CHAPTER VII.
A CONVERSATION.
Among the persons present at the meeting, was one to whom we havenot alluded, although he is destined to play an important part inthis story, and who perhaps listened with more interest than anyoneelse to what was said. This person, to whom we have now to turn ourattention, was Sotavento, the Indian majordomo, so liked by Don Anibalde Saldibar, and whose gloomy outline was described in our earlierchapters.
Sotavento had not altered; nearly a dozen years had passed over hishead without leaving the slightest trace; his hair was still asblack, his face as cold, and his person as upright. Indians have thispeculiarity, that, whatever their age may be, they always seem young,and do not really begin to display any signs of decrepitude until theyreach the last limits of old age.
We several times came across redskins who mentioned to us facts thatoccurred sixty years back, and yet they did not themselves look morethan five and thirty. Moreover, it is impossible to fix with anycertainty an Indian's age, even when his features bear the stamp ofsenility, for the simple reason that the savages do not try by anyceremony to fix in their minds the precise date of their children'sbirth, and limit themselves to recording, by the name they givethem, at what spot, in what season, and under what physical or moralinfluence they are born; hence the names of plants, animals, rivers,mountains, etc., which nearly all the redskins bear.
Sotavento, during the twelve years that had elapsed, had not left hismaster. He had continued to serve him with such fidelity and devotionthat the latter, in spite of his indomitable Castilian pride, hadalmost come to regard his majordomo more as a friend than a servant,and to treat him accordingly. The conduct of this man, although stillstamped with a certain mystery, had constantly been loyal, apparentlyat least, and under two critical circumstances he had bravely exposedhis life to save his master's.
Still, in spite of the proofs of devotion which could not be disputed,this man inspired all those with whom chance brought him into contact(always excepting Don Anibal) with a repugnance and antipathy whichnothing could overcome; and, singular to say, the better he was knownand the longer, the less people liked him, and the more they tried toavoid having anything to do with him. Still, his manners were gentle,polite, even affable; he liked to do services, and eagerly seizedevery opportunity to be agreeable, even to persons who must be quiteindifferent to him.
Whence came this general repulsion for this man? No one could havesaid: it was instinctive; when people were near him they felt anemotion like that caused by the sight of a reptile. Don Anibal aloneshrugged his shoulders with a smile of contempt when any doubts orfears were expressed in his presence about the character of the manwhom he had made his confidant. Was he wrong or right? The conclusionwill probably show.
The majordomo stepped unnoticed out of the hall after his master, andleaving the latter to go in search of Count de Melgosa, who had alreadyreached the patio, and was about giving his servants the necessaryorders for departure, he quietly entered the inner apartments, wentthrough several rooms, and reached an octagonal parlour of small size,whose windows looked out on the huerta, which at that moment was filledwith horses and armed men who had formed a temporary bivouac there. Onreaching it the Indian looked searchingly around him, then, going tothe door, bent his body forward, and seemed to be listening.
"They are coming," he said to himself, almost immediately after.
With one bound he reached the other end of the room, opened, with akey that hung from his neck by a thin steel chain, a door carefullyconcealed in the wall, took a final glance of singular meaning at thedoor of the room, and then disappeared, closing the panel, which movednoiselessly in a groove, at the very moment when Don Anibal entered theroom, accompanied by the count.
"Here," the hacendero said, pointing to a butaca, "we can converse atour ease, without fear of being disturbed by intruders."
"I assure you that I have nothing to say to you; still, if you desireto exchange a few words with me while my servants are saddling thehorses, it will afford me great pleasure."
While saying this, the count seated himself.
"Oh, oh!" the hacendero remarked, with a smile, "Is that your tone? Icannot believe that you really intend to go away so speedily; it cannotbe so, for the honour of my house. My dear count, old friends as weare must separate with mutual satisfaction, and when all the duties ofhospitality have been strictly fulfilled."
"My dear Don Anibal, at the present day," the count said with reserve,"the duties of hospitality have become, I fear, very weak ties, and arenot strong enough to retain anybody."
"Do not believe that," Don Anibal exclaimed warmly; "friendship has itsundeniable rights, and if fate has cast us into two opposite parties,we ought only to esteem each other the more for having followed ourconvictions."
"Unfortunately, Don Anibal, but few friendships resist politicalhatreds. However great the affection may be we feel for a man, howeverpowerful the sympathy we may have with him, when a community ofthought no longer exists, when everything separates you, indifferenceinevitably succeeds friendship, and, as you know, from indifference tohatred is only a step."
"Which, I trust, you have not yet taken, my dear count, for ourfriendship is one of those which nothing can weaken, as it rests on toosolid a basis--an oath of vengeance which we took together--and whichwe have as yet been unable to accomplish, in spite of all our efforts."
The count's brow was contracted by a painful thought.
"Yes," he murmured, "you are right, Don Anibal; there is a vengeance wehave sworn to take. Oh, whatever may happen, I will keep my oath."
"Perhaps," the hacendero continued, "the hour is nearer at hand thanyou suppose."
"Is that the truth, Don Anibal?" he exclaimed, suddenly starting up."Shall we at length reach the object for which we have so long beenstriving?"
"I hope so, Senor Conde; as I am more at liberty than you, and bettersituated to obtain information, I believe that I am at last on thetrack."
"Speak, speak! What do you know, my friend?"
"Speaking today would perhaps be imprudent. I do not wish to leaveanything to chance; give me a few more days, and then--"
"But," the count interrupted him passionately, "the insult I have toavenge is more serious than yours; my murdered brother, my boy carriedoff, perhaps killed, whose blood is incessantly crying out after theircowardly and barbarous murderers."
"And I have my wife, my well-beloved wife, who was rendered mad byterror, and my daughter, who escaped by a miracle from the frightfulsting of a snake. Oh, believe me, count, I suffer as much as you, forall my happiness has been for ever destroyed."
There was a moment of painful silence. The two gentlemen, lying back intheir butacas, with their heads buried in their hands, remained plungedin gloomy and sorrowful thoughts. At length the hacendero spoke.
"Still," he said, "on reflection, I think that it will be better bothfor you and me to come to a thorough understanding about the steps wemean to take, and arrange so that failure cannot be possible. But theconversation will be a long one; I have much information to impart toyou, and so, my dear count, whether you like it or not, you must deferyour departure till tomorrow, and consent to pass the night beneath myroof."
"I am in a very exceptional position here, Don Anibal. The personsassembled in the hacienda at this moment have a right to regard me asan enemy, perhaps a spy. I should not like--"
"That concerns me, my dear count. Thank heaven, the well-known honourof your character places you above all suspicion; and who knows,perhaps your stay here, however short it may be, will not prove uselessto the cause you serve."
"What do you mean? Pray explain yourself, my friend, for I do notunderstand you."
"You will soon do so; but for the present I shall feel obliged by yournot pressing the point."
"Very good; I will await a more propitious moment to obtain from youthe double explanation you promise me."
At this moment the door opened, and Don Melchior a
ppeared. He bowed.
"Well, Don Melchior, what good wind has brought you here?" Don Anibalasked with a smile.
"The Senor Conde's horses are ready, father," he replied; "his peopleare only awaiting his pleasure."
"Be good enough, my dear boy," the hacendero remarked, "to tell thecriados to take his Excellency's horses back to the stable, and tounload the mules. The count does not start tonight, but deigns to spendit under our humble roof."
"Still--" the count objected.
"You have promised me," Don Anibal said quickly.
"Well, be it so," said the count, with his eyes fixed on the young man,who was standing respectfully in the doorway.
At a sign from the hacendero, Melchior bowed, and left the room. Thecount remained pensive for some moments, and then turned to his host.
"Have you not your old majordomo?" he asked him.
"Certainly. Why do you ask the question?"
"I fancied that young man had taken his place."
"Oh, no! That young man is not even one of my servants."
"Ah!"
"He is an orphan I have brought up."
"It is strange that I should have never seen him before."
"I presume you never noticed him before now."
"That is possible," the count said, suppressing a sigh, "still, itseems to me, I know not why, that had I seen him before, his face wouldnot have passed out of my memory; there is something about it whichstruck me. Have you had him long?"
"He was six years old, I believe, when Sotavento brought him to me.Since that time he has constantly been with me; he is, I think, ofIndian origin, although his features are more marked than those of theredskins, and his complexion whiter; but that means nothing on theborder, where crossings of breed are so frequent."
"That is true," the count murmured, as he passed his hand over hisforehead, as if to drive away a painful thought; "forgive me, myfriend, I do not know where my head was; the questions I asked you musthave appeared to you most indiscreet."
"Not at all; I am greatly attached to this young man, who deservesin every respect all that I have done for him. Hence I can only feelflattered when others beside myself take an interest in him, for itproves that I was not deceived with respect to him. Now, that it isarranged you will not start till tomorrow--"
"At sunrise," the count interrupted.
"Very good," the hacendero continued; "permit me to discharge a missionI have undertaken toward you."
"A mission!" the count said with surprise.
"The word is perhaps very ambitious, but the matter is this--FatherPelagio wishes you to give him an interview for a few minutes in thisroom."
"Did I not see him just now, and did we not have a conversation?"
"That is true; but at the moment he was among too many persons to beable to have an explanation with your Excellency, as he would haveprobably desired."
"I do not know whether my instructions permit me to grant aconfidential interview to the person to whom you allude; still, not todisoblige you, my dear Don Anibal, and prove to you how anxious I amto maintain the public tranquillity, I consent to the interview FatherPelagio asks, on the condition, however, that you are present."
"Your Excellency anticipates my wish," the priest said as he enteredthe room.
"You were listening to us, senor," the count remarked haughtily.
"Not at all, caballero; but, as I opened the door, I involuntaryoverheard your last sentence, and I did not think that I committed anyindiscretion in proving to you that I heard it."
"Very good, I am ready to listen to you; but pray be brief."
"I have only a few words to say to you," Father Pelagio replied with abow.
"What is their nature?"
"I am about to have the honour of explaining. We regret, as much asyou do, caballero, the continued wretchedness which has weighed on ourunhappy country for so many years; far from wishing to recommence thewar, we desire, on the contrary, to obtain a durable peace, if it bepossible; but, in order to gain this result, which is the object wedesire, we must have the means of transmitting to his Excellency theViceroy our respectful entreaties."
"Respectful?" the count interrupted ironically.
The priest bowed, and continued without seeming to notice the accent inwhich this word was uttered--
"We have, therefore, resolved on sending to the Viceroy one of ourfriends intrusted with a humble petition, if you will consent,Senor Conde, to pledge your honour that this petition shall reachhis Excellency, and that whatever the Viceroy's answer may be, ourambassador will have nothing to fear, and be at liberty to go whitherhe pleases, without being troubled, so soon as his mission is ended."
The count reflected for a moment.
"Listen," he said; "I know not whether rebels have the right to sendambassadors to the chiefs of the government they are combating. Still,as I sincerely desire peace, and as whatever may be the result of thecontest, Spanish blood will flow on both sides, and as I wish, as faras depends on myself, to avoid a painful conflict, I pledge my honour,not to lead your envoy to his Excellency the Viceroy, as that isimpossible, but to present him to the general commanding the province,who, for my sake, will treat him respectfully, and who, if yourpetition really contains quiet and respectful demands, will himselfplace it before his Excellency the Viceroy; such is the only thing Ican undertake. If that suits you, very good; but it is impossible forme to do more."
"Senor Conde, I expected no less from you, although what you offer doesnot quite come up to our expectations. Still, we eagerly accept youroffer, as we desire to convince you of the frankness and loyalty of ourintentions. Tomorrow our envoy will follow you."
"That is settled, senor."
Father Pelagio bowed respectfully to the count, and withdrew. When DonAnibal found himself alone again with his friend, he begged him tofollow him to the room which had been prepared for him, and both wentout. The secret door gently opened, and Sotavento appeared, advancingcautiously, and looking anxiously around him. When he was certain thatno one could surprise him, his eye flashed with a sinister gleam, andmaking a menacing gesture, he said in a hollow voice--
"We shall see!"
The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War Page 12
