CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CHINGANA.
Valdivia, founded in 1551 by the Spanish conqueror Don Pedro deValdivia, is a charming city, two leagues from the sea, upon the leftbank of a river, which large vessels can easily ascend into the fertilevalley of Guadallanguen. The aspect of the city, the advanced post ofcivilization in these remote countries, is most agreeable; the streetsare large, uniformly built; the white houses, only one story high,on account of the frequency of earthquakes, are terrace-roofed. Hereand there rise in the air the steeples of the numerous churches andconvents, which occupy more than a third of the city. It is astonishingto what an extent convents are multiplied in South America. It mightbe supposed that the New World was the land of promise for monks; theyappear to rise out of the earth at every step. Thanks to the extensivecommerce which Valdivia carries on by means of its port, which isvisited by the numerous whalers fishing in those seas, and ships whichcome there to refit, after doubling Cape Horn, or before passingit,--its streets have more animation than is generally to be met with inAmerican cities.
Don Tadeo arrived in Valdivia, accompanied by Don Gregorio and DonaRosario, on the evening of the sixteenth day after his departure fromhis friend's chacra. They had used all diligence, and for that country,where there are no other means of travelling but on horseback, it mightbe considered a quick journey. If the two gentlemen had thought properto do so, they might have entered the city about three o'clock in theafternoon, but they deemed it advisable that no one in a place whereso many people knew them should be made aware of their arrival: in thefirst place, because the causes which brought them there required thegreatest secrecy; and, further, because Don Tadeo was forced to concealhimself, in order to avoid the police agents of the president of therepublic, who had orders to arrest him wherever they might meet withhim. Fortunately, in these countries the police never arrest anybodywhen not absolutely compelled, unless those whom they pursue come anddeliver themselves up into their hands--an event, we may safely say,that rarely happens.
As during his sojourn at Valdivia, his manner of living must beregulated by the affairs which brought him there, he could not openlykeep house or appear in public, Don Tadeo went straight to the conventof the Ursulines, and committed the young lady he had brought with himto the care of the abbess, who was not only his relation, but was aworthy person, in whom he had perfect confidence. Dona Rosario acceptedwithout hesitation the asylum which was offered to her, and where shefancied she should be safe from the attacks of her invisible enemies.Don Tadeo took an affectionate leave of her and the venerable abbess,and hastened to a house of the calle San-Xavier, where Don Gregorio, whohad left him on entering the city, to avoid observation, awaited hiscoming.
"Well?" asked Don Gregorio, as soon as he saw him.
"She is in safety; at least I suppose so," Don Tadeo replied, with asigh.
"So much the better, for we must redouble our precautions."
"Why so?"
"After leaving you I made inquiries; I observed, I questioned people asI walked about and loitered at the port and the Almeda."
"Well, what have you learnt?"
"As we imagined, General Bustamente is here."
"Already?"
"He arrived three days ago."
"What reason could be so important as to bring him here?" said DonTadeo, with an uneasy expression. "Oh, I will know!"
"Another thing: who do you think accompanies him?"
"The executioner, no doubt!" said Don Tadeo, with an ironical smile.
"Almost as bad," Don Gregorio replied.
"Whom do you mean, then?"
"The Linda!"
The chief of the Dark-Hearts turned deadly pale.
"Oh," he said, "that woman! for ever that woman! you must be mistaken,my friend; it is impossible!"
"I have seen her."
Don Tadeo walked about in great agitation for several minutes; then,stopping short in front of his friend, said, in a husky voice--
"Dear Don Gregorio, are you certain you have not been misled by aresemblance? Are you quite sure it was she?"
"You had just left me, and I was coming hither, when the sound of horsesmade me turn my head, and I saw, I repeat I saw, the Linda; she alsoappeared to have just arrived at Valdivia; two lancers escorted her, andan arriero led the baggage mules.
"Oh!" said Don Tadeo, "will the infernal malice of that demon everpursue me?"
"My friend," Don Gregorio remarked, "in the path we have undertaken totread, every obstacle must, unhesitatingly, be destroyed."
"What, kill a woman?" the gentleman said, with horror.
"I do not say that, but place her in such a position that she cannotpossibly injure anyone. Remember, we are Dark-Hearts, and, as such, weought to be without pity."
"Silence!" Don Tadeo murmured, as two low, quick taps were struck on thedoor.
"Come in!" cried Don Gregorio.
The door opened, and Don Pedro showed his polecat face. He did notrecognize the two men whom, in the various meetings he had had withthem, he had always seen masked.
"God preserve you, gentlemen!" he said, with a profound bow.
"What is your pleasure, sir?" Don Gregorio asked, in a coldly-politetone, while returning his salutation.
"Sir," said Don Pedro, looking about for a seat which was not offeredhim, "I have just arrived from Santiago."
Don Gregorio bowed again.
"On my departure from that city, a banker in whose hands I had placedfunds, gave me several bills; among others this, addressed to DonGregorio Peratla, payable at sight."
"That is my name, sir; be so kind as to hand it to me."
"As you see, sir, the bill is for twenty-three ounces."
"Very well, sir," replied Don Gregorio, as he took it, "allow me toexamine it."
Don Pedro bowed in his turn, whilst Don Gregorio, approaching aflambeau, looked attentively at the bill of exchange, put it into hispocket, and took some money from his purse.
"Here are the twenty-three ounces, sir," he said, giving them.
The spy took them, counted the gold pieces, examining them attentively,and then put them into his pocket.
"It is very singular, sir," he said, just as the two gentlemen thoughtthey were about to be relieved of his presence.
"What is it, sir?" asked Don Gregorio; "do you not find the amountright?"
"Oh, pardon me, perfectly right; but," he added, with a slighthesitation, "I thought you had been a merchant?"
"And what leads you to think otherwise?"
"Because I see no desks."
"They are in another part of the house," Don Gregorio replied; "I am aprivate trader."
"Oh, very well, sir."
"And, if I had not thought you had pressing need of the money--"
"Very pressing!" the other interrupted.
"I should have begged you to call again tomorrow, for, at this latehour, my cashbox is closed."
And thereupon he waved his hand, rather haughtily, as dismissing him.Don Pedro retired, visibly disappointed.
"That is a double-faced fellow, I am sure," said Don Gregorio; "I shouldnot wonder if he were a spy of the General."
"Oh, I know him!" Don Tadeo replied; "I have about me proofs of histreachery. He has been a necessary instrument; at present he may injureus. He must be crushed."
Don Gregorio drew from his pocket the bill which had been presented tohim, and holding it to Don Tadeo--
"Look at this," he said.
This bill, payable at sight, appeared perfectly like others. It wasdrawn in the usual form: _At sight, please pay_, &c. &c.; but, in twoor three places, the pen, too hard, no doubt, had spluttered and formeda certain number of little black spots, of which some were almostimperceptible. It appeared that these black spots had a meaning for thetwo men; for as soon as Don Tadeo had cast his eyes over the bill, heseized his cloak, and folded himself in it.
"It is Heaven that protects us!" he said; "we must go thither withoutdelay."
"
That is my opinion, likewise," Don Gregorio replied, holding the billto the light, and burning it till there was not a particle of it left.The two men took each a long dagger and a brace of pistols, which theyconcealed under their clothes--the conspirators were too well acquaintedwith their country to neglect these precautions--they pulled the flapsof their hats over their faces, and wrapping themselves up to the veryeyes, like two lovers or seekers of adventures, they descended into thestreet.
It was one of those splendid nights unknown in our foggy climates; thesky, of a dark blue, was thickly studded with an infinite number ofstars, among which conspicuously shone the brilliant Southern Cross;the air was embalmed with a thousand odours, and a light sea breezerefreshed the atmosphere, which had been heated by the torrid sunbeamsduring the past day. The two men passed silently and rapidly throughthe joyous groups which traversed the streets in all directions. It isin the evening that the Americans leave their homes to take the air andenjoy the freshness.
The conspirators appeared to hear neither the enticing sounds of thevihuela which vibrated in their ears, nor the refrains of sambacuejaswhich flew in gusts from the chinganas, nor the bursts of fresh, silverylaughter of the black-eyed, rosy-lipped girls, who elbowed them ontheir way. They walked thus for a long time, turning round at intervalsto ascertain if they were followed, plunging by degrees into thelowest quarters of the city, and at length stopped at a house of meanappearance, from which issued the loud but not very melodious strains ofmusic eminently national.
This house was a chingana, a name which has no equivalent in Frenchor English. A Chilian chingana presents so eccentrically droll anappearance, that it would defy the pencil of Callot, and is beyond alldescription. Let the reader figure to himself a low room, with smokywalls, the floor of which is but beaten earth, and rendered filthy bythe detritus left by the feet of incessantly arriving and departingvisitors. In the centre of this den, lighted only by a smoky lamp calleda _candil_, by which it is impossible to distinguish more than theshadows of the customers, are seated four men upon stools. Two of themare twanging wretched guitars, which have lost most of their strings,with the backs of their hands; the third plays the tambourine with histhumbs upon a crippled table, striking it with all his might; whilstthe fourth rolls between his hands a piece of bamboo six feet long,split into several strips, which yield the most discordant sound thatcan possibly be imagined. The four musicians, not content with theformidable clatter made by their instruments, shout, at the very top oftheir voices, songs which we can neither venture to repeat nor translate.
All this infernal noise is made to excite the dancers, who flutterabout, assuming the most lascivious postures they can invent, amidst thehearty applause of the spectators, who writhe with delight, stamp theirfeet with pleasure, and sometimes, carried away by the harmony, thunderout all together, the burthen of the song, with the musicians anddancers. Amidst this disturbance, these cries and stampings, wind in andout the master of the establishment and his waiters, armed with couis ofchicha, bottles of aguardiente, and even guarapo, to slake the thirstof the customers, who, to do them justice, the more they drink the morethirsty they become, and the more they wish to drink.
Twice or thrice in the course of an evening, it may happen that someof the guests, more heated than the rest, or seized by the demon ofjealousy, take it into their heads to quarrel. Then knives are drawnfrom the polena, ponchos are rolled round the left arm to serve asbucklers, the music ceases, and a circle is formed round the combatants.The sanguinary contest begins, and when one of the combatants hasfallen, he is carried into the street, the music is resumed, the dancerecommences, and no more is thought of the poor wounded or dying man.
It was in front of one of these establishments that the chief of theDark-Hearts and his friend had stopped; they did not hesitate. Pullingup the folds of their cloaks so as to completely conceal their faces,they entered the chingana: in spite of the pestilential atmosphere whichnearly choked them, they passed unnoticed through the drinkers, andgained the further end of the room. The cellar door stood ajar; theyopened it softly, and disappeared down the steps. After descending tenof these, they found themselves in a cellar, where a man, leaning over abarrel, which he appeared to be occupied in putting in its place, saidto them, without interrupting his work--
"Would you like some aguardiente de pesco, some mescal, or some chica?"
"Neither the one nor the other," Don Tadeo replied; "we wish for someFrench wine."
The man sprang up as if moved by a spring. The two adventurers had puton their masks.
"Do you wish to have it white or red?" the man asked.
"Red--as red as blood," said Don Tadeo.
"Of what year?" the unknown rejoined.
"Of that vintaged on the 5th of April, 1817," said Don Tadeo.
"Then you must come this way, gentlemen," the man replied, with arespectful bow; "the wine you do me the honour to call for is extremelyvaluable; it is kept in a separate cellar."
"To be drunk at Martinmas," Don Tadeo remarked.
The man, who seemed only to wait for this last reply to his question,smiled with an air of intelligence, and laid his hand lightly on thewall. A stone turned slowly round upon itself, without the least noise,and opened a passage to the conspirators, which they immediatelyentered, and the stone instantly returned to its place.
In the chingana, the cries, the songs, and the music had acquired anintensity really formidable; the joy of the tipplers was at its height.
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