by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
A PLEASANT MISCONCEPTION.
There was one of these frequenters of the saloon in whom I felt apeculiar interest. Our acquaintance did not commence at the _monte_table. I first saw him in the Calle del Obispo, and, on the same night,in the Callecito de los Pajaros. His name was Francisco Moreno: the manwho had crossed me in love and saved my life!
I had ample opportunity of studying his character, without referring toeither incident of that night. I had the advantage of him: for,although I remembered _him_ well, and with strange emotions, he had norecollection of _me_!
I had reasons for keeping my incognito.
Though we had become otherwise acquainted--and were upon such terms ofcomity, as two strangers who meet over a gaming table--I could learnvery little about him--beyond the fact that he was, or had been, anofficer in the Mexican army. My own observation told me as much asthis. His bearing, with an occasional speech that escaped him,proclaimed the military man: for in this, as in other callings, there isa freemasonry: and the _rajpoot_ of one land will easily recognise his_caste_ in another.
He was one of the Mexican officers _on parole_; but we had reason tobelieve that there were many others among us--during our long intervalof inaction--who had no business to be there. We were not veryparticular about _spies_; and, in truth, they might have come and gone--and they did come and go--with as much freedom as if no guard had beenkept. Successes unexpected--almost astounding--a series of them--hadtaught us to despise even the secret machinations of our enemy. Hisscouts might have entered our camp, partaken of hospitality in ourtents--even in the marquee of the commander-in-chief--and departed againwith as much facility as a man might obtain an interview with his hatteror tailor!
No one thought of suspecting Francisco Moreno. No one gave heed to him,any more than to remark what a fine, noble-looking young fellow he was.
I alone made a particular study of him. I knew that he was more thannoble-looking--that he was noble.
It maddened me to think he was the first; though I could scarce hegrieved at his being the last. Had it not been so, I should not havelived to take note of it. I had strange fancies--sometimes not verycreditable ones--about captain Moreno.
It was plain that he was poor; though not one of those who had convertedthe military tunic into a civilian's coat. His dress, if threadbare,would pass muster as a correct costume. Nor did he put down _pesetas_upon the _tapis vert_. His stake was usually a _peso_--sometimes two--but never rising to the _onza_. The dollar lost, he would retire fromthe table. Winning, he would remain.
One night I observed a reversion of the rule. His stakes were beingdoubled at each draw of the cards; and yet he rose from his seat, andhastily took his departure from the place!
Many wondered at this. A man must be mad to leave such luck? It waslike flinging the favours of Fortune back into her face.
I had a clearer comprehension of what had caused his defection from thegaming circle. I divined, that he was going to worship the goddesselsewhere, and under another title.
I had heard the cathedral clock strike ten--the hour when I had firstseen him in the Calle del Obispo. It suggested the conjecture that hewas going thither.
Had my own luck at the game been ten times greater than it was--and Iwas winning--I could not have stayed to take advantage of it.
I clutched at my stake, as soon as it was covered by the coin of thecroupier; and, starting up from the table, followed Francisco Morenofrom the saloon.
Whether my abrupt departure created as much surprise, as that of theMexican, I never knew.
It may have done; but at that moment I was absolutely indifferent,either to the thing itself, or the conjectures that might ariserespecting it.
I had but one thought in my mind; and that was to witness a second ofthose interviews--the first of which had lacerated my heart to its core!
I felt as the bird may feel, fluttering into the jaws of the envenomedreptile; as the moth that goes voluntarily to have its wings scorched bythe candle!
There was a fascination in the thought of thus rushing upon ruin!Perhaps it was the knowledge, that my heart could not be reduced to agreater desolation than it already knew.
For the first time in four weeks I entered the Calle del Obispo.
Francisco was before me. I had correctly divined his intent. He hadforsaken the smiles of Fortune to bask in those of Mercedes!
We took different sides of the street; he going silently along the_facade_ of the Casa Villa-Senor; I skulking, thief-like, under theportal of the opposite house.
We were not kept waiting for as much as an instant. Scarce had we takenour respective stands, when the blind was drawn back, and a womanappeared in the window. Of course it was Mercedes.
"You are late, Francisco!" said she, in an undertone, and with theslightest accent of reproach. "The cathedral has tolled ten minutesago! It is very cruel. You know how I am watched, and that everymoment is so precious!"
Francisco stammered out some excuse, which appeared to satisfy her. Icould see she was not exacting--by the easy grace with which she forgavehim. Even this increased my anguish.
"Do you know, dearest, papa is more suspicious than ever! Even now I amafraid he will be coming this way. He has not yet retired to his bed;and never does till both sister and I have gone to ours."
"Why don't you give him a sleeping draught? Put poppy-seed in hischocolate. Do that, _nina_, and we might have a better chance of alittle conversation at this hour. I never see you now, or only for amoment. It's very tiresome to be kept apart in this fashion. I hope itis the same to you?"
"Do you doubt it? You do not? But what help for it? He is so muchagainst you. I think some one has been telling him something bad aboutyou. When we go to _matins_ he always sends _Tia_ Josefa along with us,and I'm sure she has instructions to watch us. I know it's only _me_.He's not half so careful about sister. He allows her to drive outalone--to the Alameda--anywhere. If I go, I must be accompanied by TiaJosefa."
"The deuce take Tia Josefa!"
"And do you know, Francisco, there's something worse yet? I've onlyheard it this very day. Josefa told it me. I believe papa put it inher head to tell me. If I don't consent to marry _him_--you know whom Imean--I'm to be shut up in a convent! Only think of it! Imprisoned forlife in a dark cloister, or marry a man I can't love--old enough to bemy uncle! _Ay Dios_! What am I to do about it?"
"Neither one nor the other of those two things--if I can hinder it.Don't be uneasy, love! I'll find some way to save you from such afate--which would be equally ruinous to myself. Your father can havenothing against me, except that I'm poor. Who knows but that I maybecome rich during this war. I have hopes of promotion, and--listendearest!"
Here the voice of Francisco sank into a whisper, as if the communicationhe was making required peculiar secrecy.
The words were not audible across the street; neither were thosemurmured in response. I only heard some phrases that fell from thelady's lips as she turned to go inside.
"_Adios querido! Hasta la manana_!"
Far sweeter to _my_ ear were some words spoken by Francisco himself.
"Stay! A moment, _dear Dolores_! one moment--"
I did not hear the conclusion of his passionate appeal, nor the reply--if there was one.
Dolores might have stayed in the _balcon_, and chatted with her dearFrancis for an hour by the cathedral clock, without giving me theslightest chagrin. I was too happy to listen to another word of theirconversation.
Mercedes--_my_ Mercedes--was not she who had dropped that little note,and said to him who received it, "Va con Dios!"
There was still a hope that her heart was free; that no "queridoFrancisco" had yet taken possession of it!
"God grant but that," was my mental prayer, as I turned to take mydeparture, "and Mercedes may yet be mine!"
