The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life

"Perfectly clear, señor, and hence I will not abuse your patience any longer: supply me with the requisite horses for my sister and myself, and I will leave you immediately."

"Hang me if I supply you with anything: as for this young lady, here are several gentlemen coming who, I am afraid, will hardly let you take her away with you."

Don Melchior turned pale with rage, but he comprehended that any resistance on his part was impossible: he folded his arms on his chest, drew himself up haughtily and waited. The Count, the majordomo, and Dominique were really hurrying up. Cuellar walked some paces toward them – and the young man felt rather anxious, for they did not know the partisan's intentions, and apprehended that he might declare against them.

But Cuellar hastened to disabuse them: "You arrive opportunely, señores," he said with a kindly accent: "I hope that you have not done me the insult of supposing that I was in any way connected with the trap to which you so nearly fell victims."

"We did not believe it for a moment, señor," the Count politely replied.

"I thank you for the good opinion you entertain of me, señores: of course you have come to request that this young lady may be delivered to you."

"That is certainly our intention, señor."

"And if I refuse to let you remove her," Don Melchior said fiercely.

"I shall blow out your brains, señor," the partisan coolly interrupted. "Believe me, you had better not try to contend with me, but rather profit by my present good temper to be off: for I might soon repent of this last reproof of my kindness I give you, and abandon you to your enemies."

"Be it so," Don Melchior remarked bitterly; "I will retire since I am compelled to do so;" and looking at the Count disdainfully, he added, "We shall meet again, señor, and then I hope, if the strength is not entirely on my side, that at least the chances will be equal."

"You have already been mistaken on that point, señor; I have too much confidence in God to believe that it will not always be so."

"We shall see," he replied in a hollow voice, falling back a few paces as if to withdraw.

"And your father – do you not wish to know what the result of your ambush has been with him?" Dominique then asked him in a tone of dull menace.

"I have no father," Don Melchior replied savagely.

"No," the Count exclaimed in disgust, "for you have killed him."

The young man shuddered, a livid pallor covered, his face, a bitter smile contracted his thin lips, and casting a venomous glance at those who surrounded him, he cried in a choking voice – "Make way; I accept this new insult; make way for the parricide."

Everybody recoiled with horror watching this monster, who departed across the plain, apparently calm and peaceful. Cuellar himself watched him retire with a shake of the head.

"That man is a demon," he muttered, and crossed himself.

This gesture was piously imitated by the soldiers. Doña Dolores was gently raised in Dominique's arms, placed on the Count's horse, and the young men, escorted by Cuellar, returned to Don Andrés. The peons had bound up their master's wounds to the best of their ability. By the Count's orders, they then made a litter of branches, which they covered with their zarapés, and the old gentleman was laid on it by his daughter's side. Don Andrés was still unconscious. Cuellar then took leave of the Count.

"I regret more than I can express this unfortunate event," he said with some degree of sadness. "Although this man is a Spaniard, and consequently an enemy of Mexico, still the lamentable state to which I see him reduced fills me with compassion."

The young men thanked the rough partisan for this proof of sympathy, and after collecting their wounded, they finally took leave of him, and sadly recommenced their journey to Puebla, where they arrived two hours later, accompanied by several relations of Don Andrés, who, warned by a peon sent on ahead, had come out to meet them.

CHAPTER XIX

COMPLICATIONS

Loïck ended his narrative. The ranchero's story had been a long one. Don Jaime listened, to it from one end to the other without interruption, with a cold and impassive face, but with flashing eyes.

"Is that all?" he asked Loïck, turning to him.

"Yes, all, Excellency."

"In what way were you so well informed of the slightest details of this awful catastrophe?"

"It was Domingo himself who related the events to me; he was half mad with rage and grief, and knowing that I was going to you, he ordered me to repeat to you – "

Don Jaime sharply interrupted him.

"Very good; did Domingo give you no other message for me?" he asked, fixing on him a fiery glance.

The ranchero became confused.

"Excellency," he stammered.

"Confound the Briton," the adventurer exclaimed; "what cause have you to tremble so? Come, speak or choke."

"Excellency," he said resolutely, "I am afraid I have done a stupid thing."

"By Heaven! I suspected it, if only from your air of contrition. Well, what is this folly?"

"It is," he continued, "that Domingo appeared in such despair at not knowing where to find you – he seemed to have such a desire to speak to you, that – "

"That you could not hold your tongue, and revealed to him – "

"Where you live; yes, Excellency."

After this confession, the ranchero bowed his head, as if he felt inwardly convinced that he had committed a great fault. There was a silence.

"Of course you told him under what name I concealed myself in this house?" Don Jaime continued a moment after.

"Hang it!" Loïck said simply, "if I had not done so he would have had a difficulty in finding you, Excellency."

"That is true; he is coming then?"

"I fear it."

"It is well."

Don Jaime walked up and down the room reflecting, then approaching Loïck, who was still motionless at his place, he asked him —

"Did you come alone to Mexico?"

"Lopez accompanied me, Excellency; but I have left him at a pulquería near the Belem gate, where he is waiting for me."

"Good, you will join him there, but say nothing to him; in an hour, not sooner, you will return here with him, perhaps I shall want you both."

"Good," he said, rubbing his hands; "all right, Excellency, we shall come."

"Now, be off."

"Pardon, Excellency, I have a note to deliver to you."

"A note! From whom?"

Loïck felt in his dolman, drew out a carefully sealed letter, and handed it to Don Jaime.

"Here it is," he said.

The adventurer took a glance at the address.

"Don Estevan!" he exclaimed with a cry of joy, and eagerly broke the seal.

The note, though short, was written in cypher – it was to the following effect: —

"Everything is going on admirably; our man is coming of his own accord to the bait held out to him. Saturday, midnight, peral."

"Hope!"

"CORDOVA."

Don Jaime tore the note up into imperceptible pieces.

"What day is this?" he suddenly asked Loïck.

"Today?" he repeated, startled by this question, which he did not at all anticipate.

"Ass! I suppose I did not mean yesterday or tomorrow."

"That is true, Excellency – this is Tuesday."

"Why could you not say so at once?"

Don Jaime again walked up and down the room in deep thought.

"Can I go?" Loïck ventured.

"You ought to have gone ten minutes ago," he answered sharply.

The ranchero did not require a repetition of this injunction. He bowed, and retired. Don Jaime remained alone, but at the end of a minute the door opened, and the two ladies came in again. Their faces were anxious, and they timidly approached the adventurer.

"You have received bad news, Don Jaime?" Doña Maria asked.

"Alas! Yes, sister," he answered, "very bad indeed."

"May we hear it?"

"I have no reason for concealing it from you; and, besides, it concerns people whom you love."

"Heavens!" said Doña Carmen, clasping her hands, "Can it be Dolores?"

"Dolores – yes, my child," Don Jaime answered; "Dolores, your friend; the Hacienda del Arenal has been surprised and burnt by the Juarists."

"Oh, Heavens!" the two ladies exclaimed sorrowfully; "Poor Dolores! And Don Andrés?"

"He is dangerously wounded,"

"Thank God, he is not dead."

"He is not much better."

"Where are they at this moment?"

"Sheltered in Puebla, where they arrived under the escort of some of their peons, commanded by Leo Carral."

"Oh! He is a devoted servant."

"But had he been alone, I doubt whether he would have succeeded in saving his masters; fortunately Don Andrés had at the hacienda two French gentlemen, the Count de la Saulnay."

"The gentleman who is going to marry Dolores?" Doña Carmen said eagerly.

"Yes, and the Baron Charles de Meriadec, attaché to the French embassy; it appears that these two young men performed prodigies of valour, and that it was through their bravery that our friends escaped the horrible fate which threatened them."

"May God bless them!" Doña Maria exclaimed; "Though I do not know them, I already feel an interest in them as if they were old friends."

"You will soon know one of them at least."

"Ah!" the young lady said curiously.

"Yes, I expect the Baron de Meriadec at any moment."

"We will receive him to the best of our ability."

"I wish you to do so."

"But Dolores cannot remain at Puebla."

"That is my opinion. I intend to go to her."

"Why could she not come to us?" Doña Carmen said; "She would be in safety here, and her father should not want for a nurse."

"What you are saying, Carmen, is very judicious; perhaps it would be as well for her to live for some time with you. I will think over it; before all, I must see Don Andrés, that I may convince myself of the state he is in, and whether he can be removed."

"Brother," Doña Maria observed, "I notice that you have told us about Dolores and her father, but you have not said a word about Don Melchior."

Don Jaime's face suddenly grew dark at this remark, and his features were contracted.

"Can any misfortune have happened to him?" Doña Maria exclaimed.

"Would to Heaven it were so!" he replied with a sadness mingled with anger; "Never speak to me about that man – he is a monster."

"Great Heaven! You terrify me, Don Jaime."

"I told you, I think, that the Hacienda del Arenal was surprised by the guerilleros."

"Yes," she said, quivering with emotion.

"Do you know who commanded the Juarists and served as their guide? Don Melchior de la Cruz."

"Oh!" the two ladies exclaimed in horror.

"Afterwards, when Don Andrés and his daughter obtained permission to retire safe and sound to Puebla, a man laid a snare for them a short distance from the town, and treacherously attacked them: this man was once again Don Melchior."

"Oh, this is horrible!" They said, as they hid their faces in their hands and burst into sobs.

"Is it not?" he continued; "The more horrible, as Don Melchior had coldly calculated on his father's death, that he wished by a parricide to seize his sister's fortune, a fortune to which he had no claim, and which the approaching marriage of Doña Dolores will entirely strip from him, or, at least, he believed so."

"This man is a monster!" said Doña Maria.

The two ladies were terrified by this announcement. Their intimacy with the de la Cruz family was great, the two younger ladies having been almost brought up together; they loved each other like sisters, although though Doña Carmen was a little older than Doña Dolores, hence the news of the misfortune which had so suddenly burst on Don Andrés filled them with grief. Doña Maria warmly urged Don Jaime to have Don Andrés and his daughter conveyed to Mexico and lodged in her house, when Doña Dolores would find that care and consolation which she must need so greatly after such a disaster.

"I will see, I will strive to satisfy you," Don Jaime replied; "still, I dare not promise you anything as yet. I intend to start this very day for Puebla, and if I were not expecting a visit from Baron de Meriadec I should set out at once."

"It would be the first time," Doña Maria said gently, "that I should see you leave us almost without regret."

Don Jaime smiled. At this moment they heard the outer gate opened, and a horse's hoofs re-echo in the zaguán.

"Here is the Baron," said the adventurer, and he went to meet his visitor.

It was really Dominique. Don Jaime offered him his hand, and giving him a significant glance, said in French, which language the ladies spoke very well —

"You are welcome, my dear Baron; I was impatiently expecting you."

The young man understood that he was to retain his incognito till fresh orders.

"I am really sorry at having kept you waiting, my dear Don Jaime," he answered, "but I have come at full speed from Puebla, and do not tell you anything new in saying that it is a long journey."

"I know it," Don Jaime remarked with a smile; "but let me introduce you to two ladies who desire to know you, and let us not remain any longer here."

"Ladies," Don Jaime said as he entered, "allow me to introduce to you Baron Charles de Meriadec, attaché to the French Embassy, one of my best friends, to whom I have before alluded. My dear Baron, I have the honour to present to you Doña Maria, my sister, and Doña Carmen, my niece."

Although the adventurer omitted, no doubt purposely, one-half of the ladies' names, the young man did not appear to notice it, and bowed respectfully.

"Now," Don Jaime resumed gaily, "you are one of the family; you are acquainted with our Spanish hospitality: if you require anything, speak; we are all at your service."

They sat down, and while taking refreshments, conversed —

"You can speak quite openly, Baron," Don Jaime said; "these ladies are aware of the frightful events at the hacienda."

"More frightful than you suppose, I fancy," the young man said; "and since you take an interest in this unhappy family, I am afraid to add to your grief, and be a messenger of evil tidings."

"We are intimately connected with Don Andrés de la Cruz and his charming daughter," Doña Maria observed.

"In that case, madam, forgive me if I have only bad news to impart to you."

The young man hesitated.

"Oh, speak! Speak!"

"I have only a few words to say: the Juarists have seized Puebla; the town surrendered to the first summons."

"The cowards!" the adventurer said, smiting the table with his fist.

"Were you ignorant of it?"

"Yes; I believed it to be still held by Miramón."

"The first business of the Juarists was, according to their invariable custom, to plunder and imprison the foreigners, and more especially the Spaniards residing in the town. Some were even shot without the pretence of a trial; the prisons are crowded; they have been obliged to employ several convents in which to bestow their prisoners. Terror reigns at Puebla."

"Go on, my friend; and Don Andrés?"

"Don Andrés, as, of course, you are aware, is dangerously wounded."

"Yes, I know it."

"His state admits of but slight hopes; the governor of the town, in spite of the representations of the notables and the entreaties of all honest people, had Don Andrés arrested as convicted of high treason – those are the very words of the warrant – in spite of the tears of his daughter and all his friends, he had been removed to the dungeons of the old Inquisition; the house occupied by Don Andrés has been plundered and destroyed."

"Why, this is frightful! It is barbarity!"

"Oh, that is nothing as yet."

"How, nothing?"

"Don Andrés was tried, and as he protested his innocence, in spite of all the efforts of the judges to make him condemn himself, he was subjected to torture."

"To torture!" the hearers exclaimed with a start of horror.

"Yes; this wounded, dying old man was suspended by the thumbs, and received the strappado on two different occasions. In spite of this martyrdom his torturers did not succeed in making him confess the crimes with which they charge him, and of which he is innocent."

"Oh, this surpasses all credence!" Don Jaime exclaimed; "And of course the hapless man is dead?"

"Not yet; or, at least, he was not so on my departure from Puebla. He had not even been condemned, for his murderers are in no hurry; time is their own, and they are playing with their victim."

"And Dolores!" Doña Carmen exclaimed; "Poor Dolores! How she must suffer!"

"Doña Dolores has disappeared; she has been carried off."

"Disappeared!" Don Jaime shouted in a voice of thunder; "And you still live to tell me of it?"

"I did all I could to be killed," he replied simply, "but did not succeed."

"Ah! I will find her again," the adventurer continued, "and the Count, what is he doing?"

"He is in a state of despair and is seeking her, aided by Leo Carral: while I came to you."

"You did well: I shall not fail you. Then the Count and Leo Carral have remained at Puebla?"

"Leo Carral alone. The Count was obliged to fly in order to escape the pursuit of the Juarists and has taken shelter at the rancho with his servants: every day his youngest valet Ibarru, I think that is his name, goes to the town to arrange measures with the majordomo."

"Was it from your own impulse that you came to me?"

"Yes, but I first consulted with the Count, as I did not like to act without having his advice."

"You were right, sister, prepare a suitable apartment for Doña Dolores."

"You will bring her back then?" the two ladies exclaimed.

"Yes, or perish."

"Shall we be off?" the young man cried impatiently.

"In a moment, I expect Loïck and Lopez."

"Is Loïck here?"

"It may be he who brought me the news about the surprise of the hacienda."

"It was I who sent him."

"I am aware of it. Your horse is fatigued, you will leave it here, when it will be taken care of, and I will give you another."

"Very good."

"Of course you heard the names of Don Andrés' principal persecutors?"

"They are three in number, the first is the first secretary, the tool of the new governor, his name is Don Antonio de Cacerbas."

"You have a lucky hand," the adventurer said ironically, "that is the man whose life you so philanthropically saved."

The young man uttered a roar like a tiger, "I will kill him," he said hoarsely.

Don Jaime gave him a glance of surprise.

"Then, you hate him thoroughly?" he asked him.

"Even his death will not satisfy me: the man's conduct is strange: he suddenly arrived in the town two days after the army: he only appeared and then went off again, leaving behind him a long train of blood."

"We shall find him again: who is the second?"

"Have you not guessed him already?"

"Don Melchior, I suppose."

"Yes."

"In that case, I know where to find Doña Dolores: it was he who carried her off."

"It is probable."

"And the third?"

"The third is a young man with a handsome face, soft voice, and noble manners, more terrible than both the others, it is said, though he has no official title: he seems to hold great power and passes for a secret agent of Juárez."

"His name?"

"Don Diego Izaguirre."

The adventurer's face brightened.

"Good," he said with a smile, "the affair is not so desperate as I feared; we shall succeed."

"Do you think so?"

"I am sure of it."

"May heaven hear you!" the two ladies exclaimed with clasped hands.

Doña Maria, ever since the arrival of the pretended baron, had been suffering from an extraordinary feeling, while the young man was conversing with Don Jaime. She gazed at him with strange intentness, she felt her eyes fill with tears and her bosom oppressed, she could not at all understand the emotion which was caused her by the sight and voice of this elegant young man, whom she now saw for the first time; in vain did she search her recollections to discover where she had already heard his voice, whose accent had something so sweetly sympathetic about it that went straight to her heart. She studied the handsome manly face of the vaquero, as if she were to discover in his features a fugitive resemblance to someone she had formerly known: but everything was a chaos in her memory, an insurmountable barrier seemed to be raised between the present and the past, as if to prove to her that she was allowing herself to be overpowered by a wild hope, and that the man who was before her, was really a stranger to her. Don Jaime attentively followed on Doña Maria's face the different feelings that were in turn reflected on it; but whatever his opinion on the subject might be, he remained cold, impassive, and apparently indifferent to the interludes of this family drama, which, however, must interest him to the highest degree. Loïck arrived followed by Lopez: a fresh horse was saddled for Dominique.

"Let us go," the adventurer said as he rose, "time presses."

The young man took leave of the ladies.

"You will return, will you not, sir?" Doña Maria graciously asked him.

"You are a thousand times too kind, madam," he answered, "I shall consider it a happiness to avail myself of your delightful invitation."

They left the room, Doña Maria seized her brother's arm.

"One word, Don Jaime," she said to him in a trembling voice.

"Speak, sister."

"Do you know this young man?"

"Intimately."

"Is he really a French gentleman?"

"He passes for such," he replied, looking at her intently.

"I was mad," she murmured, as she let go the arm she had hitherto held, and heaved a sigh.

Don Jaime went out without another word. Ere long the hoofs of the four horses urged at their full speed could be heard clattering in the street.

CHAPTER XX

THE SURPRISE

They galloped thus till night without exchanging a word. At sunset they reached a ruined rancho, standing like a sentry, on the skirt of the road. The adventurer made a sign and the riders pulled up their horses. A man came out of the rancho, looked at them, without saying a word, and then went in again. Some minutes elapsed; the man reappeared, but this time he came from behind the rancho, and was leading two horses by the bridle. These horses were saddled. The adventurer and Dominique leapt down, removed their alforjas and pistols, placed them on the fresh horses and remounted. The man returned a second time with other two horses, which Loïck and Lopez mounted. The man, still silent, collected the bridles of the four horses, and went off dragging them after him.

"Forwards!" Don Jaime cried.

They set out once more. The silent and rapid ride recommenced. The night was gloomy and the riders glided through the shadows like phantoms. All night they galloped thus. At about five a.m. they changed horses again at a half-ruined rancho. These men seemed made of iron; though they had been fifteen hours in the saddle, fatigue bad no hold on them. Not a word had been exchanged between them during this long ride.

At about ten o'clock in the morning, they saw the domes of Puebla glittering in the dazzling sunbeams. They had covered one hundred and twenty-six miles that separated that town from Mexico, in twenty hours, along almost impracticable roads. At about half a league from, the town, instead of continuing to advance in a straight line, at a sign from the adventurer, they turned off and entered a scarce traced path that ran through a wood. For an hour they galloped after Don Jaime, who had taken the lead of the cavalcade. They thus reached a rather extensive clearing, in the centre of which stood an euramada.

"We have arrived," said the adventurer, checking his horse and dismounting. "We will establish our headquarters here temporarily."

His companions leaped down and prepared to unsaddle their horses.

"Wait," he continued. "Loïck, you will go to your rancho, where the Count de la Saulnay and his servants are at present, and bring them here. You, Lopez, will fetch our provisions."

"Are we two going to wait under this euramada, then?" Dominique asked.

"No; for I am going to Puebla."

"Do you not fear being recognised?"

The adventurer smiled. Don Jaime and the vaquero were left alone. They removed their horses' bridles so that they might graze freely on the tender grass of the clearing.

"Follow me," said Don Jaime.