The Missourian

by Eugene P. Lyle

  CHAPTER XX

  IN THE WAKE OF PRINCELY CAVALCADES

  "... Now swell out, and with stiff necks Pass on, ye sons of Eve! vale not your looks, Lest they descry the evil of your path." --_Dante_.

  The Grand Equerry was again the Dignitary of the hour. He held theEmperor's stirrup, while the Emperor, fittingly attired, swunggracefully astride a curvetting charger. Behind was his coach, ready forhim when he should tire of the saddle. It was already late in theafternoon, and he meant to travel all night. Flatterers begged him toconsider the importance of his health, which but made him unyielding.Some slight martyrdom for his country appealed to Maximilian. No, hesaid, grave affairs might be afoot since the Confederacy's surrender.The capital needed his presence, and he reminded them that the Statecame first, as always.

  The retinue climbed into carriages. The escort, Dragoons, Austrians andContra Guerrillas, formed in hollow square about their prince. ColonelDupin scowled because he was going. Colonel Lopez, when unobserved,scowled because he was left behind. And Monsieur Eloin, at the Emperor'sside, thought well of himself in substituting for a rival favorite oneso distant from favoritism as the Tiger. The Dragoons and Austrians whowere to remain presented arms on the hacienda porch, and Lopez gave themthe cue for a parting viva. The emancipated peons, still wet fromspiritual grace, swelled the din gratefully and stridently, lured to itby their thoughtful pastor, the hacienda curate.

  But Maximilian still lingered. He looked from window to window under thecolonnade, and seemed expectant. But Lopez signaled to the buglers, andthe trumpet call and the redoubled huzzas of a people thrilled him outof his melancholy. With a sigh he gave over his private loves and poesy.He breathed deep and his eyes flashed. And as the grand monarch andgood, he departed with the acclaim of posterity in his ears, consciousthat the superb figure he made was for History's contemplation.

  At this time the Marquise d'Aumerle was half way up a ladder in thegarden. She was picking the fragrant china blossoms, tossing them downto Berthe's apron, and humming "Mironton, mironton, mirontaine" inblissful indifference to many things, to princes among them.

  Nor was the other girl behind the hacienda shutters. Yet she, at least,saw him ride away. High up in the chapel tower, between the bell and themasonry, crouched a sobbing little figure. She gazed and gazed, withstraining eyes. Over there below, in front of her father's house, wereglittering swords and dazzling helmets, and the sheen of gildedescutcheons on coach doors. And as the beautiful pageant wound its wayalong the highroad, she watched in fawn-like curiosity. The sobs wereonly involuntary. She was not thinking, then, that this was matter forgrief. Her dark eyes, that had been weeping, and were now so dry, heldto a certain one among the cavaliers, to the very tall and splendid onewith the slender waist, and they kept him jealously fixed among theothers, and were ever more impatient of the blurring distance. But whenfinally he was lost for an instant in the general bright haze of thecompany, and she could not be quite sure after that which was he, thenindeed the eyelids fluttered in a kind of despair. Yet only after thelast carriage had vanished under the giant banana leaves of the hillbeyond, did the tears come and tremble upon her lashes.

  "He is married, the Emperor," she told herself, as though the fact werethat second written across the burning sky. At last, full, grimcomprehension was hers.

  The stones of the tower glowed like a brazier in the sun, but the girl,with her head on her arm against the parapet, shivered as with cold; anda numbness at her heart grew heavier and heavier, like weighted ice.

  Below her the barren knoll, where an hour before swarthy stolid hundredshad crowded awaiting baptism, was lonely as the grave. The peons weredispersing to their village down by the river junction, or to their hutsnear the hacienda store, and on the air floated the falsetto nasal oftheir holiday songs, breaking ludicrously above the mumbling bass ofloosely strung harps. Nearer by, the only life was an old man with afife and a boy with a drum, who marched round and round the chapel,playing monotonously, while a second urchin every five minutes touchedoff a small cannon at the door. They did these things with solemnearnestness. It was to achieve an end, for San Felipe's day would comesoon, and meantime each and every lurking devil had to be driven off thesacred precincts. But there was one hideous fiend who grinned, andpinched, and shrieked. His abode was the girl's heart, and he shriekedto her gleefully, that she could never, never in life, wed the man sheloved. The fife and drum and the stupid little cannon simply made himthe merrier.

  * * * * *

  The imps were left in peace for the night, and all about the chapel wasdark and silent and desolate. But a man was working stealthily at one ofthe rear windows. It was a square, barred window, near the ground. Theman chipped away at the granite sill with short, quick blows. The buttof his chisel was padded in flannel, so that even a chuckling thatescaped him now and again made more sound than the steel. Soon hedropped his tools, and wrapping either hand around a window bar, hebraced both feet together against the wall, and pulled. The two barsscraped slowly toward him across the stone. Then, with a sharp, downwardjerk he tore them out. Quickly he climbed inside and cut the ropes of aman who lay bound on the floor. Both men emerged noiselessly through thewindow.

  "Have a care how you step," whispered the rescuer. "Your faithful guardsare busy sleeping and don't want any disturbance."

  "That candle-stinking sacristy!" grumbled the rescued.

  "But it's the only stone calaboose on the ranch. In fact, _I_suggested it, since Don Rodrigo should be kept tight and safe. That'swhy Dupin left me behind." The rescuer chuckled as before. "Careful,hombre, there's a guard there, lying right in front of you!"

  Rodrigo made out the prostrate form, and lifted a boot heel over theupturned face. But his liberator jerked him aside.

  "Fool, you'll wake the fat padre, and he doesn't like my jests, saysthey're inspired of the Evil One."

  "Thinking of the Bishop of Sonora's waiting maid, was he?"

  "Well, what of it? Didn't he elope here with her?"

  "And you, Don Tiburcio?"

  "Of course; she naturally wanted to correct her first bad taste."

  "By running away with you? If you call that good taste----"

  "I call that a good joke on the padrecito."

  Having by this time come safely to the front of the church, Rodrigo wasfor making certain his escape at once. But Tiburcio interposed. "There'ssome talk still due between you and me," he said. "Sit down, here in thedoorway."

  "Well?" said the brigand uneasily.

  "Well?" repeated his jocular friend.

  "Well, there isn't even a moon and we can't deal monte, as if thatweren't the same as giving you what you want, anyway."

  "I risk my hide saving you for money, then?" Don Tiburcio's tone wasaggrieved.

  "Oh no, for friendship," the sardonic Rodrigo corrected himself, "and Ithink as much of you in my turn, amigo mio. Not half an hour ago I waswrapped in anxiety, imagining you trying to collect blackmail, and I notnear to keep my patriots from your throat. Oh, the sorrow of it!"

  "God be praised that a dear friend came and eased your worries! But youare not an ingrate. Since the Confederate Gringo took all my money theother morning----"

  "Tiburcio, on oath, I haven't had money either, not since our last gameat cards. There was Murguia, I know, but I let him off for bringing methat French girl. She was good for a big ransom, only your sameGringo--curse the intruder! If ever the Imperialists catch him, andMurguia is there to testify against him----"

  Tiburcio moved nearer on the church step. "And then?"

  "That's our secret, Murguia's and mine."

  "But Rodrigo, he _is_ caught. They are trying him and Murguia boththis very minute. And do you know what for? For being your accomplices."

  The outlaw started exultantly. "Then, if you want him shot----"

  "Well?--Oh don't be afraid, maybe I can help."

  "Were you with Captai
n Maurel when we ambushed them near Tampico?"

  "I can't remember," said Tiburcio tentatively.

  "If you will hurry down to this court martial, perhaps you will rememberbetter. Go, and I'll leave you."

  "Not quite so fast, Rodrigo. You forget that your devoted rescuer ispenniless."

  "So am I, I tell you. We'll both have to go to work, Don Tiburcio."

  "What's the lay? Tell me." The humorist's tone was unmistakable.

  Rodrigo looked about him in the dark. "Listen," he whispered, "there's abullion convoy out of San Luis before long, but--you shall hear no moreunless it is agreed that I am to meet them first."

  "Of course, hombre! How else could I threaten to expose them forcontributing to the rebels?"

  "Bien, it's next week. You will meet them this side of Valles, some timeThursday or Friday.--Now I'm off. Adios."

  "Stay. You'll find your horse down by the river. The administrator iswaiting with it. And Rodrigo, don't you want your pistol? Be morecareful another time, and keep it loaded."

  Something in his tone nettled the brigand. "What do you mean? Give me mypistol."

  Tiburcio pointed it at him instead. "When you cool a little, yes.But it takes a good marksman to hit a Frenchman with an emptypistol--especially when one wakes up and finds himself tied."

  Rodrigo stiffened. This was menacing to his dignity.

  "Both lassoed," Tiburcio went on, "and no telling which was heifer andwhich vaquero, stampeding down on poor Max.--Ai de mi, I never thoughtit could be so funny!"

  "Give me my pistol!"

  "Slumbering like two babes in the wood, and your sweet innocent breathsperfuming the woody forest. I'd have covered you with leaves, like thelittle robins, only----"

  "Was it you tied us, you----"

  "Just like two babes, but," and Tiburcio pointed his thumb to his mouthand shook his head sorrowfully, "that's bad, very bad. Why didn't youleave me some? Of the cognac, especially?"

  "If you don't explain----"

  "Softly there, amigo. Yes, I tied you."

  "Another of your jokes----"

  "Inspired of the Evil One? Oh no, it was--precaution. Yes, that was it,come to think; just precaution. You see, I and Dupin had scattered yourguerrillas, and I was scouting ahead, to stir up any ambush waiting forus--which I did later, when we chased them, and burned Culebra. Butgoing along, I heard snoring, and found you two, like two----Now sitstill!"

  "Why didn't you wake me? Then we could have roped the Frenchman."

  "And have him identify me after we'd gotten the ransom? Oh, no, I'm aloyal Imperialist. Now listen a minute, will you?--Our Contras werefollowing me not a half mile behind. That meant I had to work quick. Yousee, I wanted to find you both there when I could come back alone. Andmeantime, I didn't want you to hurt each other. If either got killed,there'd be no ransom. So I took your knife and his sabre. Then I tiedyou both with my lariat. I was going to get your lariat too, and tetherthe pair of you to a tree, hoping you'd hold each other there till I gotback. _You_ would do it, for I meant to pin a note on your sleeve,explaining. But just that minute the Frenchman stirred, for the Cossackswere getting into his ears, so I had to run back and turn them intoanother path."

  "So long as it wasn't any of your infernal farces?"

  "Well, it _was_ worth a ransom, the way it turned out.--Sit still,will you? You _know_ I take you too seriously ever to think of anyjoke with _you_! Here's your artillery and cutlery. Quick now,clear out!"

  Both rose to go, each to his respective deviltry, but not six stepsahead in the black night Tiburcio stumbled over a soft, inert mass. Herecovered himself, half cursing, half laughing.

  "One of your guards, Rodrigo," he muttered. "He must have got this farbefore the drug worked into his vitals."

  "Your mescal probably killed him," said Rodrigo indifferently. "But alittle knife slit will look more plausible in the morning, for you itwill."

  Getting to his knees on the stone walk the outlaw groped over the bodyfor a place to strike, holding his knife ready. But all at once hestopped and got up hastily, without a word. He only rubbed his left handmechanically on his jacket.

  "Well, what ails you?" asked Tiburcio.

  Rodrigo gave a short, apologetic laugh. "It--it's a woman!" He quitrubbing his hand, seeming to realize. "There's blood," he added.

  "Here," said Tiburcio, "you keep back, and run if anybody comes. I'mgoing to strike a match."

  By the flare they saw that it was a girl and that her head was crushed.Kneeling on either side, they peered questioningly, horrified, at eachother. Their great sombreros almost touched. Their hard faces wereyellow in the flickering light between, and the face looking up with itsquiet eyes and dark purplish cleft in the brow was white, white likemilk. With one accord the two men turned and gazed upward at the tower,whose black outline lost itself far above in the blacker shadows of theuniverse. They understood.

  Tiburcio shrugged his shoulders, a silent comment on the tragedy fromits beginning to this, its end. He threw the match away and arose, butRodrigo still knelt, leaning over her, holding the poor battered head inhis hands, half lifting it, and trying to look again into those eyesthrough the darkness. He would touch the matted hair, as if to caress,not knowing what he did, and each time he would jerk back his hand atthe uncanny, sticky feeling. Roving thus, his fingers touched an ivorycross, and closed over it. With no present consciousness of his act, heplaced the symbol in his jacket, over his breast.

  Tiburcio touched him on the shoulder. "I'll go now, and bring herfather," he said.

  "Yes," returned the other vaguely, stumbling to his feet.

  "It's going to kill the old man," murmured Tiburcio, "or--God, if itshould _not_ kill him! He is a coward, but once he slapped you,Rodrigo, for so much as looking at her. And now, the Virgin help--maythe Virgin help whoever's concerned in this!--But here, you must go, doyou hear?"

  "Yes."

  "Then go, go!"

  "Yes," said Rodrigo again, moving slowly away.

  "By the river, remember. You'll find your horse there."

  "Captain Maurel's, the fine black one?"

  "Yes, I slipped it out of the stables for you."

  "The fine black one?"

  "Yes, yes, hombre!"

  "And--and she never--she never saw--how magnifico I look on--on thatfine black horse."

  He was still muttering as he reeled and staggered down the hill.

  When he was gone, and no alarm of sentinels rang out, Tiburcio took offhis serape and laid it over the dark blot on the stones. Then he toostole away, to tell her father.