The Adventurers

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XIII.

  LOVE.

  On the morrow the two Frenchmen were awakened by the rays of the sun.The day promised to be a brilliant one, for there was not a cloud inthe heavens. A light vapour, full of penetrating odours, arose slowlyfrom the earth, drawn up by the beams of the sun, whose warm influenceincreased every minute. The morning breeze refreshed the air, andinvited them to inhale it. The young men, perfectly recovered from theirfatigue, sprang cheerfully from their humble beds and dressed themselvesin haste.

  The chacra, of which they had only a glimpse the night before bymoonlight, was an immense farm, consisting of extensive buildings,and surrounded by fields in full cultivation. The greatest animationprevailed everywhere. Peons, mounted on half wild horses, were drivingout the cattle to the artificial meadows, whilst others were runningabout after the horses they were getting together, in order to leadthem to the drinking place. In the patio the major-domo was overlookingthe women and girls engaged in milking. In short, this residence, whichhad appeared to them so silent and dismal the night before, assumedby daylight an appearance of life and cheerfulness delightful tocontemplate.

  The cries of the peons mingled with the lowing of the cattle, thebarking of the dogs, and the crowing of the cocks, and formed thatmelodious concert which is only to be heard on a farm, and which alwaysrejoices the heart.

  It is a justice that we willingly render here to the Chilian republicwhen we say that it alone of the southern states of America appearsto understand that the wealth of a country consists not in the numberof its mines, but in the encouragement given to cultivation; and thatthis country, while possessing rich mines of gold, silver, and preciousstones, only places their produce in the second rank, whilst it reservesits principal solicitude for agriculture. Chili is as yet young as anation. There manufactures and the arts are in their infancy; but thefarms are numerous, the fields well cultivated, and soon this countrywill be called upon, there is no doubt, through its system of labour,to become the entrepot of the other American powers, which it alreadyprovides in a great measure with corn and wine, from Cape Horn toCalifornia.

  Behind the chacra extended a well-kept up garden, in which oranges,pomegranates, and citrons, planted in the open ground, grew amidstlimes, apples, plums, and all the other fruits of Europe. Louis wasagreeably surprised at the aspect of this garden, with its numerousalleys, in which a thousand birds of brilliant colours warbled gailyunder the foliage of the tufted thickets of jasmine and honeysuckle.Whilst Valentine went, followed by Caesar, to look at the operations ofthe peons and smoke his cigar in the patio, Louis felt himself led byhis dreamy spirit to indulge in poetical reveries, and to seek a fewminutes' solitude in the Eden which lay before him. Urged by an unknownpower, intoxicated by the sweet odours which embalmed the atmosphere, heglided into the garden, casting around him a vaguely questioning look.

  The young man went dreaming along the garden walks, mechanically pullingto pieces with his fingers a rose which he had gathered. He had walkedthus for nearly an hour, when he was roused by a slight noise amongthe leaves, at a short distance from him. He instinctively raised hishead, just in time to catch a glimpse of a light white robe which wasdisappearing among the trees, but too late to completely distinguish theperson who wore it, and who appeared to trip over the dewy grass likea white phantom. At the sight of this mysterious apparition the youngman felt his heart bound in his breast; he stopped trembling, and theemotion he felt was so powerful, that he was forced to lean against atree for support.

  "What can be the matter with me?" he murmured to himself, as he wipedthe cold perspiration from his brow. "I am mad!" he continued, with aforced smile. "I think I see her everywhere. Heavens! I love her sodeeply that, in spite of myself, my imagination brings her before meunceasingly. That girl, of whom I just caught a glimpse, is probably thesame we last night so miraculously saved. Poor child! Fortunately shedid not see me; I should have frightened her. Better avoid her by goingout of the garden; in my present state I should alarm her."

  And, as always happens in such cases, he set off, on the contrary, inthe very footsteps of her he had only caught a glimpse of, but whom, byone of the instinctive feelings of sympathy which come from God, andwhich science can never explain, he had nevertheless recognized.

  The young girl, reclining in the depths of an arbour, like a hummingbirdin its bed of muss, with a pale face, and her eyes cast down to theearth, was listening, pensive and sad, to the joyous melodies which thebirds chanted in her absent ear. All at once, a slight noise made herstart and raise her head. The Count was before her! She uttered a faintcry, and endeavoured to fly.

  "Don Louis!" she exclaimed.

  She had recognized him. The young man sank on his knees at the entranceof the arbour.

  "Oh!" he cried, in a voice trembling with emotion, and with an accent ofthe most earnest entreaty, "for pity's sake, remain, madam!"

  "Don Louis!" she repeated, already recovered, and feigning the mostperfect indifference. Young girls, even the purest, possess in a highdegree the talent of concealing their feelings, and of deceiving personswith regard to the emotions they really experience.

  "Yes, it is I, madam," he continued, with an accent of the mostrespectful passion; "I, who, to see you again, have abandonedeverything!"

  The young lady displayed some slight surprise.

  "For Heaven's sake!" he resumed, "allow me once more, if but for aninstant, to contemplate your adored features! Oh!" he added, with a lookof deep affection, "my heart had told me you were here, before my eyeshad perceived you."

  "Caballero," she said, in a tremulous voice, "I do not understand you."

  "Oh, fear nothing from me, madam!" he interrupted her vehemently; "myrespect for you is as profound as----

  "Pray, caballero," she said, earnestly, "rise; if anyone should surpriseyou thus!"

  "Madam," he replied, "the avowal I have to make to you, requires me toremain in the position of a suppliant!"

  "Oh, caballero!"

  "I love you, madam!" he said, in broken accents; "I know not what givesme the boldness to pronounce a word which in France I did not ventureto breathe in your ear, and which I have never allowed to pass from myheart to my lips. But even if you banished me from your presence forever, once again I must tell you that I love you, madam; and if you donot return my love, I shall die!"

  The maiden looked at him for a moment with a melancholy air; a teartrembled on her long eyelashes; she took a step towards him, and holdingout her hand, upon which he imprinted a burning kiss, said softly,--

  "Rise."

  The Count obeyed. Dona Rosario sunk back upon the bench behind her,and appeared plunged in profound and painful meditation. Both remainedsilent, Louis watching her with intense anxiety, and a throbbing heart.At length she raised her head, and exhibited a countenance bathed intears.

  "Caballero," she said in a melancholy tone, "if God has permitted us tomeet once again, it is because, in His divine goodness, He has judgedthat a decisive explanation should take place between us."

  The young man appeared anxious to speak.

  "Do not interrupt me," she continued, "or I shall not have the courageto finish what I have to say to you. You love me, Louis; your presencehere is an incontestable proof of it--you love me; and yet how manytimes, during my short residence in France, have you cursed me insecret, accusing me of coquetry, or, at least, of unaccountable levity!"

  "Madam!"

  "Oh!" she said, with a faint smile, "since you have avowed your lovefor me, I will be frank with you, Louis; and although it be my duty todeprive you of all future hope, I am at least anxious to justify thepast, and leave you a remembrance of me that nothing can tarnish!"

  "Oh, madam! why do you repeat such things to me?"

  "Why?" she said, with a look full of melancholy, and in a voiceharmonious as the sigh of an AEolian harp, "because I have faith in thatlove, so warm, so young, so true; which neither daily indignities norvast distances have been able to conquer--b
ecause, in short, I also loveyou! do you not plainly see that, Louis?"

  On hearing this confession, so ingenuous, and made in a tone sosorrowful that the young girl appeared no longer to belong to earth, theCount felt struck by a terrible presentiment; his heart was wrung withdoubtful agony. Trembling, bewildered, he gazed on her with the fixedand desperate eye of one condemned to death, who is listening to thereading of his sentence.

  "Yes!" she resumed, with feverish eagerness; "yes, I love you, Louis, Ishall always love you; but never, never, can we be united."

  "Oh, that is impossible!" he cried, raising his head vehemently.

  "Listen to me," she said, in a tone of authority; "I do not order you toforget me, Louis; a love like yours is eternal: alas! I feel that minewill last as long as my life. You see, my friend, I am frank; I do notspeak to you as a maiden ought to speak; I unfold my heart before you,leaving you to read it as you would your own. Well, this love, whichwould be for us the height of felicity,--this communion of two spirits,which blend with each other to form one blissful whole,--this boundlesshappiness must be dispersed for ever, without chance of recovery,without hesitation!"

  "Oh, I cannot consent!" he exclaimed, in a voice broken by sobs.

  "But it must be so, I tell you!" she continued, wild with anguish."Great Heaven! what more do you require of me? Must I confess everythingto you? Well, then, since it must be so, know that I am a miserablecreature, condemned from my birth, pursued by a terrible hatred,which follows me step by step, which watches me incessantly; and someday--tomorrow, perhaps today--will crush me without mercy! Obligedto change my name constantly; flying from city to city, from countryto country; wherever I may go, this implacable enemy, whom I do notknow, and against whom I cannot defend myself, pursues me withoutintermission."

  "But I will defend you!" the young man said, with confident energy.

  "And I, on my part, am not willing that you should die!" she replied,with an accent of ineffable tenderness. "To attach yourself to me isto court destruction. I went to France to seek a place of refuge. Iwas obliged to quit that hospitable land with the greatest suddenness.Arrived here only a few weeks since, but for you, last night, I shouldhave been lost! No, no, I am condemned; I know I am, and I am resigned;but I will not drag you down in my fall! Alas! I am, perhaps, doomed tosuffer tortures still more horrible than those I have hitherto endured!Oh, Louis, in the name of the love which you have for me, and which Ifully share, leave me the supreme consolation in my wretchedness ofknowing that you are safe from the torments which overwhelm me!"

  At this moment Valentine's voice was heard at a short distance, andCaesar came wagging his tail to his master. Dona Rosario gathered ablossom of the _suchil_ which grew close to them, and presented it tothe young man, after having for a moment inhaled its sweet odour.

  "Here," she said, "my friend, accept this flower, the only memorial,alas! that will remain with you of me."

  The young man concealed the flower in his bosom.

  "Someone is coming," she continued, in broken accents. "Swear, Louis!swear to quit this country as soon as possible, without endeavouring tosee me again."

  The Count hesitated.

  "Oh!" he cried, "some day, perhaps,----"

  "Never on earth. Have I not told you that I am condemned? Swear, Louis,that at least I may hope to meet you again in heaven."

  She pronounced these words with such a tone of despair, that the youngman, overcome, in spite of himself, made a gesture of assent, and letthe almost inarticulate words escape his lips,--

  "I swear to do so!"

  "Thanks! thanks!" she cried wildly, and hurriedly imprinting a kiss uponthe brow of her prostrated lover, she disappeared with the lightness ofa fawn amidst a thicket of standard roses, at the moment when Valentinebecame visible at the turning of the walk.

  "Why brother," the soldier said gaily, "what the deuce are you abouthere, at the bottom of the garden? Breakfast is waiting for you. I havebeen looking for you this hour; and if it had not been for Caesar, Ishould not have found you now."

  The Count turned towards him, his face lathed in tears, and threw hisarms round his neck.

  "Brother! brother!" he cried, in an accent of despair; "I am the mostunhappy of men!"

  Valentine looked at him in astonishment. The Count had fainted.

  "What on earth is all this about?" said the soldier, casting asuspicious look around him, and laying his foster brother, who wasmotionless as a corpse, gently upon a grassy bank.