by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.
UNDER ARREST.
Scarce necessary to say that Luisa Valverde and Ysabel Almonte were atlength really alarmed--fully alive to a sense of their danger.
It was no more a question of the safety of their lovers, but their own.And the prospect was dark, indeed. Santander had said nothing of thereason for arresting them; nor had they cared to inquire. They divinedit; no longer doubting that it was owing to revelations made by thehunchback.
Sure now that this diminutive wretch not only himself knew their secret,but had made it known in higher quarters, there seemed no hope for them;instead, ruin staring them in the face. The indignity to their personsthey were already experiencing would be followed by social disgrace, andconfiscation of property.
"Oh, Ysabelita! what will they do to us?" was the Dona Luisa's anxiousinterrogatory, soon as they had got well inside their room. "Do youthink they'll put us in a prison?"
"Possibly they will. I wish there was nothing worse awaiting us."
"Worse! Do you mean they'd inflict punishment on us--that is, corporalpunishment? Surely they daren't?"
"Daren't! Santa Anna dare anything--at least, neither shame nor mercywill restrain him. No more this other man, his minion, whom you knowbetter than I. But it isn't punishment of that kind I'm thinking of."
"What then, Ysabel? The loss of our property? It'll be all taken fromus, I suppose."
"In all likelihood it will," rejoined the Condesa, with as muchunconcern as though her estates, value far more than a million, were notworth a thought.
"Oh! my father! This new misfortune, and all owing to me. 'Twill killhim!"
"No, no, Luisita! Don't fear that. He will survive it, if aughtsurvives of our country's liberty. And it will, all of it, be restoredagain. 'Tis something else I was thinking of."
Again the other asked "What?" her countenance showing increased anxiety.
"What we as women have more to fear than aught else. From the loss oflands, houses, riches of any sort, one may recover--from the loss ofthat, never!"
Enigmatic as were the words, Luisa Valverde needed no explanation ofthem, nor pressed for it. She comprehended all now, and signified herapprehension by exclaiming, with a shudder, "_Virgen Santissima_!"
"The prison they will take us to," pursued the Countess, "is a place--that in the Plaza Grande. We shall be immured there, and at the mercyof that man, that monster! O God!--O Mother of God, protect me!"
At which she dropped down upon a couch despairingly, with face buried inher hands.
It was a rare thing for the Condesa Almonte to be so moved--rather, toshow despondence--and her friend was affected accordingly. For therewas another man at whose mercy she herself would be--one like a monster,and as she well knew equally unmerciful--he who at that moment was underthe same roof with them--in her father's house, for the time its master.
"But, Ysabel," she said, hoping against hope, "surely they will not dareto--"
She left the word unspoken, knowing it was not needed to make hermeaning understood.
"Not dare!" echoed the Countess, recovering nerve and again rising toher feet. "As I've said, he'll dare anything--will Don Antonio Lopez DeSanta Anna. Besides, what has _he_ to fear? Nothing. He can show goodcause for our imprisonment, else he would never have had us arrested.Enough to satisfy any clamour of the people. And how would any one everknow of what might be done to us inside the Palacio? Ah, _Luisitaquerida_, if its walls could speak they might tell tales sad enough tomake angels weep. We wouldn't be the first who have been subjected toinsult--ay, infamy--by _El excellentissimo. Valga me Dios_!" she criedout in conclusion, stamping her foot on the floor, while the flash ofher eyes told of some fixed determination. "If it be so, that Palaceprison will have another secret to keep, or a tale to tell, sad andtragic as any that has preceded. I, Ysabel Almonte, shall die in itrather than come out dishonoured."
"I, too!" echoed Luisa Valverde, if in less excited manner, inspired bya like heroic resolve.
While his fair prisoners were thus exchanging thought and speech,Santander, in the _sala grande_ outside, was doing his best to pass thetime pleasantly. An effort it was costing him, however, and one farfrom successful. His last lingering hope of being beloved by LuisaValverde was gone--completely destroyed by what had late come to hisknowledge--and henceforth his love for her could only be as that ofTarquin for Lucretia. Nor would he have any Collatinus to fear--norival, martial or otherwise--since his master, Santa Anna, had longsince given up his designs on Don Ignacio's daughter, exclusivelybending himself to his scheme of conquest--now revenge--over theCondesa. But though relieved in this regard, and likely to have his ownway, Carlos Santander was anything but a happy man after making thatarrest; instead, almost as miserable as either of those he had arrested.
Still keeping up a pretence of gallantry, he could not command theircompany in the drawing-room where he had installed himself; nor, underthe circumstances, would it have been desirable. He was not alone,however; Major Ramirez and the other officers of his escort being therewith him; and, as in like cases, they were enjoying themselves. Howeverconsiderate for the feelings of the ladies, they made free enough withthe house itself, its domestics, larder, and _cocina_, and, above all,the cellar. Its binns were inquired into, the best wine ordered to bebrought from them, as though they who gave the order were the guests ofan hotel and Don Ignacio's drawing-room a drinking saloon.
Outside in the courtyard, and further off by the coach-house, similarscenes were transpiring. Never had that quiet _casa de campo_ known somuch noise. For the soldiers had got among them--it was the house of a_rebel_, and therefore devoted to ruin.
