DON MARTIAL.
The capataz rose, opened a door, went out for a moment, returned; to his seat opposite the Tigrero, poured himself out a glass of sherry, which he swallowed at a draught, and then letting his head fall in his hands, remained silent.
Don Martial watched with amazement the various movements of the capataz. Seeing at last that he did not seem inclined to make the confession he was so impatiently awaiting, he went over and touched him slightly. Carnero started as if suddenly branded with a hot iron.
"What you have to reveal to me must be very terrible," the Tigrero at length said in a low voice.
"So terrible, my friend," the capataz answered with an amount of terror impossible to depict, "that though alone with you in this room, where no spy can be concealed, I fear to tell it you."
The Tigrero shook his head sadly. "Speak, my friend," he said, in a gentle voice, "I have suffered such agony during the last few months, that all the springs of my soul have been crushed by the fatal pressure of despair. However horrible may be the blow that menaces me, I will endure it without flinching; alas! grief has no longer power over me."
"Yes, you are a man carved in granite. I know that you have struggled triumphantly against lost fortunes; but, believe me, Don Martial, there are sufferings a thousandfold more atrocious than death—sufferings which I do not feel the right of inflicting on you."
"The pity you testify for me is only weakness. I cannot die before I have accomplished the task to which I have devoted the wretched existence heaven left me in its wrath. I have sworn, at the peril of my life, to protect the girl who was betrothed to me in happier times."
"Carry out your oath, then, Don Martial; for the poor child was never in greater peril than she is at present."
"What do you mean? In heaven's name explain yourself," the Tigrero said passionately.
"I mean that Don Sebastian covets the incalculable wealth of his ward, which he needs for the success of his ambitious plans; I mean that remorselessly and shamelessly laying aside all human respect, forgetting that the unfortunate girl the law has confided to him is insane, he coldly intends to become her murderer."
"Go on, go on! what frightful scheme can this man have formed?"
"Oh!" the capataz continued with savage irony; "the plan is simple, honest, and highly praised by some persons, who consider it admirable, even sublime."
"You will tell me?'
"Well, know all, then; General Don Sebastian Guerrero intends to marry his ward."
"Marry his ward, he!" Don Martial exclaimed with horror, "'tis impossible."
"Impossible?" the capataz repeated with a laugh, "Oh, how little you know this man with the implacable will, this wild beast with a human face, who pitilessly breaks everyone who dares to resist him. He is resolved to marry his ward in order to strip her of her fortune, and he will do so, I tell you."
"But she is mad!"
"I allow she is."
"What priest would be so unnatural as to bless this sacrilegious marriage?"
"Nonsense," the capataz said with a shrug of his shoulders, "you forget, my good sir, that the general possesses the talisman which renders everything possible, and purchases everything—men, women, honour, and conscience; he has gold."
"That is true, that is true," the Tigrero exclaimed in despair, and burying his face in his hands, he remained motionless, as if suddenly struck by lightning.
There was a lengthened silence, during which nothing was audible but the choking sobs that burst from Don Martial's heaving chest. It was a heartrending sight to see this strong, brave man so tried by adversity, now conquered and almost crushed by despair, and weeping like a frightened child.
The capataz, with his arms crossed on his chest, pale forehead and eyebrows contracted almost till they met, looked at him with an expression of gentle and sympathizing pity.
"Don Martial," he at length said, in a sharp and imperative voice.
"What do you want with me?" the Tigrero asked, looking up with surprise.
"I want you to listen to me, for I have not said all yet."
"What more can you have to tell me?" the other asked sadly.
"Arouse yourself like the man you are, instead of remaining any longer crushed beneath the pressure of despair, like a child or a weak woman. Is there no hope left in your heart?"
"Did you not tell me that this man had an implacable will which nothing could resist?"
"I did say so, I allow; but is that a reason for giving up the struggle? Do you suppose him invulnerable?"
"Yes," he exclaimed eagerly, "I can kill him."
The capataz shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
"Kill him," he repeated, "nonsense; that is the vengeance of fools! Moreover, you will still be able to do that when all other means failed. No—you can do something else."
Don Martial looked at him earnestly. "You hate him too then, since you do not fear to speak to me as you are doing?"
"No matter whether I hate him or not, so long as I am willing to serve you."
"That is true," the Tigrero muttered.
"Besides," the capataz continued, "do you forget who recommended you to me?"
"Valentine," said Don Martial.
"Valentine; yes, Valentine, who saved my life as you have done, and to whom I have vowed an eternal gratitude."
"Oh," Don Martial said mournfully, "Valentine himself has given up any further contest with this demon."
The capataz grinned savagely. "Do you believe that?" he asked ironically.
"What matter?" the Tigrero muttered.
"Grief makes you egotistic, Don Martial," the other replied; "but I forgive you on account of the sufferings I have most unluckily caused you."
He broke off, poured out a glass of sherry, swallowed it, and sat down again on his butaca.
"He would be a bad physician," he continued, "who, having performed a painful operation, did not know how to apply the proper remedies to cicatrize and cure it."
"What do you mean?" the Tigrero exclaimed interested, in spite of himself, by the tone in which those words were uttered.
"Do you believe," the capataz continued, "do you believe, my friend, that I would have inflicted such great pain on you if I had not possessed the means to cause an immense joy to succeed it? Tell me, do you believe that?"
"Take care, señor," the Tigrero said in a trembling voice, "take care what you are about, for I know not why, but I am beginning to regain hope, and I warn you that if this last illusion which you are trying to produce were to escape me this time, you would kill me as surely as if you stabbed me with a dagger."
The capataz smiled with ineffable gentleness. "Hope, my friend; hope, I tell you," he said, "that is exactly what I want to bring you to; for I wish you to have faith in me."
"Speak, señor," he replied; "I will listen to you with confidence, for I do not believe you capable of sporting so coldly with agony like mine."
"Good, we have reached the point I have been aiming at so long. Now listen to me. I told you, I think, that on her arrival in Mexico, Doña Anita was taken by Don Sebastian to the Convent of the Bernardines?"
"Yes! I fancy I can remember your saying so."
"Very good. Doña Anita was received with open arms by the good nuns who had educated her. The young lady, on finding herself again among the companions of her childhood, treated with kind and intelligent care, wandering unrestrained beneath the lofty trees that had sheltered her early years, gradually felt calmness returning to her mind; her grief by degrees gave way to a gentle melancholy; her ideas, overthrown by a frightful catastrophe, regained their balance; in short, the madness which had spread its black wings over her brain was driven away by the soft caresses of the nuns, and soon entirely disappeared."
"So, then," Don Martial exclaimed, "she has regained her reason?"
"I will not venture to assert that, for she is still insane in the opinion of everybody."
"But in that case——," the Tigrero said in a panting voice.
"In that case," the capataz continued, purposely laying a stress on every word, while fixing a magnetic glance on the Tigrero, "as all the world believes it, it must be so till the contrary is proved."
"But how did you learn all these details?"
"In the most simple manner. My master, Don Sebastian, has sent me several times to the convent with messages, and chance decreed that I recognized in the sister porter a relation of mine, whom I thought dead long ago. The worthy woman, in her delight, and perhaps, too, to make up for the long silence she is compelled to maintain, tells me whenever she sees me all that is said and done in the convent, and there is a good deal to learn from the conversation of a nun. She takes a good deal of interest in me, and as I am fond of her too, I listen to her with pleasure. Now, do you understand?"
"Oh! go on. Go on!"
"Well, this time I have nearly finished. It appears, from what my relation tells me, that the nuns, and the Mother Superior before all, are utterly opposed to the general's plans of marriage."
"Oh, the holy women!" the Tigrero exclaimed with simple joy.
"Are they not?" the capataz said with a laugh. "This is probably the reason why they keep so secret the return of their boarder to her senses, for they doubtless hope that, so long as the poor girl is mad, the general will not dare contract the impious union he is meditating; unfortunately, they do not know the man with whom they have to deal, and the ferocious ambition that devours him; an ambition for the gratification of which he will recoil from no crime, however atrocious it may be."
"Alas!" the Tigrero said despairingly; "you see, my friend, that I am lost."
"Wait, wait, my good sir; your situation, perhaps, is not so desperate as you imagine it."
"My heart is on fire."
"Courage; and listen to me to the end. Yesterday I went to the convent, the Mother Superior, to whom I had the honour of speaking, confided to me, under the seal of secrecy—for she knows that, although I am a servant of Don Sebastian, I take a deep interest in Doña Anita, and would be glad to see her happy—that the young lady has expressed an intention to confess."
"Ah, for what reason! do you know?"
"No, I do not!"
"But that desire can be easily satisfied, I presume, there are plenty of monks and priests attached to the convent."
"Your observation is just; still it appears that, for reasons I am equally ignorant of, neither the Mother Superior nor Doña Anita wishes to have one of those monks or priests for confessor, hence——"
"Hence?" Don Martial quickly interrupted him.
"Well, the Mother Superior asked me to bring her a priest or monk in whom I had confidence."
"Ah!"
"You understand, my friend."
"Yes, yes! Oh, God! go on!"
"And to take him to the convent."
"And," Don Martial asked in a choking voice, "have you found this confessor?"
"I believe so," the capataz answered with a smile; "and pray, what do you think, Don Martial?"
"Yes, I do too," he exclaimed joyfully. "At what time are you to take this confessor to the convent?"
"Tomorrow, at the Oración."
"Very good, and I presume you have arranged a place to meet him?"
"Caspita! I should think so; he is to meet me at the Parian, where I shall be at the first stroke of the Oración."
"I am certain that he will be punctual!"
"And so am I; and now, señor, do you consider that you have lost your time in listening to me?"
"On the contrary," Don Martial replied, as he offered him his hand with a smile, "I consider you a first-rate hand at telling a story."
"You flatter me."
"No, indeed I do not. I consider, too, that the nuns of St. Bernard are excellent and holy women."
"Caspita! I should think so; they have a relation of mine as portress."
The two men burst into a frank and hearty laugh, whose explosion no one could have anticipated from the way in which their interview began.
"Now, we must separate," the capataz said, as he rose.
"What, already?"
"I have to accompany my master tonight on an excursion outside the city."
"Some plot, I presume?"
"I am afraid so; but what would you have; I am forced to obey."
"In that case, turn me out of doors."
"That is what I am going to do; by-the-bye, have you seen Don Valentine since you arrived?"
"Not yet. This long delay makes me anxious, and if it were not so late, or if I knew my road, I would go and ask hospitality of Don Antonio Rallier, his fellow countryman, so as to obtain news of him."
"That is of no consequence. Do you know Don Antonio's address?"
"Yes, he lives in the Secunda Monterilla."
"It is close by; if you wish it, I will have you taken there."
"I should feel greatly obliged; but by whom?"
"Caspita! have you forgotten the man to whom you intrusted your horse? He will act as your guide."
"A thousand thanks!"
"It is not worth them. Will you take a walk tomorrow in the Parian?"
"I am so anxious to see your confessor that I shall not fail to be there."
The two men smiled again.
"Now, give me your hand, and let us be off."
They went out of the room; the capataz led the Tigrero by the same passage, walking along in the darkness as if it were broad day, and they soon found themselves beneath the zaguán of the small house. The capataz thrust his head out, after opening the door cautiously. The street was deserted, and after looking up and down it, he whistled in a peculiar way, and in a few minutes footsteps were heard and the peon appeared holding the Tigrero's horse by the bridle.
"Good bye, señor," the capataz said. "I thank you for the delightful evening you have caused me to spend. Pilloto, lead this señor, who is a forastero, to the Secunda Monterilla, and point out to him the house of Señor Don Antonio Rallier."
"Yes, mi amo," the peon answered laconically.
The two friends exchanged a parting salutation; the Tigrero mounted, and followed Pilloto, while the capataz re-entered the house and closed the door after him. After numberless turnings and windings, the rider and the footman at length entered a street which, from its width, the Tigrero suspected to form part of the fashionable quarter.
"This is the Secunda Monterilla," said the peon, "and that gentleman," he added, pointing to a horseman who was coming toward them, followed by three footmen also mounted, and well-armed, "is the very Don Antonio you are looking for."
"You are sure of it?" the Tigrero asked.
"Caray! I know him well."
"If that is the case, accept this piastre, my friend, and go home, for I no longer need your services."
The peon bowed and retired. During the conversation the newcomer had halted in evident alarm.
"'Tis I, Don Antonio," the Tigrero shouted to him. "Come on without fear—I am a friend."
"Oh, oh! it is very late to meet a friend in the street," Don Antonio answered, though he advanced without hesitation, after laying his hand on his weapon to guard against a surprise.
"I am Martial, the Tigrero."
"Oh, that is different; what do you want? A lodging, eh? I will have you led to my house by a servant, and there leave you till tomorrow, as I am in a hurry."
"Agreed; but allow me one word."
"Speak!"
"Where is Don Valentine?"
"Do you want to see him?"
"Excessively."
"Then come with me, for I am going to him!"
"Heaven has sent him thus opportunely," the Tigrero exclaimed, as he drew his horse up alongside Don Antonio's.