The Adventurers

Such was the state of things, and of the various parties with regard to each other, at the time we resume our narrative. The enemies were about to come face to face; it was evident that each, being well prepared, would endeavour to take advantage of the opportunity, and that a shock was imminent; but how would it be brought about? Who would set fire to the mine, and cause all those passions, those grudges, those ambitions, so long restrained, to explode? Nobody could say!

The plain on which the ceremony was to take place was vast, covered with high grass, and belted by mountains verdant with lofty trees. The plain, crossed by woods and lines of apple trees, loaded with fruit, was divided in two by a meandering river, which flowed gently along, balancing on its silver waters numerous troops of black-headed swans; here and there, through the breaks of the thickets, might be seen the pointed nose of a vicuna, which, with ear erect, and eye on the watch, seemed to sniff the breeze, and all at once bounded away into the distance.

The sun was rising majestically in the horizon when a measured noise of tinkling bells proceeded from a wood of apple trees, and a troop of half a score mules, led by the mother mare, and driven by an arriero, debouched into the plain. These mules carried diverse objects for an encampment, provisions, and even some bales of clothes and linen. At twenty paces behind the mules, came a rather numerous troop of horsemen. When they arrived at the banks of the little river we have spoken of, the arriero stopped his mules, and the party dismounted. In an instant the bales were unpacked and arranged with care, so as to form a perfect circle, in the centre of which a fire was lighted. Then a tent was erected in this temporary camp, and the horses and mules were hobbled.

This party, whom, no doubt, our readers have already recognized, were Don Tadeo, his friends the Frenchmen, the Indian Ulmens, with Doña Rosario, and three servants. By a strange coincidence, at the same time that they were arranging their camp, another party nearly as numerous established theirs on the opposite bank of the river, exactly in face of them. The leader of this was Doña Maria. As frequently happens, it had pleased chance to bring into propinquity irreconcilable enemies, who were only separated from each other by a distance of fifty yards at the most. But was this entirely owing to chance?

Don Tadeo had no suspicion of this dangerous proximity, or he would probably have done everything in his power to avoid it. He had cast a vacant glance at the caravan opposite to him, without taking any further heed of it, being absorbed in thoughts of the highest importance. Doña Maria, on the contrary, knew perfectly well, what she was about, and had placed herself where she was with the skill of an able tactician. In the mean time, as the morning advanced, the number of travellers kept increasing on the plain; by nine o'clock it was literally covered with tents; a free space only being reserved around an old half ruined chapel, in which mass was to be celebrated before the commencement of the ceremony.

The Puelches, who had descended from their mountains in great numbers, had passed the night in making joyous libations around their campfires; many of them were sleeping in a state of complete intoxication; nevertheless, as soon as the arrival of the minister of the Chilian republic was announced, they all sprang up tumultuously, and began to dance, and utter cries of joy. On one side arrived General Bustamente at a canter, surrounded by a brilliant staff, all glittering with gold lace, and followed by a numerous troop of lancers; whilst on the other side came, at a gallop, the four Araucano Toquis, followed by the principal Ulmens of their nation, and a great number of mosotones.

These two troops, which hastened to meet each other amidst the vivas and cries of joy of the crowd, raised immense clouds of dust, in which they disappeared. The Araucanos in particular, who are excellent jinetes, a term used in this country to designate good horsemen, indulged in equestrian eccentricities, of which the so-much vaunted Arab fantasias can give but a faint idea; for they are nothing in comparison with the incredible feats performed by these men, who seem born to manage a horse. The Chilians had a much more serious bearing, from which they would gladly have freed themselves, if human respect had not restrained them.

As soon as the two troops met, the chiefs dismounted and ranged themselves, the Ulmens, armed with their long, silver-headed canes, behind Antinahuel, and the three other Toquis and the Chilians behind General Bustamente. It was the first time the Tiger-Sun and the General had met. Each of these two men, therefore, equally good politicians, equally false and equally ambitious, and who, at the first glance, understood one another, contemplated his rival with intense earnestness.

After exchanging a few salutes, impressed with a rather suspicious cordiality, the two bands retrograded from each other a few paces, to afford room for the commissary-general and four Capitanes de Amigos. These officers are what they call in the United States Indian agents; they serve as interpreters and agents to the Araucanos, for trade, and all that concerns their transactions with the Chilians. It must be observed that all these Indians speak Spanish perfectly well; but they never will use it in appointed meetings. These Capitanes de Amigos, who, for the most part, are half-breeds, are much beloved and respected. They arrived, leading a score of mules loaded with presents, destined by the President of the Republic for the principal Ulmens. For, be it noted, when Indians treat with Christians, they consider nothing settled till they have received presents: it is for them a proof that the other party does not wish to deceive them; they constitute an earnest which they require to bind the bargain, and prove that they are treated in good faith. The Chilians, who, unfortunately for them, had long been accustomed to Araucanian habits, had taken good care not to forget this important condition.

Whilst the commissary-general was distributing the presents, General Bustamente repaired to the chapel, where a priest, who had come purposely from Valdivia, celebrated mass. After mass, the speeches commenced, as soon as the minister of the republic and the four Toquis of the Uthal-Mapus had embraced. These speeches, which were very long, resulted in mutual assurances that they were satisfied with the peace which reigned between the two peoples, and that they would do all in their power to maintain it as long as possible. We think it our duty to beg our readers to observe, in justice to the two speakers, that one was not more sincere than the other, and that they did not mean one word they said, since in their hearts they determined to break their promises as soon as possible. They appeared, however, very well satisfied with the comedy they were playing, and they terminated it by a final embrace, more close and warm than the first, but equally false.

"Now," said the General, "if my brothers, the great chiefs, will please to follow me, we will plant the cross."

"No," Antinahuel replied, with a honied smile, "the cross must not be planted in front of the stone toldo."

"Why not?" the General asked, with astonishment.

"Because," the Indian replied, in a tone of decision, "the words we have exchanged must remain buried on the spot where they have been pronounced."

"That is just!" said the General, bowing his head in sign of assent. "It shall be done as my brother desires."

Antinahuel smiled proudly.

"Have I spoken well, powerful men?" he asked, looking at the Ulmens.

"Our father, the Toqui of the Inapire-Mapu, has spoken well," the Ulmens replied.

The Indian peons then went to fetch from the chapel, upon the floor of which it lay, a cross of at least thirty feet in height, which they brought to the spot where the conferences had been held. All the chiefs and the Chilian officers ranged themselves around it; the troops forming a vast circle at a respectful distance. After the pause of an instant, of which the priest took advantage to bless the cross with that off-hand carelessness which distinguishes the Spanish clergy in America, it was planted in the ground. At the moment it was about to gain its upright position, Antinahuel interposed.

"Stop!" he said to the Indians armed with spades; and turning towards the General, "Peace is well assured between us, is it not?" he asked.

"Yes, certainly," the General replied.

"All our words are buried under this cross?"

"All of them."

"Cover them with earth then," he said to the peons, "that they may not escape, and that war may not be rekindled between us."

"When this ceremony was accomplished, Antinahuel caused a young lamb to be brought, which the machi slaughtered near the cross. All the Indian chiefs bathed their hands in the still warm blood of the quivering animal, and daubed the cross with hieroglyphic signs, destined to keep away Guécubu, the genius of evil, and prevent the words from escaping from the spot in which they were buried. In conclusion, the Araucans and the Chilians discharged their firearms in the air, and the ceremony was ended. General Bustamente then coming up to the Toqui of the Inapire-Mapu, passed his arm through the chiefs in a friendly manner, saying in an ingratiating tone —

"Will not my brother, Antinahuel, come for an instant in my tent, to taste a glass of aguardiente de Pisco and take maté? – he would render his friend happy."

"Why should I not?" the chief replied, smiling, and in the most good-humoured tone.

"My brother will accompany me!"

"Lead on, then."

Both moved off, chatting upon indifferent subjects, directing their course towards the General's tent, which had been pitched within gunshot of the place where the ceremony had taken place. The General had given his orders beforehand, so that everything was prepared to receive the guest he brought with him magnificently, as for the success of his projects he had so great an interest in pleasing him.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE ABDUCTION

Whilst the ceremony we have described was being accomplished, a terrible event was passing not far from it, on the banks of the river, in the camp of Don Tadeo de Leon. The three parties which divided Chili, and aimed at governing it, had, as if of one accord, chosen the day for the renewal of the treaty to throw off the mask and give their partisans the signal of revolt. Don Tadeo, who feared everything from Doña Maria and the General's spies, had consented, but with regret, that Rosario should accompany him to the plain, to be present at the ceremony; he had taken her from the convent, and brought the young girl with him, inwardly pleased that she would thus not be in Valdivia during the serious events that were there preparing.

Doña Rosario, to tell the truth, had only consulted her love in the request she had made of her guardian; the desire of seeing unobserved, for a few hours, the object of her affections, had dictated it. Don Tadeo, who could not on any account be present at the ceremony, being obliged to conceal himself, took the two young Frenchmen aside as soon as his little encampment was arranged. It was then about seven o'clock in the morning, and the crowd began to flock to the plain. The King of Darkness cast a prudent and searching look around, but, reassured by the complete solitude that prevailed, he at length decided upon explaining to the young men, who were astonished at this strange proceeding, all that appeared so unusual and inconsistent in his conduct.

"Caballeros," he said, "since I have had the honour of knowing you, I have concealed nothing from you, and you know all my secrets; this day must decide the question of life or death to which, from my boyhood, I have devoted all the energies of my mind. I must leave this spot instantly, and return to Valdivia. It is in that city that the first blow will be struck, within a few hours, against the tyrant, and the struggle I expect will be terrible. I am not willing to expose the young lady whom you know, and whose life you have already saved, to the chances of it. I confide the care of her to one of you, the other will accompany me to the city. In the event of any fatal mischance happening to me, I will place in his hands a paper, which will inform you both of my intentions, and of what I wish you to do with that poor child, who is all I hold dear on earth, and whom I leave with the greatest pain. Which of you, gentlemen, will take charge of Doña Rosario during my absence?"

"Be at ease, Don Tadeo, go where your duty calls you," Louis answered, in a solemn but agitated tone; "I swear that while I live no danger, either near or distant, shall assail her; to reach her it must pass over my dead body."

"Receive my warmest thanks, Don Louis," the Dark-Heart replied, somewhat surprised, and yet affected by the manner of the Frenchman; "I place implicit faith in your words; I know you will keep your vow at all risks; besides, in a few hours I hope I shall be back, and here she can have nothing to dread."

"I will watch over her," the young man said, quietly.

"Once again I thank you."

Don Tadeo left the young men, and returned to the tent where Doña Rosario, reclining in a hammock, was gently swinging herself, and indulging in perhaps pleasing reveries. On seeing her guardian, she sprang up eagerly.

"Do not disturb yourself, my child," said Don Tadeo, putting her back with a gentle hand, "I have but two words to say to you."

"I am always attentive to you, my kind friend."

"I have come to bid you farewell."

"Farewell, Don Tadeo!" she exclaimed, in great terror.

"Oh! comfort yourself, timid darling! only for a few hours."

"Ah! that is all!" she said, with a smile of satisfaction.

"Certainly, all! There is in this neighbourhood an exceedingly curious grotto. I was foolish enough to let some words slip concerning it this morning before Don Valentine, and that demon of a Frenchman," he added, with a smile, "insists upon my showing it to him; so that, in order to get rid of his importunities, I have been obliged to comply."

"You have done quite right," she said, eagerly; "we are under great obligations to those two French caballeros, and what he asked is such a trifle!"

"That it would have been uncourteous on my part to refuse him," Don Tadeo interrupted, "therefore I have not. We shall set off directly, in order to be the sooner back. Be as cheerful as you can during our absence, dear child."

"I will endeavour," she said, absently.

"Besides, I shall leave Don Louis to take care of you; you can chat together, and the time will quickly pass away."

The young girl blushed as she stammered – "Come back soon, dear friend."

"Time to go and return, that is all; adieu, then, darling!"

Don Tadeo left the tent, and rejoined the young men.

"Adieu, Don Louis!" he said. "Are you ready, Don Valentine?"

"Ready!" the Frenchman replied, laughing; "Caramba! I should be in despair at losing such an opportunity of judging whether you understand getting up revolutions as well as we Frenchmen do."

"Oh! We are but young at the work yet," Don Tadeo remarked; "and yet we begin to have some idea of the matter, I assure you."

"Good-bye, Louis, for a time," said Valentine, pressing his friend's hand; and stooping towards his ear, he added – "Be thankful to your stars, do you not see that Heaven protects your love?" The young man only replied by shaking his head despondingly, and sighing deeply. A peon had brought the horses for the two Chilians and the Frenchman, and they were soon in the saddle. They set off at a quick pace, and were quickly lost in the high grass and the windings of the road. Louis returned pensively to the camp, where he found Doña Rosario alone in her tent; the two Indian chiefs, attracted by curiosity, having gone in the direction of the chapel, where, mingled with the crowd, they might be present at the ceremony. The arrieros and the peons had not been long in following their example.

The young girl was seated on a heap of dyed sheepskins in front of the tent, dreamily looking at, but without seeing, the clouds which were driven across the heavens by a strong breeze. Doña Rosario was a charming girl of sixteen, slender, fragile, and delicate, small in person, whose least gestures and least movements possessed inexpressible attractions. Of a rare kind of beauty in America, she was fair; her long silky hair was of the colour of ripe golden corn; her blue eyes, in which were reflected the azure of the heavens, had that melancholy, dreamy expression which we attribute only to angels, and young girls who are beginning to love; her nose, with its pinky nostrils, was inclined to be aquiline; while her mouth, rather serious, with rosy lips set off by teeth of dazzling whiteness, and her skin of pearl-like purity, altogether made her a charming creature.

The noise of the approaching young man's steps roused her from her reverie. She turned her head in the direction, and looked at him with inexpressible sadness, although a faint smile played upon her lips.

"It is I," said the Count, in a low, inarticulate voice, bowing respectfully.

"I knew of your coming," she replied, in a sweetly-toned voice. "Oh! why did you return to me at all?"

"Be not angry with me for drawing near you once more. I endeavoured to obey you; I left the spot you resided in, without, alas! even the hope of seeing you again; but destiny has decided otherwise."

She gave him a long and eloquent look.

"Unfortunately," he continued, with a melancholy smile, "you are condemned for some hours to endure my presence."

"I must resign myself to it," she said, extending her hand to him cordially.

The young man imprinted a burning kiss upon the white, soft hand he held.

"And so we are left alone!" she said gaily, but withdrawing her hand.

"Good heavens! yes, nearly so," he replied, falling in with her humour. "The Indian chiefs and the peons, overcome by curiosity, have joined the crowds, and kindly procured us a tête-à-tête."

"In the midst of ten thousand people!" she said, smiling.

"That is all the better; everyone is engaged with his own affairs, without troubling himself about those of others; and we can speak to each other without the fear of being interrupted by importunate persons."

"True," she said, thoughtfully; "it is frequently amidst a crowd that we find the greatest solitude."

"Does not the heart possess that great faculty of being able to isolate itself when it pleases – to fold itself, as it were, within itself?"

"And is not that faculty often a misfortune?"

"Perhaps it is," he replied, with a sigh.

"But how comes it?" she said, with a half-smiling air, in order to change the conversation, which was becoming a little too serious. "Pardon my giddy impertinence! How comes it, I say, that you, of whom I sometimes caught a glimpse at Paris, during my short sojourn there, and who then enjoyed, if I was not mistaken, a brilliant position, should meet me here so far from your country?"

"Alas! madam, my history is that of many young men, and may be summed up in two words – weakness and ignorance."

"That is but too true; that is the history of nearly all the world, in Europe as well as in America."

At this moment a great noise reached them from the camp. Doña Rosario and the Count were placed so as not to be able to see what was passing in the plain.

"What is that noise?" she asked.

"Probably the tumult of the festival which reaches us: should you like to be present at this ceremony?"

"To what purpose? Those cries and that tumult terrify me."

"And yet, I thought it was you who asked Don Tadeo to see this."

"A silly girl's caprice," she said, "which passed away as soon as conceived."

"But was it not Don Tadeo's intention to – "

"Who can tell Don Tadeo's intention?" she interrupted, with a sigh.

"He appears to love you tenderly?" Louis hazarded, timidly.

"Sometimes I am on the point of believing so; he pays me the most delicate attentions, shews me the tenderest care; then at other times he appears to endure me with, pain – he repulses me – my caresses annoy him."

"Singular conduct!" the Count observed; "this gentleman is your relation, there can be no doubt."

"I do not know," she replied ingenuously; "when alone and pensive, my thoughts stray back to my early years. I have some vague remembrance of a young and handsome woman, whose black eyes smiled upon me constantly, and whose rosy lips lavished affectionate kisses upon me; and then, all at once, a complete darkness comes over my brain, and memory entirely fails me. As far back as I can recollect, I find nobody but Don Tadeo watching over me, everywhere and always, as a father would do over his daughter."

"Perhaps, then," said the Count, "he is your father."

"Listen. One day, after a long and dangerous illness which I had just gone through, and in which Don Tadeo had night and day watched over my pillow for more than a month, happy at seeing me restored to life, for he had been fearful he should lose me, he smiled upon me tenderly, kissed my brow and my hands, and appeared to experience the most lively joy. 'Oh!' I said, as a sudden thought rushed across my mind; 'oh! you are my father! None but a father could devote himself with such abnegation for his child!' and throwing my arms round his neck, I concealed my tear-laden face on his chest. Don Tadeo arose, his countenance was lividly pale, his features were frightfully contracted; he repulsed me roughly, and strode hastily about the chamber. I Your father! I! Doña Rosario!' he cried, in a husky voice, 'you are a silly, poor child! Never repeat those words again; your father is dead, and your mother, likewise, long, long ago. I am not your father – never repeat that word – I am only your friend. Yes, your father, at the point of death, confided you to my care, and that is why I am bringing you up, that is why I watch over you; as to me, I am not even your relation!' His agitation was extreme; he said many other things which I do not now remember, and then he left me. Alas! from that day I have never ventured to ask him for any account of my family."

A silence ensued; the two young people were pensively thoughtful: the simple and touching recital of Doña Rosario had strongly affected the Count. At length he said, in a tremulous voice, —

"Let me love you, Doña Rosario!"

The maiden sighed.

"To what could that love lead, Don Louis?" she said sadly, – "to death, perhaps!"

"Oh!" he exclaimed madly; "and it would be welcome, if it came in your defence!"

At this very instant, several individuals rushed into the tent, uttering discordant cries. Quick as thought, the Count threw himself before the young girl, a pistol in each hand. But, as if Heaven had decreed that he should accomplish the wish he had just uttered, before he had time to defend himself, he was struck to the earth, stabbed by several machetes. In falling, he saw, as if in a dream, Doña Rosario seized by two individuals, who fled away with her in their arms. With an incredible effort, the young man succeeded in getting on his knees, and afterwards in rising altogether. He beheld the ravishers hastening towards their horses, which were being held at a short distance by an Indian. He took aim at the flying wretches, crying, with a faint voice, "Murder! Murder!" and fired.

One of the ravishers fell, uttering an imprecation of rage. The Count, exhausted by the superhuman effort he had made, staggered like a drunken man; the blood gushed from his ears, his sight grew dim, and he rolled senseless upon the ground.

CHAPTER XXX

THE PROTEST

The three travellers returned with such speed to Valdivia, that it scarcely took them an hour and a half to traverse the distance which divided the plain from the city. They passed on their way General Don Pancho Bustamente, at the head of a detachment of lanceros, and attended by a numerous staff; but the Dark-Hearts, employing their usual precautions, escaped notice. Don Tadeo cast an ironical glance at his enemy.

"Look," he said, with a somewhat malignant smile, to Don Gregorio, "at our worthy general; he fancies himself already protector. What a majestic bearing he affects!"