The Pearl of the Andes: A Tale of Love and Adventure

Valentine shook his head, looking at him with astonishment; he could not comprehend his friend's conduct at all; he, however, determined to drive him into his last entrenchments.

"Well, this is the reason why: I wish to assure your happiness as soon as possible," he said. "The life I have been leading for a month past in this hacienda is oppressive to me. Since my arrival in America my character has changed: the sight of great forests, lofty mountains, in short, of all the sublime magnificence which God has spread with a bountiful hand in the desert, has developed the instincts of a traveller, the germ of which I carried at the bottom of my heart; the constantly recurring changes of the adventurous life which I have led for some time, cause me to experience pleasures without bounds: in a word, I have become a passionate wood ranger, and I pant for the moment when I shall be permitted to resume my aimless rambles in the desert."

A silence of some minutes ensued.

"Yes," the count murmured at length, "that life is indeed full of charms – "

"That is why I am so eager to launch again into these scenes of excitement."

"What prevents our resuming them?"

"What! why you, pardieu!"

"You are mistaken, brother. I am weary as you can be of the life we are leading; we will depart as soon as you please."

"That is not my meaning; be frank with me: it is impossible that the ardent love you felt for Doña Rosario could have evaporated thus all at once."

"What makes you think I do not love her?"

"Come! – come!" Valentine replied, "let us have an end of all this; if you love Doña Rosario, why do you want to leave this place, and why do you refuse to marry her?"

"It is not I who refuse," the young man murmured with a sigh, "it is she!"

"She! no – no! come! that is not possible!"

"Brother, a long time ago, the very next day after the night when at Santiago we delivered her from the hands of the bandits who were carrying her off, she herself told me that we never could be united. She ordered me to avoid her presence, and demanded my word of honour that I would never seek to see her again. Why, then, should I lull myself with a wild chimera! You see, brother, I have no hope left."

"Perhaps! – but so many things have taken place since that period that the intentions of Doña Rosario may have changed."

"No," the count replied, despondingly.

"What makes you suppose so?"

"Her coolness – her indifference to me; the care she takes to avoid me; everything, in short, proves that I have remained here too long, and that I ought to leave her dangerous society."

"Why do not you have an explanation with her?"

"I have sworn, and whatever it costs I will accomplish my vow."

Valentine hung his head, but made no reply.

"I implore you!" the count resumed, "let us remain no longer here; the sight of her I love increases my anguish."

"Have you reflected seriously upon this?"

"Oh, yes!" the young man replied, with an air of real or forced resolution.

"Well," said Valentine, shaking his head, "if such is your will, so it must be; we will begone, then!"

"Yes, and as soon as possible; do not you think so?" the young man said, with an involuntary sigh.

"Oh! this very day; I am only waiting for Curumilla, whom I have requested to go and procure horses. As soon as he returns we will start.

"And we will return to the toldería of the tribe of the Great Hare, where we can live happily."

"That is a good idea; in that way our existence will not be a useless one, since we can contribute to the happiness of those around us. And who knows?" Valentine added, smiling – "we may perhaps, become great warriors in Araucania."

Louis's only reply to this pleasantry was a sigh, which did not escape the notice of his friend.

"Oh!" Valentine murmured, "he must and shall be happy in spite of himself."

Curumilla and Trangoil-Lanec appeared in the distance amidst a cloud of dust, galloping towards the hacienda with several horses. The two young men rose to go and meet them.

Scarcely had they left the little grove when Doña Rosario put aside some low branches and came out. She paused thoughtfully for a minute, looking after the two Frenchmen, who were walking away sad and gloomy; then suddenly raising her head with a saucy air, her blue eye brightened, a smile stole over her lips, and she murmured with a pretty nod of her head —

"Hum! ah! – we shall see!"

Then she returned to the hacienda, bounding along like a frightened antelope.

Every morning at eight o'clock, in Spanish-American countries, the bells ring, to assemble at the same table the inhabitants of the hacienda – rom the owner who sits in the centre to the humblest peon who places himself modestly at the lower end. The breakfast is the hour chosen to meet each other and to pay the compliments of the morning, previous to commencing the rough labours of the day.

At the first stroke of eight Don Tadeo descended to the hall and stood before the table, his daughter being on his right hand. He saluted with a smile or a friendly word every one of the persons employed on the farm as they entered.

The two Frenchmen came in last. After cordially shaking hands with them, Don Tadeo assured himself by a glance that no one was wanting at the meeting, took off his hat, in which he was imitated by all present, and slowly and solemnly pronounced the blessing. At a wave of his hand all took their places.

The repast was short; it lasted little more than a quarter of an hour. The peons then returned to their labours under the order of the major-domo, and Don Tadeo desired the maté to be served.

No one remained in the hall but Don Tadeo, his daughter, the foster brothers, the two Indian chiefs, and Cæsar – if it be permissible to reckon a dog as company; the noble animal was crouched at the feet of Doña Rosario.

In a few minutes the maté had made its round on the company, and, yet without any apparent cause, a painful silence prevailed.

Don Tadeo was thoughtful; Doña Rosario was twisting her taper, rose-tipped fingers in the long silky ears of the dog, who had placed his great head upon her knees, with his large, intelligent eyes fixed upon her face.

The count and his foster brother were anxious, and yet afraid to open the subject that weighed upon their hearts; at length, however, Valentine became tired of this false position, and resolutely began.

"Well," he said, "what reply do you mean to make to Don Gregorio Peralta, Don Tadeo?"

"What I told you, my friend," said Don Tadeo, turning towards him. "Chili, henceforward liberated from the man who was dragging the country to destruction, no longer stands in need of me. I am determined to trouble myself no longer with politics. I have long enough devoted my life to the ungrateful labours I imposed upon myself to secure the independence of my country, and deliver it from the ambitious man who wished to enslave it. I have accomplished my task; the hour of repose has struck for me. I peremptorily refuse the presidency which Don Gregorio offers me in the name of the people, and will devote myself entirely to the happiness of my daughter."

"I cannot blame your resolution; it is noble and beautiful, Don Tadeo; it is Worthy of you," the count replied.

"And do you mean to send off this answer soon?" said Valentine.

"In a few minutes; but why do you ask me that question, pray?"

"Because," Valentine replied, "my friend and I will undertake, if you please, to convey it."

Don Tadeo opened his eyes with astonishment.

"How so?" he cried, "What do you mean by that? Can you think of leaving us?"

A melancholy smile played for a moment round the young man's lips; the ice was broken; the sacrifice must be bravely made, and he did not hesitate.

"Heaven is my witness," he said, shaking his head, "that it would be my most ardent wish to remain here."

"Yes," the count interrupted, taking, in spite of himself, a furtive glance at Rosario, who appeared to have no interest in what was passing; "yes, we have too long forgotten ourselves in your charming retreat. This delightful life enervates us; if we do not hasten to tear ourselves from it, we shall soon find it impossible to do so."

"You must leave us!" Don Tadeo repeated, whose countenance became cloudy, and his eyebrows contracted; "and what for?"

"Do you not know?" Louis replied, who took courage from the apparent carelessness of Rosario, "that when for the first time we had the good fortune to meet with you – "

"Good fortune for me!" Don Tadeo interrupted, warmly.

"Be it so!" said Valentine, striking in to assist his friend; "we were then in search of fortune. Well, and now," he continued, gaily, "thanks to Heaven that our assistance is no longer necessary to you, we are not willing to abuse your kind hospitality any longer."

"What does this mean?" Don Tadeo exclaimed, rising. "What do you call abusing my hospitality? Why do you employ such futile pretexts with me?"

"We must go!" the young man repeated, coldly.

"Oh! I cannot believe it is the thirst for gold which urges you to leave me. Your heart is too noble for that odious passion to gain possession of it."

"Don Tadeo, you do us but justice," the count replied; "it is not the thirst for gold which actuates us, for our intention on leaving you is to retire among the Aucas Indians."

Don Tadeo looked perfectly astonished.

"Do not form a bad opinion of us," the young man continued; "be assured that if a powerful motive did not oblige us to depart, I, at least, should be most happy to remain with you."

Don Tadeo walked up and down the hall in great agitation.

"Can you not tell me the motive you speak of," he said in an affectionate tone.

The young lady turned her head imperceptibly.

"I cannot!" Louis murmured, bowing his head.

Rosario shrugged her shoulders with an air of disappointment.

"Very well, caballero," Don Tadeo replied, with cold dignity; "you and your friend are free to act as to you seems best. Pardon me the questions I have put to you, but your resolution, which I in vain endeavour to account for, has destroyed past recovery a cherished hope, which I should have been most happy to have seen realised. Here is my letter to Don Gregorio Peralta; when do you wish to set out?"

"This very instant!" the count replied; "my friend and I intended to bid you farewell immediately after breakfast."

"Yes," Valentine continued, who perceived that his foster brother, overcome by his feelings, could not say any more; "we beg you to accept our thanks for the friendship you have deigned to display towards us, and to assure you that the remembrance of you will live in the bottom of our hearts."

"Farewell, then!" Don Tadeo said, with great emotion. "God grant that you may find elsewhere the happiness that awaited you here."

Valentine bowed without replying; his tears choked his utterance.

"Adieu, señorita!" murmured the count, in a tremulous low voice; "may you be happy?"

She made no reply: deeply wounded, he turned away quickly, and strode towards the door. In spite of all their resolution, when on the point of going out, the young men cast one look behind them, to salute for the last time persons who were so dear to them, and whom they were abandoning for ever. Don Tadeo stood motionless in the same place, apparently still as much surprised as hurt. Doña Rosario continued playing mechanically with the ears of the dog.

"Cæsar!" shouted Valentine.

At the voice of his master, the Newfoundland dog disengaged himself quickly from the arms of the young girl, and bounded to his side.

"Cæsar!" Rosario murmured faintly.

And then, in spite of the signs and orders of his master, the animal laid itself down at her feet.

With a bursting heart, the count made a violent effort, and sprang towards the door.

"Louis!" Rosario cried. "Louis, you have sworn never to be separated from Cæsar."

Louis staggered, as if struck by lightning; a glow of inexpressible joy lit up his face; he let the letter fall, and gently thrust forward by Valentine, fell at the feet of the lovely and now smiling girl.

"My father!" Rosario implored, throwing her arm round his neck, "I well knew that he loved me."

Valentine felt an acute pang mixed with an immense joy at this denouement.

"It is I," he said, picking up the letter with a smile, of which none but such a man is capable, "who must carry the answer."

"Oh, no!" Doña Rosario said, with a playful pout, "You will not leave us, my friend; are you not the dearly beloved brother of my Louis? Oh, we will not let you go!"

Valentine kissed the hand extended to him, and secretly wiped away a tear, but he made no reply.

The day passed away rapidly and happily for all; when night was come —

"Farewell, brother!" said Valentine, with deep emotion. "Thank Heaven, you are henceforth sheltered from all misfortune."

The count looked at him anxiously.

"Brother," he said, "are you unhappy?"

"Who, I?" said Valentine, endeavouring to smile, "I never was so happy in my life!"

After embracing the count, who gave way to him, though astonished at the sudden appearance of grief in such a man, he strode away. Louis watched him depart, saying to himself —

"What can be the matter with him? Oh, tomorrow he shall explain himself!"

But on the morrow Valentine had disappeared.

He also loved Doña Rosario.

The young people waited for him a long time. At length, three months after his departure, when all hopes of his return had completely vanished, the Count de Prébois-Crancé married Doña Rosario. But Valentine was wanting.

Those of our readers who have taken an interest in Valentine, and we hope that they are numerous, will find his further adventures recorded in the "TIGER-SLAYER."

THE END