death, when you are in Capilla."
"I accept the meeting, and will bow uncomplainingly before you if you are powerful enough to obtain that result; but, believe me, I am not there yet."
"You are nearer your fall than you perhaps suppose."
"That is possible; but enough of this; any further conversation will be useless. Light these gentlemen down," he said to the servant, who at this moment entered the room.
The three men rose, exchanged dumb bows with the general, and, accompanied by him to the door of the room, they followed the footman, who preceded them with candles. Two carriages were waiting at the foot of the stairs; Valentine and his friends got into one of them, the general took his seat in the other, and they heard him give the order in a firm voice to drive to the Santa Anna theatre. The coachmen flogged their horses, which started at a gallop, and the two carriages left the house, the gates of which were closed after them.
The Santa Anna theatre was built in 1844 by the Spanish architect, Hidalgo. This building has externally nothing remarkable about it, either in regard to frontage or position; but we are glad to state that the interior is convenient, elegant, and even grand.
After passing through the external portico, you enter a yard covered with a glass dome, next come wide stairs with low steps, large and lofty lobbies, a double row of galleries looking on the front yard, and airy crush-rooms for the promenaders.
The house is well built, well decorated, and spacious; it has three rows of boxes, with a lower circle representing the pit boxes, and another above the third circle for the lower classes. In the pit, it is worth mentioning that each visitor has his stall, which he reaches easily and comfortably by passages formed down the centre and round the theatre. The boxes nearly all contain ten persons, and are separated from each other by light colonnades and partitions. To each box is attached a room, to which people withdraw between the acts, and, instead of the balconies which in our theatres conceal a great part of the ladies' toilets, the boxes have only a ledge a few inches in height, which allows the splendid dresses of the audience to be fully admired.
We have dwelt, perhaps with a little complacency, on this description of the Santa Anna theatre, for we thought that, at the moment when it is intended to rebuild the Opera and other Parisian theatres, there can be no harm in displaying the difference that exists between the frightful dens in which the spectators are thrust together pell-mell every night in a city like Paris, which claims to be the first, not only in Europe, but in the whole world, and the spacious airy theatres of a country like Mexico, which in so many respects is inferior to us as regards ideas of civilization and comfort. It would, however, be very easy, we fancy, to obtain in Paris the advantageous results the Mexicans have enjoyed for twenty years, and that at a slight expense. Unfortunately, whatever may be said, the French are the most thorough routine nation in the world, and we greatly fear that, in spite of incessant protests, things will remain for a long time in the same state as they are today.
When the general entered his box, which was in the first circle, and almost facing the stage, the house presented a truly fairy-like appearance. The extraordinary performance had brought an immense throng of spectators and ladies, whose magnificent dresses were covered with diamonds, which glittered and flashed beneath the light that played on them.
Don Sebastian, after bending forward for a moment to exchange bows with his numerous acquaintances, and prove his presence, withdrew to the back of the box, opened his glasses, and began looking carelessly about him. But though, through a powerful effort of the will, his face was cold, calm, and unmoved, a terrible storm was raging in the general's heart.
The scene that had taken place a few minutes previously at his mansion, had filled him with anxiety and gloomy forebodings, for he understood that his adversaries must either believe or feel themselves very strong thus to dare and defy him to the face, and audaciously enter his very house. In vain he tortured his mind to find means to get rid of his obstinate enemy; but time pressed, his situation became at each moment more critical, and unless some bold and desperate stroke proved successful, he felt instinctively that he was lost without chance of salvation.
The president's box was occupied by the first magistrate of the Republic, and some of his aide-de-camps. Several times, Don Sebastian fancied that the president's eyes were fixed on him with a strange expression, after which he bent over and whispered some remarks to the gentlemen who accompanied him. Perhaps, this was not real, and the general's pricked conscience suggested to him suspicions far from the thoughts of those against whom he had so many reasons to be on his guard; but whether real or not, these suspicions tortured his heart and proved to him the necessity of coming to an end at all risks.
Still the performance went on; the curtain had just fallen before the last act, and the general, devoured by anxiety, and persuaded that he had remained long enough in the theatre to testify his presence, was preparing to retire, when the door of his box opened, and Colonel Lupo walked in.
"Ah, is it you, colonel?" Don Sebastian said to him as he offered his hand and gave him a forced smile. "You are welcome; I did not hope any longer to have the pleasure of seeing you, and I was just going away."
"Pray do not let me stop you, general, I have only a few words to say to you."
"Our business?"
"Goes on famously."
"No suspicion?"
"Not the shadow."
The general breathed like a man from whose chest a crushing weight has been just removed.
"Can I be of any service to you?" he said, absently.
"For the present, I have only come for your sake."
"How so?"
"I was accosted today by a lepero, a villain of the worst sort, who says that he wishes to avenge himself on a certain Frenchman, whom he declares you know, and he desires to place himself under your protection, in the event of the blade of his navaja accidentally slipping into his enemy's body."
"Hum! that is serious," the general said with an imperceptible start. "I do not know how far I dare go in being bail for such a scoundrel."
"He declares that you have known him a long time, and that while doing his own business, he will be doing yours."
"You know that I am no admirer of navajadas, for an assassination always injures the character of a politician."
"That is true; but you cannot be rendered responsible for the crimes any villain may think proper to commit."
"Did this worthy gentleman tell you his name, my dear colonel?"
"Yes; but I believe that it would be better to mention it in the open air, rather than in this place."
"One word more; have you cleverly deceived him, and do you think that he really intends to be useful to us?"
"Useful to you, you mean."
"As you please."
"I could almost assert it."
"Well, we will be off; have you weapons about you?"
"I should think so; it would be madness to go about Mexico unarmed."
"I have pistols in my pocket, so I will dismiss my carriage, and we will walk home to my house; does that suit you, my dear colonel?"
"Excellently, general, the more so because if you evince any desire to see the scoundrel in question, nothing will be easier than for me to take you to the den he occupies, without attracting attention."
The general looked at his accomplice fixedly. "You have not told me all, colonel?" he said.
"I have not, general, but I am convinced that you understand the motive, which at this moment keeps my mouth shut."
"In that case, let us be off."
He wrapped himself in his cloak and left the box, followed by the colonel. A footman was waiting under the portico for his orders to bring up the carriage.
"Return to the house," the general said; "it is a fine night, and I feel inclined for a walk."
The footman retired.
"Come, colonel," Don Sebastian went on.
They left the theatre and proceeded slowly toward the Portales de Mercaderes, which were entirely deserted at this advanced hour of the night.