THE LAST BLOW.
On the morrow the sun rose radiantly in floods of gold and purple.
Mexico was rejoicing. The city had resumed its festive air; it seemed
to have returned to the bright days of calmness and tranquillity: the
whole population was in the streets; the motley crowd were hastening
with shouts, songs, and laughter to the Paseo de Bucareli. Military
bands, drums and fifes, could be heard playing in different directions.
Staff officers, dressed in uniforms glistening with gold, and plumed
hats, were galloping about to deliver orders. The troops left their
barracks, and proceeded toward the Paseo, where they drew up on either
side of the great avenue.
The artillery took up position in front of the equestrian statue of
King Charles IV., whom the leperos insist on confounding with Fernando
Cortez, and the cavalry, only eleven hundred strong, were, drawn up
on the Alameda. The leperos and boys took advantage of the occasion
for rejoicing by discharging firecrackers and squibs between the legs
of the loungers. At about ten a.m. loud shouts were heard rapidly
drawing nearer the Paseo. The people were greeting the President of the
Republic.
General Miramón came up in the midst of a brilliant staff. The
expression on the President's face was a glad one, he seemed to be
pleased with these shouts of "Long live Miramón!" uttered as he
passed, and which proved to him that the people still loved him and
were displaying, after their fashion, their gratitude for the heroic
resolution he had formed of risking a final battle on the open field,
instead of awaiting the enemy within the city. The general bowed
smilingly to the right and left. When he reached the entrance of the
Paseo, twenty pieces of artillery thundered simultaneously, and thus
announced his presence to the troops massed on the promenade. Then,
rapid orders ran along the ranks, the soldiers fell in, the regimental
bands began playing, the bugles sounded, the drums beat, the general
passed slowly along the front, and the review began. The soldiers
seemed full of ardour, the crowd had communicated their enthusiasm to
them, and they shouted, "Long live Miramón!" heartily, as the President
passed.
The inspection held by the general was short and conscientious. It was
not one of those reviews which rulers now and then offer the people as
an amusement. On leaving the city these troops were going to march
straight into action, and the great object was to know whether they
were really in a condition to face the foe, whom they would attack a
few hours later. The general's orders had been scrupulously carried
out, the troops were well armed, and they had a martial air which it
was a pleasure to see. When the President had passed along the ranks,
now and then addressing soldiers whom he recognized, or pretended to
recognize, an old method which always succeeds, as it flatters the
soldier's self-esteem, he stationed himself in the centre of the Paseo,
and ordered several manoeuvres in order to gain an idea of the training
of the troops. These manoeuvres, some of which were rather difficult,
were executed with very satisfactory precision. The President warmly
congratulated the commanding officers, and then the marching pass
began; but, after passing in front of the President, the troops resumed
their former positions, and established a temporary bivouac.
Miramón, not wishing uselessly to fatigue his troops by compelling
them to march during the great heat, had resolved not to set out till
nightfall. Up to that moment the troops would bivouac on the Paseo.
Among the officers who composed the President's staff, and returned
with him to the palace, were don Melchior de la Cruz, don Antonio
Cacerbar, and don Jaime. Don Melchior, though he was rather surprised
at seeing in military uniform a man whom he had hitherto only known
by the name of don Adolfo, and whom he supposed to be engaged in
smuggling transactions, saluted him with an ironical smile. Don Jaime
duly returned his salute, and got away, as he was not at all desirous
of entering into conversation with him. As for don Antonio, as he had
never seen don Jaime with his face uncovered, he paid no attention to
him.
While the President was returning to the palace, don Jaime, who had
stopped on the Plaza Mayor, dismounted, and was joined by the count
and Dominique, with whom he had made an appointment, though they would
not have recognized him, had he not taken the precaution of walking
straight up to them.
"Are you going with the army?" they asked him.
"Yes, my friends, I am: but I shall be back here: unfortunately the
campaign will not be a long one. During my absence, redouble your
vigilance, I implore you: do not let my sister's house out of sight;
one of our enemies will remain in the city."
"Only one?" said Dominique.
"Yes; but he is the more formidable of the two; the one whose life you
so clumsily saved, Dominique."
"Good; I know him," the young man answered, "he had better look out."
"And don Melchior?" the count asked.
"He will not trouble us," don Jaime answered, with a singular accent.
"So, my dear friends, watch attentively, and do not allow yourselves to
be surprised."
"If necessary we will make Leo Carral and our servants help us."
"That will be more prudent; and perhaps you would act wisely by lodging
them in the house."
"We will attend to that."
"Now let us part, I have business at the palace. Good-bye for the
present, my friends."
They separated. Don Jaime entered the palace and proceeded to the
President's cabinet. The usher knew him, and raised no difficulty about
letting him pass. Miramón was listening to the reports several scouts
made him touching the enemy's movements. Don Jaime sat down and waited
patiently till the President had finished his examination. At length
the last scout completed his report and withdrew.
"Well," the President said, with a laugh, "have you seen the
ambassador?"
"Certainly, General. Last night, after leaving you."
"And the famous letter?"
"Here it is," he said, handing it to him.
The general took the paper with a start of surprise, and rapidly
perused it.
"Well?" don Jaime asked him.
"We have not only carte blanche?" he answered; "But I am even begged to
act severely against this man; it is wonderful, on my honour. You have
more than carried out my promises. How did you manage it?"
"I simply asked for the letter."
"You are the most mysterious man I know: it is now my turn to fulfil my
promise."
"There is no hurry."
"Do you no longer wish to have him arrested?"
"On the contrary: but not till our return."
"As you please: but what shall we do in the meanwhile?"
"We will leave him under the orders of the Town Commandant."
"By Jove, you are right."
The President wrote an order, sealed it, and called the usher. "Is
Colonel Cacerbar here?" he asked.
"Yes, Excellency."
"Let him carry this order to the Town Commandant."
The usher took the order and went away.
"That is done," said the President.
Don Jaime remained with the general till the hour for departure. At
nightfall, the troops began defiling on the plaza, surrounded by
the people, who shouted lustily. When all the troops had passed, the
general left the palace, in his turn, with his staff. A large squadron
of cavalry was drawn up in the plaza.
"Whose are those horsemen?" the general asked.
"My cuadrilla," don Jaime answered with a bow.
These horsemen, wrapped in long heavy cloaks, and wearing broad brimmed
hats, only allowed the end of their beard to be seen. It was in vain
that the President examined them, trying to distinguish their faces.
"You cannot recognize them," don Jaime said to him, in a low voice,
"the beards are false, their dress is in itself a disguise; but,
believe me, they will not fight the less bravely in action."
"I am persuaded of that, and thank you."
They set out. Don Jaime raised his sword, the horsemen wheeled and
stationed themselves as a rear guard, they were three hundred in
number. Differing from the Mexican cavalry, whose favourite weapon is
the lance, they were armed with a carbine, the straight sabre of the
French chasseur d'Afrique, and pistols in their holsters. At midnight
the troops camped, orders were given not to light any bivouac fires. At
about three in the morning a scout arrived. He was at once conducted to
the President.
"Ah, ah! It is you, López?" the general said, on recognizing him.
"Yes, General," López replied, with a smile to don Jaime, who was
seating by the President's side negligently smoking a cigarette.
"What news? Have you heard anything about the enemy?" Miramón asked.
"Yes, General, and quite fresh."
"All the better: where is he?"
"Four leagues from here."
"Good, we shall soon be there then. Which corps is it?"
"That of General don González Ortega."
"Bravo," the President said joyously, "you are a precious lad: here is
something for you."
He placed several pieces of gold in his hand, "Give me the details," he
continued.
"General Ortega is at the head of eleven thousand men, of whom three
thousand are cavalry, and thirty-five guns."
"Have you seen them?"
"I marched with them for more than an hour."
"In what temper are they?"
"Well, General, they are furious against you."
"Good, rest yourself, you have an hour to sleep."
López bowed and withdrew.
"At last then," said Miramón, "we are going to meet face to face."
"How many troops have you, General?" don Jaime asked.
"Six thousand, of whom eleven hundred are cavalry and twenty guns."
"Hum," said don Jaime, "against eleven thousand! It is not quite the
double my friend, courage will make up for the deficiency."
"May heaven grant it!"
At four o'clock the camp was raised: López acted; as guide. The troops,
shivering with cold, were in a very unsatisfactory temper. At about
seven they; halted, the army was drawn up in battle array in a very
advantageous position and the guns placed in battery. Don Jaime drew
up his horse behind the regular cavalry. Then, all arrangements being
made, they breakfasted. At eight o'clock, what the Spaniards call a
_tiroteo_ began to be heard: the outposts were falling back before the
heads of Ortega's columns, which were debouching on the battlefield
selected by Miramón, and were exchanging shots with them.
Nothing would have been easier for the President than to avoid the
battle, but he did not wish it, as he longed for the end. Miramón was
surrounded by his surest lieutenants, Vélez, Cobos, Negrete, Ayestarán
and Márquez. On perceiving the enemy he mounted his horse, rode along
the ranks of his small army, gave his instructions in a loud sharp
voice, strove to communicate to all the valiant ardor that inflated
him, and raising his sword in the air, shouted--
"Forward!"
The battle at once commenced. The Juarist army forced to form under
the enemy's fire, had a marked disadvantage. Miramón's troops, excited
by the example of their young chief, who was only twenty-six years
of age, fought like lions and performed prodigies of valour. In vain
did the Juarists try to establish themselves in the position they had
chosen; they were driven back several times by the vigorous charges of
the enemy. In spite of their numerical superiority, the soldiers only
advanced inch by inch, and were constantly driven back and broken by
the President's troops.
Miramón's lieutenants, into whom his soul seemed to have passed, placed
themselves at the head of the troops, drew them after them, and dashed
into the thickest of the fight. One more effort, and the battle was
gained, and Ortega forced to retreat. Miramón hurried up. He judged
the position with an infallible glance. The moment had arrived to hurl
his cavalry on the centre of the Juarists, and break it by a decisive
charge. The President shouted: "charge!" The cavalry hesitated. Miramón
repeated the order. The cavalry set out, but, instead charging,
one-half went over to the enemy, and charged with couched lances,
the other half that still remained faithful. Demoralized by this
sudden desertion, the cavalry who remained faithful turned round, and
dispersed in all directions. The infantry, on seeing themselves thus
cowardly deserted, fought without energy.
Cries of "treachery, treachery!" ran along the ranks. In vain did the
officers try to lead the soldiers again against the enemy. They were
demoralized. Ere long the flight became general. Miramón's army no
longer existed. Ortega was once again the victor but through a shameful
treachery at the very moment when he had lost the battle.
We have said that don Jaime took up a position with his cuadrilla in
the rear of Miramón's cavalry. Certainly, if three hundred men could
have changed the issue of the battle, these brave horsemen would
have accomplished the prodigy. Even when the rout was general, they
continued fighting with unparalleled obstinacy against the Juarist
cavalry, sent in pursuit of the fugitives. Don Jaime had an object in
prolonging this unequal combat. As a witness of the unworthy treachery
which had caused the loss of the battle, he had seen the officer who
was the first to pass over to the enemy with his soldiers. This officer
was don Melchior. Don Jaime recognized him, and swore to capture him.
The adventurer's cuadrilla was not composed of common horsemen, as they
had already proved and would prove again. In a few hurried words, don
Jaime explained his intention. The horsemen uttered a yell of fury, and
resolutely charged the enemy. There was a gigantic struggle of three
hundred men against three thousand. The cuadrilla entirely disappeared,
as if it had been suddenly buried beneath the formidable mass of its
adversaries. Then the Juarists began oscillating. Their ranks became
loosened. There a gap, and through this gap the cuadrilla passed,
carrying off don Melchior in its centre--a prisoner.
"To the President! To the President!" don Jaime shouted, as he dashed
with his whole band up to Miramón, who was vainly trying to rally a few
detachments.
Miramón's lieutenants, who were all his friends, had not abandoned
him. They had sworn to die with him. The cuadrilla made a last charge
for the purpose of disengaging the general. Then, after taking one
despairing glance at the battlefield, Miramón consented to listen to
his friends, and retreat. Of his whole army, scarce a thousand men
remained to him. The rest were dead, dispersed, or had gone over to the
enemy.
The first moments of the retreat were terrible. Miramón was suffering
from a fearful sorrow, caused not by his defeat, which he had foreseen,
but by the cowardly treachery of which he was the victim. When they no
longer feared being caught up by the enemy, the President ordered a
halt, to enable the horses to breathe. Miramón, leaning against a tree,
with folded arms and drooping head, maintained a stern silence, which
his generals, standing near him, did not venture to break.
Don Jaime advanced, and, stopping two paces from the President, said:
"General!"
At the sound of this friendly voice, Miramón raised his head, and
offered his hand to the adventurer.
"Is it you?" he said, "My friend? Oh! Why did I so obstinately refuse
to believe you?"
"What is done is done, General," the adventurer roughly answered. "We
cannot recall it. But, before leaving the spot where we now are, you
have a duty to fulfil--an exemplary act of justice to perform."
"What do you mean?" he asked with amazement.
The other generals drew nearer, no less surprised than he.
"You know why we were defeated?" the adventurer continued.
"Because we were betrayed."
"But do you know the traitor, General?"
"No, I do not," he said, passionately.
"Well, I do. I was there when he carried out his cowardly project, and
was watching him; for I had been suspecting him for some time past."
"What matter? The villain cannot be reached now."
"You are mistaken, General, for I have brought him to you. I went to
fetch him in the midst of his new comrades: and would have gone to the
infernal regions to seize him."
At these words a quiver of joy ran along the ranks.
"By Heaven!" Cobos exclaimed; "the villain deserves quartering."
"Bring the man here," Miramón said, sadly; for his heart was painfully
affected at being forced to act severely; "he shall be tried."
"That will not take long," said General Negrete; "he will meet with the
death of traitors--shot from behind."
"We have only to prove his identity, and have him executed," Cobos
added.
Don Jaime gave a signal, and don Melchior was brought up by two
soldiers. He was pale and haggard; his torn clothes were stained with
blood and mud: his hands were fastened behind his back. The officers
formed a court martial under the presidency of General Cobos.
"Your name?" the latter asked.
"Don Melchior de la Cruz," he replied in a hollow voice.
"Do you acknowledge that you went over to the enemy, taking your
command with you?"
He made no answer, but his whole body was agitated by a convulsive
tremor.
"The court is certain of this man's treachery," Cobos continued; "what
punishment has he deserved?"
"That of traitors!" the officers unanimously replied.
"Let it be carried into effect," said Cobos.
The condemned was forced on his knees. Ten corporals formed a firing
party, and placed themselves six paces behind him.
General Cobos then approached the condemned man. "Coward and traitor,"
he said to him, "you are unworthy of the rank to which you were raised.
In the name of all our companions I declare you to be degraded and
rejected from our midst."
A soldier then removed the symbols of don Melchior's rank, and gave
him a blow in the face. The young man uttered a tiger's yell at this
insult, looked around him in horror, and made a movement to rise.
"Fire!" General Cobos shouted.
A detonation was heard; the criminal uttered a fearful cry of agony,
and fell with his face on the ground, writhing in awful convulsions.
"Finish him!" Miramón said, pityingly.
"No!" Cobos cried, roughly; "Let him die like a dog. The more he
suffers, the more perfect our vengeance will be."
Miramón gave a look of disgust, and ordered the boot and saddle to be
sounded. The troops set out. Only two men remained with the wretched
man, watching him writhe at their feet in atrocious agony. These two
men were General Cobos and don Jaime. Don Jaime bent down to him,
raised his head, and forcing him to fix his glassy eyes on him, said in
a hollow voice--
"Parricide! Traitor to your country and your brothers, the latter
avenge themselves today. Die, like the dog you are. Your soul will go
to the fiend who awaits it, and your body, deprived of sepulture, will
be the prey of wild beasts!"
"Mercy!" the wretch cried, as he fell back. "Mercy!"
A final convulsion agitated his body, his crisped features became
hideous; he uttered a horrible yell, and stirred no more. Don Jaime
kicked him. He was dead!
"One!" the adventurer said, hoarsely, as he remounted.
"What?" asked General Cobos.
"Nothing; it is an account I am going over," he replied, with a burst
of mocking laughter.