DIPLOMACY.
Meanwhile the storm had abated, the sky became cloudless, and the sun
burst out with a warm glow that was very welcome.
Emile, after having confided the two ladies to the care of the Guarani,
had left the tambo, oppressed by a sad apprehension.
At first, carried away by the vivacity of his disposition, he had, at
the peril of his life, tried to save men threatened with a frightful
death; but, the danger passed, all the difficulty of his position
suddenly appeared to him.
The young man's position was critical; an event impossible to foresee
had destroyed all his plans. The storm, in thus coming to the aid
of the Pincheyras, obliged the Frenchman to adopt a system of
dissimulation incompatible with his loyal character.
However, there was no other means than that; he must adopt it. The
young man resigned himself to it--against his will, it is true--hoping
that perhaps fate might weary of persecuting the two weak creatures
whom he wished to serve.
A prey to by no means pleasurable thoughts, Emile, with his arms
crossed behind his back, and his head leaning on his breast, paced with
an agitated step the open space before the tambo, when he heard himself
called several times in a loud voice.
He raised his head. Don Zeno and Don Pablo Pincheyra, seated side by
side on the banks of a ditch, made a sign to him to join them.
"What do these demons want with me?" murmured he, in his manner of
speaking to himself in a low tone. "They are certainly two good
specimens of scoundrels. Ah!" said he, with a sigh, "How happy was
Salvator Rosa--he who could at his ease paint all the brigands that
he met! What a splendid picture I could make here! What a magnificent
landscape!"
Speaking thus, the young man directed his steps towards the two
partisans, before whom he found himself just at the last word of his
"aside." He bowed to them, with a smile on his face.
"You wish to speak to me, gentlemen?" said he. "Can I be of any service
to you?"
"You can," answered Zeno Cabral, smiling, "render me a service for
which I should be ever grateful."
"Although I am ignorant as to what you expect of me, and what is
the service you are about to ask of me, I do not wish to abuse your
confidence, and to deceive you. It is well that we should thoroughly
understand our position."
"What do you mean, señor?" asked Don Zeno, with a start of surprise.
"I will explain. You doubtless do not recognise me, señor. I confess
that at first, when I came to your help, I did not know who was the man
whose life I had saved; but now I recognise you as Don--"
"Sebastiao Vianna, a Portuguese officer, a friend and aide-de-camp of
General the Marquis de Castelmelhor," quickly interrupted Don Zeno.
"Parbleu! Why hesitate? I by no means conceal my name; I have no reason
for making a mystery of it. Don Pablo knows that--a devoted friend of
the marchioness and her daughter--my mission has no other design than
the conducting them safely to the general."
"There is nothing but what is very honourable in this mission," chimed
in the Pincheyra, "and with God's help the colonel will accomplish it."
"I hope so," answered Don Zeno.
"Just so," answered the young man, taken aback by what he heard.
"Ah!" murmured he, "Whom do they think they are deceiving?"
"Is that all you wished to say?" continued Don Zeno.
"Yes, that is all," answered the painter, bowing.
"Very well," pursued the partisan with an agreeable smile, "I did not
expect less from your courtesy; but what you do not wish to state, it
is for me to make known, and to avow boldly."
"Your conduct towards me, Don Emile," he continued--"you see I remember
your name--is so much the handsomer and more generous, inasmuch as
mine, in appearance at least, is not in your estimation free from
blame. At our first meeting, I wished, I believe, if my memory is
faithful, to arrest you as a spy."
"I thank you for this frankness, señor," answered the young man,
smiling.
"You misunderstand me, caballero," pursued the partisan with animation,
"and that does not surprise me. You cannot understand the strange and
abnormal position that we Southern Americans occupy at this time. I
speak decisively, because I expect a last service, or, if you prefer to
call it so, a last proof of your generosity."
Emile Gagnepain was a thoroughly clear-sighted man. The deliberate
manner of the partisan who, while passing lightly over the details, yet
confessed his errors, pleased him by its very eccentricity.
"Speak, Don Sebastiao," he answered; "I shall be happy to render you
the service that you expect, if it is in my power."
"I know it, and I thank you for it, señor. I will state what it is in a
few words."
"Speak, señor," answered the young man, his curiosity excited by such
long preambles.
Don Zeno appeared for some time a prey to uncertainty and indecision;
but, overcoming his feelings, whatever they were, he cast a look to
where Don Pablo Pincheyra was apathetically smoking a cigarette,
without appearing in any way to concern himself with the conversation.
"Here is the fact in a few words," he said; "Don Pablo Pincheyra,
my friend, has informed me that you accompanied the Marchioness de
Castelmelhor and her daughter, when his brother conducted them to
Casa-Frama."
"That is true," gravely answered the painter; "these ladies did me the
honour to accept me as guide."
"Then you are devoted to them?" decisively asked the partisan.
The painter did not wince; he suspected a snare.
"Pardon," he said, in a tone of kindliness, impossible to describe.
"Before going any further, let us understand each other thoroughly,
caballero. You say, do you not, that I am devoted to these unfortunate
ladies?"
"Is it not true?" added the Pincheyra.
"To a certain extent it is, señor. These ladies required aid; I was
near them, and they claimed mine. To refuse them would neither have
been gallant nor in good taste. I, therefore, acceded to their wishes;
but you know as well as anyone, Don Pablo, that yesterday, having
learnt that they had no further need of me, I took leave of them."
"Hum I that is awkward," murmured Zeno Cabral. "Had you, then, serious
reasons for acting thus?"
"Not precisely, señor; I have always acted in good faith with these
ladies."
There was a long silence between the three speakers. The tone of the
young painter was so artless and decidedly frank, that Don Zeno,
notwithstanding all his skill, could not ascertain whether he gave
expression to his real thoughts, or was deceiving him.
"I am disheartened by what you tell me, as I intended to ask you to do
me a service."
"With regard to these ladies?" said the young man, with astonishment.
"A service for which, by the by, I should be extremely grateful."
"I do not see in what I can serve you, señor."
"But I do. Look here, my dear sir; we are playing with our cards under
the table."
"I do not know why you speak thus, señor; my policy towards you should,
I think, be sufficient to place me above suspicion of treachery,"
answered he.
"These ladies," Don Zeno continued, "whether rightly or wrongly, I
will not discuss with you, imagine that they are surrounded by enemies
determined on their destruction. Perhaps, if I presented myself to
them, their mind, embittered by misfortunes, would see in me, whom they
know but imperfectly, instead of a sure friend and a devoted servant,
one of their enemies."
"Oh," cried the painter, haughtily, "what is that you are saying,
señor? Are you not the aide-de-camp of General the Marquis de
Castelmelhor?"
"That is true," answered the partisan, with embarrassment.
"Well, it seems to me, caballero, that that position ought to serve as
a safeguard."
"Well, it probably would do so--at least I hope so. Unfortunately,
reasons of the highest importance necessitate my trusting to someone
else. That other--"
"Is to be me, is it not?" quickly interrupted the young man. "That is
what you wanted to propose, caballero?"
"Whom could I choose if not you, señor?--you who know these ladies, and
they have full confidence in you."
"Unhappily, caballero, my consent is necessary in this matter, and I
have already had the honour to say, if not to you, at least to Don
Pablo, that I do not feel at all disposed to continue, in respect to
these ladies, the part that I have played for nearly a month. I am much
concerned for them, but I must withdraw my support from them."
This tirade was uttered by the young man with such comic desperation,
that the two partisans could not prevent themselves from laughing.
"Come, come," answered Don Zeno; "you are an excellent companion, and
I see with pleasure that I was not deceived in you. Reassure yourself;
the mission that I wish to confide to you is by no means perilous."
"Hum! Who knows?" murmured the young man.
"I give you my word, as a gentleman," resumed Don Zeno, "that when you
arrive you will be free, and nobody will molest you."
"Hum! Hum!" again murmured the young man.
"Ah!" suddenly exclaimed Don Pablo Pincheyra, rising. "Why, then, my
dear Don Sebastiao, do you not continue the escort of these ladies?"
"Have I not acquainted you," responded Don Zeno, "with the message
which was given to me by the cavalier who met us on our first departure
from the camp?"
"That is true," said Don Pablo, "I did not think of that. The message
is important, then?"
"It could not be more so."
"Diable! Let us see, Don Emile," pursued the Pincheyra, in a
conciliatory tone. "If I could, I would not hesitate to escort these
two unfortunate ladies."
"You refuse me this service, then, caballero?" added Don Zeno.
"Well," said the young man, as if it had cost him a great deal to make
this determination, "as you wish it, for this time I again consent to
take upon myself an embarrassment of which I thought I was rid. I will
escort these ladies."
Don Zeno made a gesture of joy which he immediately repressed.
"Thank you, caballero," said he. "Perhaps God will permit me, someday,
to acquit myself of all that I owe you. Now that this affair is settled
to our mutual satisfaction, allow me to take leave of you."
"Do you intend to depart so quickly then?"
"It must be. I cannot make too great haste. So, now that I have rested
myself sufficiently for the various fatigues that I have for some time
endured, I leave you, confiding in your loyal word, and convinced that
you will act up to it."
"I shall fulfil my promise, señor."
"Thank you, caballero. I entirely reckon on you."
And after having amicably taken the hand of the young Frenchman, and
having courteously bowed to Don Pablo, the partisan proceeded to rejoin
his companions.
Don Zeno mounted his horse, made a last salute, and giving his horse
the bridle, departed at full speed.
The painter followed him with his eyes as long as he could perceive
him. Then, when at last the Montonero had disappeared behind the point
of a rock, he gave a sigh of relief.
"That is one; now for the other? As to the latter, I think it will not
be very difficult."
Don Pablo, still seated on the hillock of which he had made a seat,
continued to smoke his cigarette.
The young man seated himself at his side, considered a moment, and
placing his hand on the other's shoulder:
"Vive Dieu! Don Pablo," cried he with vigour; "For A month past I have
lived in your camp; I have seen you accomplish marvellous things; but
this far surpasses all the others."
"Eh!" said the partisan. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I render you homage, that is all."
"Homage!" repeated Don Pablo; "Why?"
"What makes you say why? Parbleu! I did not expect such an excess of
modesty."
"Are we speaking in enigmas?"
"Do I not Know that you have played your part to perfection--I who,
without being in the secret of the motives which have induced you to
act thus, know the man as well as you."
"What secret? What motives? And of what man do you speak, companion?"
cried Don Pablo impatiently.
"Pardieu! Of the man who has just left us."
"Don Sebastiao Vianna, the aide-de-camp of General de Castelmelhor."
"Well, it is capitally played," said Emile. "But now all dissimulation
is useless. For the rest, if you persist in not uttering his name, that
is your own affair. All this, in fact, does not much disturb me. You
are free to give to Don Zeno Cabral the name of Dom Sebastiao."
"Eh!" cried the partisan, jumping up, "What name did you say?"
Don Pablo knit his eyebrows. A livid pallor covered his face.
"So this man," cried he, in a voice stifled by anger, "this man is Don
Zeno Cabral?"
"Did you really not know that?" asked the young man.
"Yes, I was ignorant of it," cried the Pincheyra. "Do you swear it?"
"Pardieu! I have known him so long that I cannot be deceived."
The partisan darted a fierce look at him. He opened his mouth to speak,
but changing his mind, he turned suddenly, and proceeded hastily
towards his men, encamped around the tambo.
"To horse! To horse!" cried he to them.
"I believe," murmured the Frenchman, following him with a searching
glance, "that the first one will free me from this one, unless it
should be that this man should deliver me from the first."