by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
SAD BUT SWEET.
I waited for no further explanation on the part of the Franciscan.
I fancied I now understood the _situation_, as well as he--perhapsbetter.
With the thought of Dolores in the keeping of common brigands, I shouldhave been, if not content, certainly less tortured. It was a differentthing to think of her in the keeping of _Torreano Carrasco_!
Vividly flashed before me the taunting in the Cathedral--the scenes inthe "Street of the Sparrows."
"Make ready, men! Look to your rifles and revolvers! Sergeant! form insingle file, for a march up the mountain-path!"
As he of the triple chevron hastened to execute the order, I turnedtowards Francisco Moreno.
With an indescribable emotion, I bent down over the wounded man.
At a glance I could see that he had been badly abused.
In addition to several stabs from sword or poignard, the bullet of an_escopette_ had traversed his left thigh--the purple spot appearingright over the femoral artery!
I had myself received just such a shot at the storming of Chapultepec--creasing, but, fortunately, without cutting the vein; and I knew, thatif this had been opened in the thigh of Francisco Moreno it was hislife-blood I saw upon the floor.
Its quantity, and the deathlike paleness of his face, were points for asad prognosis.
In a double sense the spectacle gave me pain. In the finely-chiselledfeatures--more perfect in their pallor--I saw that which had deprived meof Dolores Villa-Senor. No wonder she loved him!
But he was going from this world, and my jealousy should go with him.
It went at once, hastened by thoughts of Carrasco; and my firstfriendship for Francisco Moreno was restored in all its strength.
I looked around the room. There was no furniture, except such asappeared to have been transported thither for the occasion. I steppedinto a small chamber adjoining. In this I discovered a _catre_, orcamp-bedstead of leather, stretched upon trestles. Some shawls, scarfs,and other articles of female apparel thrown over it, told of itsintended occupancy. It was to have been the _bridal bed_!
I had the bridegroom placed upon it; to receive the embrace, not ofDolores, but Death!
After a cursory examination of his wounds, I conceived a more hopefulopinion of them. The haemorrhage had been profuse. Still the mainartery did not appear to be touched.
He was feeble as a child; and stood in need of some restorative.
I could think only of that which, under circumstances strangelyanalogous, had given support to myself--a draught of _Catalan_. Myflask was full of _refino_--the best that could be obtained in theCapital.
I placed it between his lips; and poured down a portion of its contents.
The effect was such as I anticipated--drawing from my own remembrance.The spirit passed immediately through his frame--filling his veins aswith fresh blood.
He soon became conscious: he recognised me.
"Ah, senor!" said he, looking gratefully in my face, "It is you--you whoare doing me this kindness! Oh! tell me, where is she--Dolores--my ownDolores--my bride--my wife? Ah--no--she was not yet that? But where--where--"
"Do not disquiet yourself about her," I said, with a bitterness thateven his sufferings could not hinder me from showing. "No doubt she cantake care of herself."
"But where is she? O senor! tell me where!"
"Compose yourself, Don Francisco. The lady cannot yet be far off. Ifancy I shall be able to overtake the scoundrels who have carried heraway."
"They have carried her away? O God! carried away, by him--by him!"
"By whom?"
It was an idle interrogatory. I knew without asking. There was a voicestill ringing in my ears--a voice I had distinguished through the din ofthe strife, and which even then I fancied having heard before. I nowknew it was no fancy. The friar had convinced me of that.
"That wretch, Carrasco!" replied the wounded man; "I am sure it was he.I recognised him despite the crape mask. Lola, Lola! you are lost! Andstill more _Mercedes! pobre Mercedes_!"
I did not press for an explanation of this speech, that sounded soambiguously strange. I only said in reply:
"Senor Moreno, do not excite yourself. Leave the matter in my hands.My duty compels me to use every effort in recovering these ladies, andpunishing the vile caitiffs who have carried them off. Have no fearabout my doing what I can. If fate wills it, _your_ Dolores shall berestored to you."
"Thanks, thanks, senor! I feel assured you will do what can be done.If not for _Dolores, you should for the sake of her sister_."
"Her sister! What mean you by that speech, captain Moreno?"
"Ah, caballero! if you but knew how she loves you!"
"Loves _me_!"
"Ay. It was in the hope of seeing you, that she consented to assist ina stratagem, of which I need not tell you now. It was to end by ourgoing on to the Capital; where, since the storming of Chapultepec, sheknew you have been residing. She heard of your gallant behaviour inthat sanguinary action, and of the dangerous wounds you received. Youcannot guess how she grieved for you--despite her chagrin. _PobreMercedes_!"
"Mercedes--grieved--chagrin! You mystify me."
"Ah, senor--your conduct mystified her. Ay more: it half broke herheart."
"Francisco Moreno! for heaven's sake explain yourself! What does allthis mean--about _Mercedes_? Pray tell me!"
"I can tell you little, but what should be known to yourself. _Pobrenina_! She had made me her _confidant_,--having long been mine in mycorrespondence with Lola. O, senor! you have been kind to me. You aredoubly so now. But why have you behaved so to Mercedes? Though I maynever rise from this couch, I cannot help telling you it wasdishonourable,--ay _cruel_!"
"On what occasion, may I ask, has this cruelty occurred?"
"You are mocking me, _amigo_? You must remember it. She gave you anappointment in the Alameda; and though you came, and she saw you, youwent away without waiting to speak to her. After that slight she neversaw you again! To win a woman's heart, and thus trifle with it! Was itnot cruel? I ask, was it not cruel?"
An overpowering surprise hindered me from making reply. There wassomething more to account for my remaining silent. Through the darknesslong shrouding my soul, I discerned the dawning of day.
"You cannot have forgotten the occasion?" continued the wounded man,still speaking reproachfully, "I myself have reason to remember it:since it brought me a message from Lola--the sweetest ever received frommy _querida_. It was a written promise to be mine; a vow registered _enpapel_: that sooner than enter the convent she would consent--_huyar--huyar_. You know what that means?"
Though I well understood the significance of the phrase, I was not in astate of mind to answer the interrogatory. I had one of my own to put--to me of far more importance.
"You received your letter through the window of a carriage? Was it notthe writer herself who delivered it?"
"_Por Dios_, no! The _billetita_ you speak of was from _Dolores_. Shewho gave it me was _Mercedes_!"
I felt like folding Francisco Moreno in my friendliest embrace. I couldhave stayed by his bedside to nurse him, or, what was then more likely,to close his eyelids in death!
I could have canonised him for the words he had spoken. To me they hadimparted new life--along with a determination, that soon absorbed everyimpulse of my soul.
I need not tell what it was. In less time than it would take to declareit, I was scaling the steeps of Ixticihuatl in search of my lost love--once more, _Mercedes_!
