Les fils de la tortue. English

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XV.

  A FIRST LOSS.

  After Diego's departure, Leon remained for a long time leaning onthe baggage which he had before him; the last words of his departingfriend rang in his ear like the sound of a knell; a deep sorrow, adeadly discouragement had seized upon him, and a state of undefinablemorbidness preyed on his whole being.

  A friendship like that which united him to the Vaquero is not brokenso suddenly without the heart suffering from it, and in spite of theexceptional circumstances which had caused the separation of the twomen, Leon could not refrain from a species of remorse.

  Turning over in his mind the different phases of his past existence andthose of the four last years of his life, spent in the midst of llanosand Pampas, he asked himself whether he had not consciously exchangedthe quietude of an unclouded present for the painful agitation of afuture big with tempests.

  With his eye fixed on the dark and bold outline of Diego, which wasvaguely designed on the horizon, and was gradually disappearing inspace, twenty times he was on the point of dashing forward and begginghim to return, while swearing to give up the ardent passion whichmastered him; but an invincible force nailed him to the ground, hischoking voice died away on his lips, and his courage failed him. Erelong an impenetrable mist spread between the eyes of the young man andhis friend, who entirely disappeared.

  Then Leon began cursing the fatal love which had come to torture hisheart, and the hours of the night passed away unnoticed by him, sogreatly were his thoughts concentrated in his soul.

  The sky was gloomy; heavy black clouds strangely edged, and driven fromthe south-west by a cold wind, coursed through the air with extremevelocity. When, at rare intervals, the moon appeared during the shortperiod which separated a cloud on the horizon from the advent ofanother which dashed after it, its pale and sickly rays hardly lit upthe objects on which they cast their vague light.

  The scenery, plunged in darkness at each new obscuration of the moon,was mournful and silent, and nothing could be heard but the regularfootfall of the sentry echoing on the hardened soil. All were asleep inthe camp, save the sentry and Leon, and the latter, not afraid of beingseen, gave a free course to his grief, and heavy tears fell from hiseyes.

  What secret and acrid sorrows are contained in each of these dropsof burning water which trickle down a man's face. Tears! the supremeexpression of impotence and despair. Tears! the height of weakness anddespondency which brutally restore man to his place, by showing him thevanity of his pride, and the nullity of his pretended strength.

  The captain of the smugglers was still weeping when a hand was laidon, or rather slightly touched, his shoulder. He quickly raised hishead, and with difficulty restrained a cry of surprise. Dona Mariawas standing before him, with her finger laid on her lip, in order torecommend silence.

  Half hidden by the white lace which surrounded her face, and fell inlong streamers on her shoulders, the maiden presented herself to Leon'sastonished gaze, like a celestial apparition which had come from onhigh to restore him hope and courage.

  "You!" he murmured, with a tenderness of expression impossible torender.

  "Speak lower," the maiden replied, and she pointed to the sentry, whohad stopped, and seemed to be spying her movements. Leon looked fora moment at the man to whom the guard of the camp was temporarilyconfided.

  "Reassure yourself," he said to her; "he is the bravest and mostdevoted man in my band. Stop here for a moment."

  Then walking a few paces, Leon made a signal to the sentry to come tohim.

  "Wilhelm," he said to him, "stop as sentry till I give you ordersmyself to call one of your comrades, and look out."

  "Yes, captain," the man replied, with a marked German accent; "Iunderstand."

  "Very good," Leon replied; "begone."

  The sentry retired, and Leon returned to the maiden, whose bosom washurriedly heaving. The captain knew Wilhelm, and that at the slightestmovement which took place in the Soto-Mayor's tent, he should bewarned. Hence he was enabled to talk freely with her whom he loved,without fear of being surprised.

  "You here so close to me!" Leon went on, seizing one of the maiden'shands. "Oh, Dona Maria, how kind you are!"

  "You are suffering," she said, as she bent on the young man a glancein which the signs of a sympathising interest were visible; "you aresuffering, and seem to avoid and shun me, and that is why I haveresolved on asking you the cause of your sorrow."

  "Oh, no! I am no longer suffering since I see you; since I hear fallfrom your lips sweet words which dilate my heart with hope and joy."

  "Oh, be silent!" Maria replied; "for I only wish to know the causeof the sorrow which I have remarked, since this morning, on yourcountenance."

  "What! has your attention been so directed to me as to make you feelanxious on seeing me sad and despondent?"

  "Do you not know that I love you?" Maria said, with an accent of suchsublime simplicity, that Leon fancied himself the sport of a dream.

  There was a moment of supreme silence, which the maiden was the firstto break.

  "I know," she said, "how strange and unusual is the step which I amnow taking, and how dangerous it would be with a man whose heart wasnot so noble or so great as yours; but, alas! we are at this moment ina situation so different from all the ordinary laws of life, that Ithought I must frankly come and find you."

  "You were right, senorita," muttered Leon, with his eyes ardently fixedupon her.

  "Let me," she continued, "express to you all the gratitude I feel toyou for your conduct, so full of self-denial and so loyal."

  "Oh!" he said.

  "I know all; I was an invisible hearer of your conversation; andnothing said by you or your friend escaped my ear. I thank you from thebottom of my heart for your devotion to our family. Alas!" she said, asif speaking to herself, "perhaps it would have been better for you andfor us had you abandoned us."

  "I will carry out, whatever may happen, the oath which I took to you,senorita, to lead you in safety to your destination."

  "But," she said, with a movement of fear, "that man, your friend, thatgloomy and stern individual, I tremble lest he may try to make us fallinto some horrible trap. I have a dark foreboding that a danger menacesus."

  "Whatever may be the danger, senorita," the young man exclaimedpassionately, "be convinced that my friend will have no share in it;his word is sacred, and I place the most perfect confidence in him."

  "Heaven grant that you are not mistaken!" she said, with a stifled sigh.

  "Moreover," he continued, "whatever may happen, I shall be there,and no one will reach you without passing over my body. I have swornto escort you and your family safe and sound to the end of this longjourney, and that oath I will keep, whatever may happen."

  "Thanks," she murmured, with emotion, as she offered him her white anddelicate hand; "thanks, Leon--I love you!" and she disappeared light asa shadow, leaving the young man plunged into indescribable ecstasy.

  The rest of the night passed without further incident, and at daybreakLeon, who had not slept for an instant, gave the signal for starting.In spite of himself, the young man felt a vague terror for which hecould not account. The maiden's parting words echoed in his ear and thepresentiment which she stated that she felt, caused him a preoccupationwhich he sought in vain to dissipate, by proving to himself that nopossible danger could threaten the persons whom he was escorting.

  Still, before reaching the districts where any fear would becomechimerical owing to the distance from the country frequented by theIndians, the caravan would be obliged to pass through a passage calledthe Parumo de San Juan Bautista, a very difficult pass to cross, andwhich, as it served as the extreme limit of the Indian border, was themore favourable for the preparation of an ambush.

  The captain wished to arrive before nightfall at this pass, in order toreconnoitre the approaches carefully, and guard against any surprise.But to do this speed was required. Gene Soto-Mayor asked the young manwhy he raised the camp at so early an h
our, but the latter withouttelling him all his thoughts, managed to give him reasons which,without being good, closed his mouth, and the caravan started. Thethree ladies, carefully wrapped up in their ponchos and rebozos inorder to protect themselves from the cold, rode side by side, precededby General Soto-Mayor and Don Pedro Sallazar.

  Leon was a few paces ahead plunged into serious reflections.

  "Eh, Caballero!" Don Pedro shouted to him, "I should like, with yourpermission, to ask you a question."

  The captain stopped.

  "A question, senor," he said; "what is it, if you please?"

  "Well, I fancy it very simple; still if, unconsciously, I am guilty ofany indiscretion, I beg you beforehand to excuse me, and I authorizeyour not answering me."

  The young man bowed.

  "Let me hear the question," he said.

  "Since we have started," Don Pedro continued, "I have sought yourfriend in vain, but could not find him; can he have left us, or has hegone ahead to reconnoitre?"

  "My friend, senor," the young man answered, somewhat drily, "has leftus not to return. He went away last night while you were asleep, but Ihave remained, and shall not abandon you. Does this explanation suityou, senor? Or have you any other questions to ask me?"

  "Hum!" Don Pedro replied, internally offended by the way in which theyoung man had answered him, and checking his horse, so as to let theothers pass.

  The caravan continued its journey, and not one of those who composedit--numbed by the cold which gradually grew more intense, and whichthey had great difficulty in guarding themselves against--attempted tostripe up even the most frivolous conversation.

  The nearer the travellers came to the Parumo de San Juan Bautista,the more nervous did the captain grow, though he could not guess thereason; at length this anxiety became so great, that, after temporarilyentrusting the command of the troop to Wilhelm, he made a signal tofour of his adventurers to follow him; and, putting himself at theirhead, he dashed his horse at the flanks of the mountain which thetravellers were ascending at the moment. As he passed Dona Maria, thelatter slightly pulled aside the rebozo that covered her face, and bentdown to him.

  "Are you leaving us in that way, Leon?" she murmured, in a voice faintas a sigh.

  The young man started at the sound of the beloved voice.

  "No!" he answered; "on the contrary, I am going to watch over yoursafety." And dashing off, he at once disappeared among the trees.

  "Heaven grant," the maiden said as she crossed herself, "that my fearsare chimerical, and that the danger which I apprehend may only exist inmy imagination."

  And wrapping herself once more in her rebozo, the maiden rode pensivelyon by the side of her mother and sister, who seemed not to have paidany attention to the few words she had exchanged with the captain.