by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
On the second day after the fiesta there was a small dining party at thePresidio. Merely a few bachelor friends of the Comandante--the _beauxesprits_ of the place--including the fashionable Echevarria. The curawas among the number, and also the mission padres, both of whom enjoyedthe convivialities of the table equal to any "friar of orders grey."
The company had gone through the numerous courses of a Mexican meal--the"pucheros", "guisados," and endless mixtures of "chile,"--and the dinnerwas at that stage when the cloth has been carried off, and the wineflows freely, "Canario" and "Xeres", "Pedro do Ximenes", "Madeira," and"Bordeos," in bottles of different shapes, stood upon the table; and forthose who liked a stronger beverage there was a flask of golden"Catalan," with another of Maraschino. A well-stored cellar was that ofthe Comandante. In addition to his being military governor, he was, asalready hinted, collector of the _derechos de consume_, or custom-housedues. Hence he was the recipient of many a little present, as now andthen a basket of champagne or a dozen of Bordeaux.
His company had got fairly into the wine. The cura had thrown aside hissanctity and become _human_ like the rest; the padres had forgottentheir sackcloth and bead-roll, and the senior of them, Padre Joaquin,entertained the table with spicy adventures which had occurred to him_before_ he became a monk. Echevarria related anecdotes of Paris, withmany adventures he had encountered among the grisettes.
The Spanish officers being the hosts were, of course, least talkative,though the Comandante--vain as any young sub who wore his epaulettes forthe first time--could not refrain from alluding occasionally to histerrible list of _bonnes fortunes_ among the fair Sevillanas. He hadlong been stationed at the city of oranges, and "la gracia Andalusiana"was ever his theme of admiration.
Roblado believed in the belles of the Havannah, and descanted upon theplump, material beauty which is characteristic of the Quadroons; whilethe lieutenant expressed his _penchant_ for the small-footed_Guadalaxarenas_--not of old Spain, but of the rich Mexican provinceGuadalaxara. _He_ had been quartered there.
So ran the talk--rough and ribald--upon that delicate theme--woman. Thepresence of the trio of churchmen was no restraint. On the contrary,both padres and cura boasted of their _liaisons_ with as much bawd andbrass as the others, for padres and cura were both as depraved as any oftheir dining companions. Any little reserve either might have shownupon ordinary occasions had disappeared after a few cups of wine; andnone of them feared the company, which, on its part, stood as little inawe of them. The affectation of sanctity and self-denial was meant onlyfor the simple poblanos and the simpler peons of the settlement. At thedinner-table it was occasionally assumed by one or the other, but onlyby way of joke,--to give point and piquancy to the relation of someadventure. In the midst of the conversation, which had grown somewhatgeneral and confused, a name was pronounced which produced a momentarysilence. That name was "Carlos the cibolero."
At the mention of this name several countenances changed expression.Roblado was seen to frown; on Vizcarra's face were portrayed mixedemotions; and both padres and cura seemed to know the name unfavourably.
It was the beau Echevarria who had mentioned it.
"'Pon the honour of a cavallero! the most impudent thing I everwitnessed in all my life, even in republican Paris! A fellow,--a demnedtrader in hides and tasajo--in short, a butcher of demned buffaloes toaspire--_Parbleu_!"
Echevarria, though talking Spanish, always swore in French. It was morepolite.
"Most insolent--intolerable!" cried several voices.
"I don't think the lady seemed over angry withal," remarked a bluntyoung fellow, who sat near the lower end of the table.
A chorus of voices expressed dissent from this opinion. Roblado's wasthe loudest.
"Don Ramon Diaz," said he, addressing himself to the young fellow, "youcertainly could not have observed very carefully on that occasion. Iwho was beside the lady know that she was filled with disgust--" (thiswas a lie, and Roblado knew it), "and her father--"
"Oh, her _father_, yes!" cried Don Ramon, laughing. "Any one could seethat _he_ was angry--that was natural enough. Ha! ha!"
"But who is the fellow?" inquired one.
"A splendid rider," replied Don Ramon. "The Comandante will admitthat." And the free speaker looked at Vizcarra with a smile ofintelligence. The latter frowned at the observation.
"You lost a good sum, did you not?" inquired the cura of Vizcarra.
"Not to him," replied the Comandante, "but to that vulgar fellow whoseems his friend. The worst of it is, when one bets with these lowpeople there is no chance of getting a _revanche_ at some other time.One cannot meet them in the ordinary way."
"But who is the fellow?" again inquired one.
"Who? Why, a cibolero--that's all."
"True, but is there nothing about his history? He's a _gilero_, andthat is odd for a native! Is he a Criollo? He might be a Biscayan."
"Neither one nor the other. 'Tis said he's an Americano."
"Americano!"
"Not exactly that--his father was; but the padre here can tell all abouthim."
The priest thus appealed to entertained the company with some facts inthe history of the cibolero. His father had been an Americano, as itwas supposed--some stray personage who had mysteriously found his way tothe valley and settled in it long ago. Such instances were rare in thesettlements of New Mexico; but what was rarer still, in this case the"Americano" was accompanied by an "Americana"--the mother of Carlos--andthe same old woman who attracted so much attention on the day of SanJuan. All the efforts of the padres to christianise either one or theother had been in vain. The old trapper--for such he was--died as hehad lived--a blaspheming "heretico;" and there was a general belief inthe settlement that his widow held converse with the devil. All thiswas a scandal to the Church, and the padres would long since haveexpelled the guero family, but that, for some reason or other, they wereprotected by the old Comandante--Vizcarra's predecessor--who hadrestrained the zealous priests in their good intention.
"But, caballeros!" said the padre, glancing towards Vizcarra, "suchheretics are dangerous citizens. In them lie the seeds of revolutionand social disturbance; and when this guero is at home, he is seen onlyin the company of those we cannot watch too closely: he has been seenwith some of the suspected Tagnos, several of whom are in his service."
"Ha! with them, indeed!" exclaimed several. "A dangerous fellow!--heshould be looked after."
The sister of the cibolero now became the subject of conversation; andas remarks were made more or less complimentary to her beauty, theexpression upon the face of Vizcarra kept constantly changing. Thatvillain was more interested in the conversation than his guests wereaware, and he had already formed his plans. Already his agents were outon the accomplishment of his atrocious designs.
The transition from the cibolero's sister to the other belles of theplace, and to the subject of woman in general, was natural; and thecompany were soon engaged in their original conversation, which, underthe influence of additional wine, grew more "racy" than ever.
The scene ended by several of the party becoming "boracho;" and thenight being now far advanced, the guests took their leave, some of themrequiring to be conducted to their homes. A soldier apiece accompaniedthe cura and padres, all three of whom were as "drunk as lords;" and itwas no new thing for them.
