The Adventurers
The wounded man shook his head.
"You, Don Tadeo, whose lofty brow has never bent before revolutionary storms; you, who in the most trying circumstances have always remained firm, are now pale and cast down, without faith in the present, or hope in the future, and have lost strength and courage through the vain threats of a woman!"
"That woman," he replied mournfully, "has always been my evil genius. She is a demon!"
"And suppose," the unknown exclaimed energetically, "that this woman should succeed in getting up another of the infamous schemes in which her brain is so fertile, a man of heart takes courage in a struggle? Forget these impotent hatreds that can never reach you; remember what you are; look boldly at the glorious mission which is imposed upon you."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you not understand me? Can you believe that God, who has this night allowed you so miraculously to escape death, has not great designs in store for you? Brother," he added, in a tone of authority, "the existence that has been restored to you is not your own, it belongs to your country!"
A moment of silence followed this appeal, during which Don Tadeo appeared a prey to profound despair. At length, looking at the unknown, he said with bitter despondency —
"What is to be done? Heaven is my witness that my only desire, my sole happiness, would be to see my country free. But during the twenty years we have been struggling we have done nothing, alas! but pass from one tyranny to another, each time riveting afresh the chains which bind us. No! Heaven itself seems to forbid our contending longer against an implacable destiny. You know well from experience that citizens cannot be improvised from slaves. Servitude destroys moral virtue, abases the soul, and degrades the heart. Many generations must pass away before the inhabitants of this unfortunate country will be fit to form a people!"
"By what right do you presume to fathom the designs of Providence?" the unknown replied, in an imposing tone of voice. "Do you know what is reserved for you? Who tells you that the passing triumph of our oppressors is not granted by God, in His boundless wisdom, in order to render their future fall more terrible?"
Don Tadeo, restored to himself by the manly words of his disguised friend, drew himself up proudly, and looked attentively at the speaker.
"And who are you," he said, "whose sympathetic voice has stirred the most secret fibres of my heart? Who authorizes you to speak thus? Answer! Who are you?"
"Of what importance is it who I am," the unknown remarked, calmly, "if I succeed in persuading you that all is far from being lost – that the liberty which you believe for ever destroyed has never been so near triumphing, and that it only perhaps requires one sublime effort to recover it!"
"But still?" the wounded man said, persistently.
"I am he who, a few minutes ago, saved your life. That ought to suffice."
"Not so," Don Tadeo said, warmly, "for you conceal your features under a mask, and the very circumstance you named gives me a right to see them."
"Perhaps it does," the unknown said, slowly removing his mask, and revealing to Don Tadeo, in the pale beams of the moon, a countenance with manly, marked features, and wearing a frank and loyal expression.
"Oh! my heart did not deceive me!" Tadeo cried – "Don Gregorio Peralta!"
"Yes, it is I, Don Tadeo!" the young man, he was scarcely thirty, replied – "and cannot comprehend the depression of the man whom the avengers have chosen as their chief."
"How do you know? Notwithstanding our friendship, I have always concealed from you – "
"Were you not condemned to death?" Don Gregorio interrupted. "Your companions elected me King of Darkness in your place, that is, they placed in my hands an immense power, as they had done in yours, of which I was left the uncontrolled disposal. Death unbound the oath of silence imposed upon the brethren. Your name was unknown to all; I was as ignorant that you were the energetic chief who had made our society a power, as you were, my dear friend, that I was one of your soldiers. But, thanks be to God, you are saved, Don Tadeo! Resume your place. You alone, under present circumstances, are able to fill worthily the post which our confidence has assigned you. Become again the King of Darkness! But," he added, in a deep, concentrated tone, "remember that we are the avengers; that we ought to be without pity for ourselves as for others; that one feeling, and one alone, ought to live in our souls – the love of our country!"
Then followed a short silence; the two men appeared to be reflecting deeply. At length Don Tadeo raised his head proudly.
"Thanks, Don Gregorio!" he said, in a firm voice, and pressing his hand – "thanks for your rough words; they have restored me to myself. I will prove myself worthy of you. Don Tadeo de Leon no longer exists; the hired assassins of a tyrant have shot him tonight upon the Plaza Mayor. No one is left but the King of Darkness! the implacable leader of the Dark-Hearts! Woe be to them whom God shall bring across my path! for I will crush them without pity. We shall triumph, Don Gregorio; for from this day I am no longer a man, I am the avenging sword, the exterminating angel, fighting for our country!"
While uttering these words, Don Tadeo had drawn his imposing stature up to its full height; his handsome, noble features became animated, and his eyes sparkled in accordance with his speech.
"Oh," Don Gregorio exclaimed, cheerfully, "I have found my friend again! Thank God! thank God!"
"Yes, my brother," the leader continued, "from this moment the real struggle between us and the tyrant begins – a struggle without pity, without truce, and without mercy, which can only terminate in the complete extinction of our enemies. Woe be to them! Woe!"
"No time is to be lost; let us begone!" Don Gregorio said.
"But whither am I to go?" Don Tadeo asked, with a sardonic smile. "Am I not legally dead in the eyes of all? My house is no longer mine."
"That is true," the lieutenant of the Dark-Hearts murmured. "Well, never mind that! Tomorrow the news of your miraculous resurrection will be a thunderclap to our enemies! Their awaking will be terrible! They will learn with stupor that the invincible athlete, whom they thought they had for ever crushed beneath their feet, is up again, and ready to renew the contest."
"And this time, I solemnly swear," Don Tadeo cried, with energy, "the fall of the tyrant alone shall terminate it. But you are right; we cannot remain longer here. Come home with me; for a time you will be there in safety; unless," he added, with a smile, "you prefer asking an asylum of Doña Rosario?"
Don Tadeo, who had taken Don Gregorio's arm, stopped suddenly at this question, of which his friend did not suspect the terrible extent. A convulsive shudder darted through his frame, a cold perspiration inundated his face.
"Oh," he exclaimed, in a tone of agony, "my God! I had forgotten!"
Don Gregorio was terrified at the state he beheld him in.
"In heaven's name, what is the matter?" he asked.
"What is the matter!" the chief replied, in a voice choked with emotion, "that woman – that serpent whom we have weakly failed to crush – "
"Well, what of her?"
"Oh, I have but this moment recollected a horrible threat she made. Good heavens! good heavens! What is to be done?"
"Explain yourself, my friend; you quite terrify me."
"By her orders, Doña Rosario this very night, was to be carried off; and who knows if, furious at my escape from her assassins, that woman has not by this time put her to death?"
"Oh, that is frightful!" Don Gregorio cried. "What is to be done?"
"Oh, that woman!" the wounded man replied; "and not to be able to act, or to know how to thwart her horrible schemes."
"Let us fly to Doña Rosario's residence!" Don Gregorio said.
"Alas! you see I am wounded; I can scarcely support myself."
"Well, when you can no longer walk, I will carry you," his friend said, resolutely.
"Thanks, brother! May God help us!"
And the two men, the one leaning upon the other, set off, as fast as the state of Don Tadeo would permit, towards the residence of the lady whom they were so anxious to save. But, in spite of the earnest will that animated him, Don Tadeo felt his strength fail him; and, notwithstanding all his efforts, it was with extreme difficulty he sustained himself. Whilst labouring on thus, the noise of horses' footsteps reached them from a distance. Torches gleamed up the street, and a troop of horsemen appeared in sight.
"Oh, oh!" Don Gregorio said, stopping, and endeavouring to make out who those persons could be, who, in defiance of the police regulations, dared to be passing along the streets at this hour of the night.
"Let us stop," Don Tadeo replied; "I see the glitter of uniforms. They are the spies of the minister of war."
"By Saint Jago!" cried Don Gregorio, "it is General Bustamente himself! The two accomplices are going to have a little chat together."
"Yes," the wounded man said, in a faltering voice; "he is going towards the residence of the Linda."
As the horsemen were but at a short distance, the two men, fearing to be surprised, turned quickly into a side street, and the General and his suite passed by without seeing them.
"Let us begone as fast as possible," Don Gregorio said; and his companion, aware of the urgency for prompt flight, made a desperate effort. They resumed their course, and had walked for about ten minutes, when they heard the steps of more horses coming towards them.
"What can this mean?" the wounded man said, endeavouring to smile; "Are all the people of Santiago running about the streets tonight?"
"Hum!" said Don Gregorio, "I will find out this time."
All at once a female voice was heard in a lamentable tone imploring help.
"Make her hold her tongue, carajas!" a man said, coarsely.
But the sound of that voice had reached the ears of Don Tadeo and his friend. At that voice, which both had recognized, they were roused to feelings of deep interest and anger. They pressed each other's hand firmly; their resolution was formed – to die or to save her who called upon them for help.
"Holloa! what is this about?" another individual said, pulling up his horse.
Two men, standing firmly in the middle of the street, seemed determined to bar the passage of the horsemen, of whom there were five. One of them held a woman before him on his horse.
"Holloa!" cried the one who had just spoken, "get out of the way, if you don't wish to be ridden over."
"You shall not pass," a deep voice replied, "unless you release the woman you are bearing off."
"Shan't we?" the horseman remarked with a laugh.
"Try," said Don Gregorio, cocking his pistol; a movement silently imitated by Don Tadeo, whom he had supplied with firearms.
"For the last time, stand out of the way!" the horseman shouted.
"We will not!"
"We will ride over you, then!" and turning towards his companions, "Forward!" he cried angrily.
The five horsemen advanced with uplifted sabres upon the two men, who, firmly fixed in the middle of the street, made no effort to avoid them.
CHAPTER X
SWORD-THRUSTS
In order to make the facts that follow intelligible, we must leave Don Tadeo and his friend in their critical position, and return to the two principal personages of this history, whom we have so long neglected. We saw in a preceding chapter the two foster brothers gaily leaving Valparaiso, to repair to the capital of Chili, like Bias, carrying all their fortune with them, but possessing over the philosophical Greek the immense advantage of being amply furnished with hopes and illusions, two words which, in this life, have but too frequently the same meaning.
After a rather long ride, the young men had stopped for the night in a miserable rancho constructed of mud and dry branches, the dismal skeleton of which stood out on one side of the road. The inhabitant of this miserable dwelling, a poor devil of a peon, whose life was passed in guarding a few head of lean cattle, gave our travellers a frank and hospitable reception. Quite delighted at having something to offer them, he had cheerfully shared with them his charqui– strips of meat, dried in the sun – and his harina tostada– roasted corn – the whole washed down with cups of detestable chicha.
The Frenchmen, who had been literally dying of hunger, were glad of even these humble viands, however little savoury they might be, and after ascertaining that their horses were comfortably provided for, they lay down, wrapped in their ponchos, upon a heap of dry leaves, a delicious bed for fatigued men, and upon which they slept soundly till morning.
At daybreak, our two adventurers, still accompanied by their dog Cæsar, who, whatever he might think, expressed no astonishment at this new kind of life, but trotted seriously beside them, saddled their horses, bade farewell to their host, to whom they gave a few reals in return for his hospitality, and set forward again, looking with earnest curiosity at every object that presented itself to their view, and surprised to find so little difference between the New World and the Old. The life they were beginning, so different from that they had hitherto led, was, for them, full of unexpected charms, and they felt like schoolboys in holiday time. Their lungs seemed to expand to inhale the fresh, sharp breeze of the mountains. Everything, in their eyes, wore a smiling aspect; in a word, they felt they lived.
It is about thirty-five leagues from Valparaiso to Chili, as the people of the country are accustomed to call the capital of the Republic. The handsome, broad, and well-kept up road, which was formerly cut through the mountain by the Spaniards, is rather monotonous, and completely devoid of interest for tourists. Vegetation is rare and poor; a fine and almost impalpable dust arises with the least puff of wind. The few trees, which stand at long distances from each other, are slender, stunted, dried up by both wind and sun, and seem, by their wretched appearance, to protest against the efforts at cultivation which have been made on this plateau, which is rendered sterile by the strong sea breezes and the cold winds of the Cordilleras which sweep over it.
At times may be seen, at an immense height, like a black dot in space, the great condor of Chili, the eagle of the Andes, or the savage vulture in search of prey. At long intervals pass recuas of mules, headed by the yegua madrina, whose sonorous bells are heard to a great distance, accompanying, well or ill, the dismal chant of the muleteer, who thus endeavours to keep his beasts going. Or else it is a guaso of the interior, hastening to his chacra or his hacienda, and who, proudly mounted upon a half wild horse, passes like a whirlwind, favouring you as he goes by, with the eternal "Santas tardes, caballero!"
With the exception of what we have described, the road is dull, dusty, and solitary. There is not, as with us, a single hostelry affording accommodation for horse and foot; these would be useless establishments in a country where the stranger enters every house as if it were his own home. Nothing! Solitude everywhere and always; hunger, thirst, and fatigue must be expected and endured.
But our young men perceived nothing of this. Enthusiasm supplied the place of all they wanted; the road appeared charming to them; the journey they were making, delightful! They were in America; beneath their feet was the soil of the New World, that privileged land, of which so many surprising accounts are given; of which so many people talk, and about which so few know anything. Having landed only a few days before, while still under the impressions of an endless passage, the weariness of which had weighed down their spirits like a mantle of lead, they beheld Chili through the enchanting prism of their hopes; reality did not yet exist for them. What we have here said may appear a paradox to many people; and yet, we are satisfied that all travellers of good faith will acknowledge the exact truth.
At times travelling at a steady foot pace, at others enjoying a laugh and a gallop, our young men, to whom the political events of the Chilian Republic were very uninteresting, and who, consequently, knew nothing of what was going on, arrived quietly within a league of Santiago, at about eleven o'clock in the evening, just at the moment when the ten Chilian patriots were falling on the Plaza Mayor, beneath the balls of General Bustamente's soldiers.
"Let us pull up here," Valentine said cheerfully; "it will give our horses time to breathe."
"Pull up! what for?" Louis asked. "It is late; we shall not find a single hotel open."
"My dear friend," Valentine replied, with a laugh, "you are still a Parisian to the backbone! You forget that we are in America. In that city, of which the numerous steeples dimly stand out on the horizon before us, everybody is long since asleep, and all the doors are closed."
"What shall we do, then?"
"Pardieu! why, we will bivouac. The night is magnificent. The heavens display all their jewelry; the air is warm and balmy; what better could we desire?"
"Oh, nothing, of course!" Louis replied, laughingly.
"Well, then, we have, as you see, time to chat a little."
"Chat, brother! why, we have done nothing else since morning."
"Pardon me, I don't agree with you. We have talked much, about all sorts of things, of the country in which we are, and of the manners of the inhabitants, little as we know about them; but we have not talked in the manner I mean."
"Explain yourself more clearly."
"Look you, brother; an idea has just struck me. We know not what adventures await us in that city, yonder, before us. Well! before we enter it, I should like to have a sort of final conversation with you."
The young men took off their horses' bridles, that the animals might have the advantage of a few tufts of grass which sprang up here and there; and, stretching themselves luxuriously upon the ground, they lit their cigars.
"We are in America," Valentine resumed; "in the country of gold, upon that soil where, with intelligence and courage, men of our age can in a few years amass princely fortunes!"
"Do you know, my friend – " interrupted Louis.
"Oh, perfectly!" said Valentine, cutting him short. "You are in love, and you are seeking the object of your love; that's understood: but that does not at all interfere with our projects – quite the contrary."
"How is that?"
"Pardieu! that's plain enough. You know, do you not, that Doña Rosario – that's her name, I think – "
"Yes."
"Very well, then; you know she is rich, do you not?"
"There's no doubt of that."
"Ay, ay! but be it understood, not rich as with us: that is to say, some fifty thousand francs a year – a paltry pittance! – but rich as people are here – a dozen times over millionaires!"
"Probably she may be," the young man said impatiently.
"That's capital! You must understand, then, that when we have found her, for we shall find her, and that soon, you can only demand her hand by producing a fortune equal to her own."
"The devil! I never thought of that," said the young man.
"I know you did not; you are in love; and, like all other men afflicted with that disease, you think of nothing but the person you love. Fortunately, however, I am with you, to think for both; and whenever you have spoken to me of love, I have replied by reminding you of fortune."
"That is true. But how is fortune to be made so promptly?"
"Ah! ah! you have come to that question at last," Valentine said, laughing.
"I know no profession," Louis continued, following his own idea.
"Nor I either. But let not that alarm you; people succeed best in things they don't understand."
"What's to be done?"
"I will think of it; so set your mind at rest. But you must be well convinced of one thing, and that is, that we have set foot in a land where the ideas are quite different from those of the country we have left; where the manners and customs are diametrically opposite."
"You mean to say – "
"I mean to say that we must forget all we have learnt, in order that we may remember but one thing – our desire quickly to make a colossal fortune."
"By honourable means?"
"I am acquainted with no other," Valentine replied, seriously. "And remember, brother, that in the country in which we at present are, the point of honour is not at all the same as in France, and many things which with us would appear false coin are here deemed good and passable. On this point a word to the wise! You understand me, don't you?"
"Nearly, I think."
"Very well! Imagine we are in an enemy's country, and must act accordingly."
"But – "
"Do you wish to marry the woman you love:"
"Can you ask me such a question?"
"Allow me to act, then, as I see best! But, above all, when chance throws a good opportunity in our way, let us be careful not to miss it."
"Act just as you please."
"Well, that is all I had to say to you;" and throwing away the remains of his cigar, he rose from his recumbent position.
They were soon again in the saddle, and, at a foot's pace, resumed their way towards the city, chatting as they went.
Midnight was striking by the clock of the Cabildo at the moment when they entered Santiago by the Canada. The streets were deserted and silent.
"Everybody is asleep," said Louis.
"So it seems," Valentine replied. "Let us look out, notwithstanding. If we find no door open, we can then but compound for a night's bivouac, as I suggested."
At this moment two pistol shots were heard, mingled with the gallop of horses.
"What can that be?" said Louis. "Assassination is going on here!"
"Forward! cordieu!" replied Valentine.
They clapped spurs to their horses, and galloped at full speed in the direction whence the sound proceeded. They soon reached a narrow street, in the middle of which two men on foot were bravely contending with five on horseback.
"Have at the horsemen!" Valentine shouted; "help the weaker party!"
"Be of good heart, gentlemen!" said Louis; "help is at hand!"
And timely help it was for Don Gregorio and his friend. A minute later, and they must have succumbed. The providential arrival of the Frenchmen quickly changed the appearance of the fight. Two horsemen fell dead from pistol shots fired by the young men; while a third, knocked down by Don Gregorio, was silently strangled by Cæsar. The other two thought it high time to decamp, leaving their fair prisoner behind them. She had fainted; and Don Tadeo, leaning against the wall of a house, was upon the point of following her example. Valentine, with the presence of mind acquired in his old profession of a Spahi, secured the horses of the bandits killed in the skirmish.
"Quick, gentlemen! to the saddle!" Valentine said to the Chilians.
Louis had already dismounted, and was attending to the young lady.
"Do not leave us," Don Gregorio remarked; "we are surrounded by enemies."
"Fear nothing!" said Valentine, "we are quite at your service."
"Many thanks! – A little assistance, if you please, to place my friend, who is wounded, on horseback."
Once in the saddle, Don Tadeo declared he felt sufficiently strong to keep his seat without help. Don Gregorio placed the still inanimate young lady before him.
"Now, gentlemen," he said, "nothing remains for me but to thank you most cordially, if your business will not allow you to remain longer with us."
"I beg to repeat, caballeros, that we are at your service."
"We have no pressing demand upon our time; we will not leave you till we are assured you are in safety," Louis said, with animation.
"Follow me, then," said Don Gregorio, with a bow; "and do not spare the horses; it is an affair of life and death."
And the four horsemen set off as fast as their horses could bear them.
"Eh! eh!" said Valentine, in an undertone to his foster brother. "Here is an adventure that promises something! We are losing no time at Santiago! What think you?"
"We shall see!" Louis replied, in a more thoughtful tone.
No light had gleamed out, no window had been opened, during the combat. The streets remained silent and gloomy; the city seemed abandoned. Nothing was to be heard but the clatter of the horses' feet upon the rough pavement of the streets through which they galloped. The cathedral clock struck two as they passed across the Plaza Mayor. Don Tadeo could not repress a sigh of relief when glancing at the spot where on, only a few hours before, he had so miraculously escaped death.