Scarcely had the young Marquis quitted the house, when Senhor Policarpio, with disordered dress, and covered with dust, rushed into the presence of his master. “Fly, my lord!” he exclaimed,—“we are betrayed, and all is discovered! There is not a moment to lose: the Marquis of Tavora and all his family were apprehended last night, and the moment I heard of it I hurried off here to warn you of your danger.”
“Whither can I fly?” exclaimed the Duke. “It is useless; besides, no one will dare to injure me. Even that bold plebeian, Sebastiaö Jozé, would not venture so far.”
“Pardon me, your Excellency, then,” answered Policarpio; “I feel very certain that he will venture to hang me, if he can catch me, so I must take care of my own life.” And, without waiting to hear anything his master might wish to say further, he hurried from the apartment.
His first care was to go to his own room, and to collect in a bag all the money he had hoarded up. He then threw off the garments he wore, and dressed himself in some ragged ones, which he had brought under his cloak. The latter garment served to conceal his new costume, as, seizing his bag of coin, he hastened from the house, unnoticed by any one. He took the least frequented way across the estate, stopping every now and then to listen and to look around, lest any guards might be approaching. He then, after quitting his master’s property, hurried across the country, and halted not for many miles, till he arrived in the centre of a pine-forest, through which ran a clear and tranquil brook. Having looked carefully around, he sat himself down on the bank, and, drawing a knife from his pocket, he deliberately cut off every particle of his hair, throwing it, as he did so, into the water. His next operation was to scratch the entire surface of his face and neck, and the greater part of his legs and hands, with his knife, rubbing them over at the same time with an ointment he had provided. With this application the skin became swollen and discoloured to a frightful degree, so that, after a few minutes had passed, it would have been utterly impossible, even for the most intimate acquaintance, to have recognised him. He next tore and dirtied still more the garments he wore, and, cutting a rough staff from a branch of a fallen tree, he left the spot with the exact appearance of a loathsome and wandering beggar. For many years was that wretched figure seen roaming from spot to spot, expecting every instant to be recognised, daring to confide in no one, without a friend in the world, conscience-stricken and miserable, yet clinging to life—no one suspecting that beneath those rags was hidden the atrocious criminal, Joseph Policarpio.
We must now return to the Duke of Aveiro. For some time he would not believe the account Policarpio had given him; but sat waiting, every instant expecting his return, to give him further information, when his servant, Manoel Ferreira (who, at the particular desire of Policarpio, had, for obvious reasons, transferred his services from the Marquis to him), rushed into the room with the information, that an officer of justice, and a considerable body of armed men, were approaching the house.
He now, for the first time, showed some symptoms of comprehending his danger; and, when his Duchess, entering the apartment, and throwing herself at his feet, entreated him to fly, he no longer hesitated to comply with her urgent prayer. He hastened to the window, which commanded a view of the entrance to the grounds, and there, at a few paces off only, he beheld a body of cavalry, advancing rapidly up the avenue. He stood for a moment, irresolute what course to pursue.
“Come, my lord, we must not stay here to be taken like rats in a trap,” exclaimed Manoel, whose impatience had become excessive. “We have yet time to escape into the woods, where we may remain concealed till we learn the worst that is likely to happen to us.”
“Oh! follow Manoel’s advice,” added the Duchess. “I will stay, and endeavour to delay the police.”
“Close every door and window in the house,” she cried to the other servants, who crowded in to learn what was the matter. “Haste, haste! not a moment is to be lost—your master’s life depends on your alacrity. We may hold out for some time, before they suspect we are deceiving them.”
While the servants hurried off to obey her orders, she took her husband’s hand, and led him to a small door, at the back of the building, whence he might escape across a field, into the woods which surrounded the Quinta. She here resigned him to Manoel; for so completely had terror now mastered him, that he seemed incapable of guiding his own steps, while she retired to an upper window to watch his progress.