"General," the count answered, "two motives bring me here today: in the first place, the desire to obtain from you a clear and categorical answer on the subject of the propositions I had the honour of making to you a few days back; and next the complaints I have to make to you on the matter of certain very grave facts which have occurred to the prejudice of the French battalion, and of which I have not the least doubt," he added with a certain tinge of irony in his voice, "you were ignorant."
"This is the first I hear of them, sir. Believe me that I am resolved to do good and ample justice to the French battalion, of which I have had only to speak in terms of praise since its organisation, not only through the good conduct of the men without distinction, but also for the services it has not ceased to render."
"Those are handsome words, general. Why must they be so barren?"
"You are mistaken, count, and I hope soon to prove to you the contrary. But let this be for the present, and come to the grievances of which you have to complain. Explain yourself."
The two persons who were talking in this friendly manner and lavishing smiles were General Guerrero and Count Louis de Prébois Crancé, the two men we have seen in such bitter enmity. What had happened, then, since the treaty of Guaymas? What reason was sufficiently powerful to make them forget their hatred? What community of ideas could have existed between them to produce a change so extraordinary and inexplicable?
We will ask our readers' permission to explain this before going further, the more so as the events we have to narrate throw a perfect light on the Mexican character.
The general, after the success of the treaty of Guaymas, and the way in which, thanks to the treachery of Don Cornelio, the insurrection of the pueblos was prevented, thought he had completely gained his cause, and believed that he had got rid of the count for ever. The latter, sick almost unto death, and incapable of connecting two ideas, had received orders to leave Guaymas immediately. His friends, who were restored to liberty after the signature of the treaty, hastened to join him. Valentine had him carried to Mazatlan, where he gradually recovered; then both set out for San Francisco, leaving Curumilla in Sonora, who was ordered to keep them acquainted with the progress of events.
The general had held up before his daughter as a merit the generosity with which he had treated the count; then he had left her ostensibly free to act as she pleased, hoping that with time she would forget her love, and consent to second certain projects he did not as yet let her see, but which consisted in marrying to one of the most influential persons in Mexico. Still months had slipped away. The general, who built on the count's absence, and, before all, the want of news about him, to cure his daughter of what he called her mad passion, was greatly astonished, when he one day began talking to her about his plans and the marriage he had projected, to hear her answer,—
"My father, I have told you that I will marry the Count de Prébois Crancé: no other will obtain my hand. You yourself consented to that union: hence I consider myself bound to him, and, so long as he lives, I will remain faithful to him."
The general was at first greatly taken aback by this answer; for, although he was well aware of his daughter's firmness of character, he was far from expecting such pertinacity. Still, after a moment, he regained his presence of mind, and bending over to her, kissed her on the forehead, saying, with pretended kindness,—