COMPLICATIONS.
The same day on which transpired the various events which we have
related in our preceding chapters, about nine o'clock in the evening,
two persons were seated in the room of the Duke de Montone, and were
talking in French with animation. These two persons were the Duke de
Montone himself; or M. Dubois, as he wished to be called, and the
other, General Don Eusebio Moratin, governor, for the Buenos-Airean
patriots, of the town of San Miguel, and of the province Tucuman.
General Moratin was then about forty-five; he was short but stout, and
well built. His features would have been handsome, had it not been for
the expression of cold calculation in his black and deeply sunken eyes.
This officer, whose memory is justly execrated in the Argentine
provinces, and who, if Rosas had not come after him, would have
remained the most complete type of the villains which the revolutionary
foam, from the commencement of the century, threw to the surface of
society, to tyrannise over the people, and dishonour the great human
family, played at this time an important part in his country, and
enjoyed immense influence.
We shall give his history in a few words. Born in 1760, of a
distinguished family of Montevideo, this man had early manifested the
most wicked tendencies. The nomadic life of the gauchos, their savage
independence, everything about them, even their ferocity, had led away
this unruly spirit. For several years he shared their life, and then
he got together a band of contrabandists and assassins, of whom he
soon became the most active, the most cruel, and the most enterprising
member.
The ascendancy gained by this man over his companions in rapine, made
them choose him as their chief.
From that time his excesses knew no bounds, and acquired a celebrity at
once brilliant and execrable.
He ravaged without pity the Banda Oriental, Entrekios, and Paraguay,
destroying the crops, carrying away the women, murdering the men,
pillaging the churches, and throwing more than 20,000 families into
mourning.
Affairs came to such a pass that the governor of Buenos Aires was
obliged to form a corps of volunteers, specially charged to pursue
the band of Moratin; but this means was insufficient, and the Spanish
Government was obliged to treat with this brigand as between two
powers.
His own father served as mediator. The bandits were amnestied,
incorporated in the army, and their chief, besides a large sum of
money, received the commission of lieutenant, which soon was worth more
to him than that of a captain.
But at the first cry of independence raised in the Argentine provinces,
Moratin deserted, went over to the insurgents, followed by his old
companions, formed a powerful _Montonero_, resolutely attacked the
Spaniards, and defeated them in several encounters--notably, in 1811,
on _las Piedras_.
We will not dwell further on the daring deeds of this ferocious
_condottiere_, whom--notwithstanding the care we have taken to conceal
his name--those of his compatriots into whose hands this book may fall
will immediately recognise. We will merely add that, after acts of
revolting ferocity, mingled with brilliant deeds--for he was endowed
with high intelligence--at the moment when we place him on the stage,
he had the rank of general, was governor of Tucuman, and probably did
not intend merely to remain that.
The picture that the insurgent provinces presented was the most sad and
afflicting that could be imagined.
The men in power endeavoured to destroy one another, to the detriment
of public tranquillity.
The soldiers had broken all the bonds of subordination, and it was
by caprice that they agreed or refused to obey their officers, who
themselves generally assumed their rank on their own authority.
The Portuguese made war for the aggrandisement of Brazil, the
Montevideans for their own security, and the Buenos Aireans to maintain
the union proclaimed, from the commencement of hostilities between the
Spaniards.
In this strange conflict of every human passion, the last sentiments of
patriotism had been drowned in blood, and each one no longer took his
part in the contest, except according to his own avarice or ambition.
In a word, demoralisation was everywhere--good faith nowhere.
Don Eusebio Moratin, although as a Creole he had a sovereign contempt
for everything foreign, and especially European, spoke English and
French very well--not from a liking to these languages, but from
necessity, and in order to facilitate, by an apparent love of liberty,
and the support of the great European powers, the ambitious views that
he concealed in his heart.
We shall now resume our narrative at the point at which we left it;
that is to say, we shall make the reader present at the conclusion of
the conversation of of the two politicians whom we have introduced in
commencing this chapter.
The general, who had for some minutes been striding about the room,
turned suddenly, and facing the duke--
"Bah! Bah!" said he, in a sharp voice, throwing back his head, and
smacking his fingers--a gesture which was habitual to him--"I repeat,
Monsieur le Duc, that your Zeno Cabral, good soldier as he may be, is
but an arrant simpleton."
"Allow me, general--" objected the Frenchman.
"Come," he resumed, with violence, "be a politician! One must be mad
to think so. A Montonero chief, who thinks of falling in love--of
becoming sentimental! Is it thus that he acts? Eh! _Mon Dieu!_ If the
girl pleases him, let him take her! That's as simple as 'good day,' and
does not require much diplomacy. I have experience in these matters
myself. Every woman wishes to be a little forced--that's a preliminary.
Instead of that he puts on sorrowful airs, rolls his eyes, sighs, and
almost goes the length of composing madrigals. Upon my word, it would
be enough to make one burst out into laughter, if it did not make one
shrug his shoulders with pity. Mother and daughter only mock him, and
they are right. He is a thorough simpleton. You will see that they will
finish by slipping through his fingers, like two snakes as they are,
and they will do it well! I shall heartily rejoice at such a splendid
result of a platonic attachment, seasoned with hereditary vengeance. Do
not speak to me any more of this man; there is nothing to be done with
him."
The duke had listened to this impassioned outburst with coolness, which
was perpetually stereotyped on his impassable countenance.
When the general had finished, he looked at him for a time, with a
slightly mocking air, and then taking up the conversation--
"All that is very well, general," said he, "but this is, after all,
only your individual opinion, is it not?"
"Certainly," said Don Eusebio.
"You would be very little pleased, I imagine,", resumed he, smiling,
"if the words you have just muttered were repeated to Don Zeno Cabral."
A flash of ferocity darted from the eye of the general; but immediately
recovering himself--
"I admit," said he, "that I should be annoyed at it."
"Then," resumed the duke, "of what use is it to say things which one
day or other you might regret. With me it is of no consequence; I know
too well by what slight threads the deepest political combinations are
often held, ever to abuse confidence; but in a hasty moment you might
permit yourself to speak thus before a third party, of whom you could
not be so sure as you are of me; and then the consequences might be
serious."
"You are right, my dear duke," said the general, laughing; "consider
that I have said nothing."
"That is right, general--especially as at this moment you have the most
pressing need of Don Zeno Cabral and his squadron."
"That is true; unhappily, I cannot do without him."
"A charming way of inspiring his confidence, to treat him as a
simpleton!"
"Oh, forget that, and let us come, if you please, to business. Don Zeno
will not be long before he comes here. I should like that everything
was decided upon between us before he comes."
The Frenchman looked at the clock.
"We have still twenty minutes," said he; "that is more than is
necessary to decide upon everything. Now, what is your project?"
"To have me declared president of the republic!" he exclaimed, with
violence.
"I know it, but that is not of what I am speaking."
"Of what are you speaking, then?"
"Of the means you intend to employ to reach the end you are ambitious
to arrive at."
"Ah, that is just where the shoe pinches. I do not know what to do; we
are now wading in such a muddy pool--"
"That's an additional consideration," interrupted the duke; "the best
fish are always found in troubled water."
"To say that to me!" said the general, with a burst of laughter; "I
have never fished in any other but troubled water."
"Well, if you have succeeded up to the present time, you must continue."
"I should like to do so, but how?"
The duke appeared to reflect seriously for some minutes, while the
general looked at him anxiously.
"See how unjust you are, my dear general," at last resumed the duke;
"it is just this love of Don Zeno for the daughter of the Marchioness
de Castelmelhor--a love that you have spoken of so bitterly--that will
furnish you with those means you have been unsuccessfully seeking."
"I do not understand the least in the world what relation there can be
between--"
"Patience!" interrupted the diplomatist. "What do you wish first?--the
immediate removal of Don Zeno Cabral, who, loved and respected by all
as he is, resume his presence, influence the votes of the deputies
uttered witted at this moment in the town to proclaim, independence,
and perhaps elect a president; is it not that?"
"Just so; but Don Zeno will not consent, under any pretence, to go
away."
The diplomatist slightly sneered, casting a look of pity on his
companion.
"General," said he, "have you ever been in love in your life?"
"I!" cried Don Eusebio, with a start of surprise. "Ah, you are jesting
with me, my dear duke."
"Not the least in the world," answered he, calmly.
"To the devil with such a silly question, when we are dealing with a
serious affair!"
"Not so silly as you suppose, general. I am not at all wandering from
our business. So I beg you do me the pleasure of answering me plainly.
Have you, or have you not, been in love?"
"Since you insist on it--well, I have never been what you call in love;
is that clear?"
"Perfectly; well, that's just the difference between you and Don Zeno
Cabral, that he is in love."
"_Pardieu!_ The good and important news that you tell me, my dear
duke!--after an hour, I am waiting for it."
"Agreed; but wait the conclusion."
"Let us have the conclusion, then."
"Here it is. It has been said, a century ago, by a fabulist of our
nation, in a charming way, in a fable that I will someday read to you--"
"But the conclusion!" cried the general, stamping with impatience.
"Hum! How lively you are, my dear general," replied the duke,
imperturbably, amused by the exasperation of his companion. "Listen;
it is not long, but it is in verse. Calm yourself; there are but two
lines:"
"'Amour, amour! Quand tu nous tiens,
On peut bien dire: Adieu, prudence.'"[1]
"So you understand?"
"Pretty well," answered the general, who really did not understand at
all, but who did not like to confess it; "however, I do not see--"
"It is, however, very simple, my dear general; it is just by his love
that we hold him."
"That is to say--"
"That is to say, that in knowing how to excite this love, we shall
succeed in the result we wish to obtain."
"For once, I do not understand you, Monsieur le Duc; this love has no
need of being excited, I should think."
"Not love, perhaps," answered the Frenchman, laughing; "but jealousy,
at all events; as to that, let me act; I have taken it into my head
that you shall succeed, and it shall be so."
"I thank you, my dear duke, for the aid you are pleased to give me;
but would it not be well that you should make me acquainted with your
projects, so that I can, in case of need, come to your assistance;
whereas, if I remain in ignorance, as at present, perhaps it will
happen that, without knowing it, I shall run contrary to you."
"You are right, general; moreover, I have no reason to hide from you
the means I intend to employ, since it is you alone that all this
concerns."
"Just so; I shall, then, be much obliged to you to explain, my dear
duke."
"Very well."
At that moment the door was opened wide, and a servant, dressed in a
splendid livery, announced--
"His Excellency General Don Zeno Cabral."
The two men exchanged a rapid look of intelligence, and rose to salute
the general.
"I am disturbing you, gentlemen?" said the latter, as he entered.
"Not the least in the world, Señor Don Zeno," replied the Frenchman;
"on the contrary, we have been waiting for you with the greatest
impatience."
"Pardon me for coming a few minutes earlier than the time you deigned
to mention for our interview, Monsieur le Duc; but as I knew I should
find his Excellency the governor here, I hastened to come, having an
important communication to make to him."
"Then you are doubly welcome, dear general," answered Don Eusebio.
The servant brought forward a chair, and withdrew. The conversation,
begun in French on account of the difficulty that the duke felt in
expressing himself in Spanish, was continued in the same language,
which--we will say, in a parenthesis--Don Zeno spoke with remarkable
purity.
"You were saying, then, dear Don Zeno," pursued Don Eusebio, when they
were seated, "that you have an important communication to make to me?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Gouverneur."
"Then be so good, I beg you, as to explain yourself freely. The duke
knows all our secrets; moreover, it is not fair to our friends that we
should make what interests us a mystery to them."
"Here is the affair in a few words," answered Don Zeno Cabral, with a
bow. "The two prisoners, who were to have been tried tomorrow as spies
by the council of war--Don Louis Ortego and the Count de Mendoza--that
I myself arrested at the Cabildo on the night of the _fête_--"
"Well?" interrupted General Moratin.
"Well, they have escaped."
"Escaped!" cried the governor, with surprise.
"This very day, at sunrise, disguised as Franciscan monks. Accomplices
held their horses, all prepared, at the gates of the town."
"Oh! Oh! That seems to me decided treason!" cried the general, knitting
his eyebrows "I will--"
"Do nothing," interrupted Don Zeno; "any step would now be useless;
they have fourteen hours in advance, and people travel quickly when it
is to save their lives."
"When did you hear of this escape, of which no one has informed me?"
"You were hunting, general."
"That is true; I am to blame."
"By no means, for in your absence I took upon myself to give orders."
"I thank you, dear Don Zeno."
"In leaving the house of the Marchioness de Castelmelhor, where I had
gone this morning, one of your aides-de-camp, general, who was looking
for you, and wished to mount horse to join you, gave me the news of
this flight; I immediately dispatched detachments in all directions in
pursuit of the fugitives."
"Very good."
"These detachments have returned, except one, without learning any news
of the prisoners."
"This is a serious affair, and which cannot but further complicate the
difficult position in which we find ourselves just now."
"I did not stop there, Monsieur le Gouverneur," answered Don Zeno;
"I went to the prison to ask the director about the particulars of
the escape; moreover, I dispersed through the town some intelligent
persons, whom I charged to converse about the matter, and to report to
me what they heard."
"You could not have been more prudent or better advised, my dear Don
Zeno; I congratulate you with all my heart."
"You give too much importance to so simple a thing."
"And what have you learnt?"
"Upon my word," replied Don Zeno, half turning towards the French
diplomatist, "I have learnt one thing that will much astonish you,
Monsieur le Duc, and that I do not yet dare to believe."
"What?" said the duke, smiling; "Have I, without knowing it, aided the
flight of your prisoners?"
"Well," said Don Zeno, laughing, "it is something of that sort."
"Ah! Upon my word!" cried the duke; "You are going to explain, are you
not, general?"
"I am quite willing, Monsieur le Duc; but, reassure yourself; you are
not concerned in all this--only one of your friends."
"One of _my_ friends! But I am a foreigner; there is no one except you
that I know in the town, where I have come, for the first time, only a
few days ago."
"Just so," said Don Zeno, laughing; "it is one of your compatriots."
"One of my compatriots!"
"Yes, a certain Emile Gagnepain. It would appear that he
has--understand that I am only the echo of an _on dit_, general--"
"Continue--he has--"
"He has entertained relations with the prisoners, whom he has known for
a long time; and, in a word, that he has finished by enabling them to
escape."
A slight and scarcely perceptible smile played on the thin lips of the
diplomatist at this revelation; but immediately regaining his coolness--
"As to that, gentlemen," answered he, "I can immediately prove to you
the falsity of this accusation brought against my unhappy compatriot."
"I should like nothing better, for my part," said Don Zeno.
"How will you do that?" demanded Don Eusebio.
"You shall see; my compatriot, or rather, my friend, lives in this very
house; I will have him called."
"Very good," observed the governor; "by his answers we shall soon know
what he is."
"Observe, Monsieur le Duc, that I affirm nothing," pursued Don
Zeno--"that I in no way attack the honour of this _caballero_."
"It is of no consequence, gentlemen," cried the duke, with an
expression of indignation; "if he were really guilty--which I declare
impossible--I should be the first to abandon him to your justice."
The two men bowed without answering. The duke struck a bell.
A servant appeared.
"Inform Don Emile," said the duke, "that I wish to speak to him
immediately."
"Señor Don Emile is not in his apartment, your lordship," answered the
servant, bowing respectfully.
"Ah!" said the diplomatist, with astonishment; "Still out at this hour!
Well, when he returns--for he cannot be long--beg him to come here."
The servant bowed without moving.
"Have you not understood me?" resumed the diplomatist; "Why do you not
withdraw?"
"Your lordship," respectfully answered the servant, "Don Emile will not
return."
"Don Emile will not return! What do you know about it?"
"He has this morning had all his baggage taken away by a man, who said
that he was going immediately to leave the town."
The duke made a sign for the servant to withdraw.
"This is strange!" murmured he, when the door had closed upon the
valet; "What does this departure mean?"
The two Creoles looked at each other with astonishment.
"No," pursued the duke, decidedly, "I cannot yet believe him guilty;
there is evidently something in this affair of which we are ignorant."
The door at this moment again opened.
"Señor Captain Don Sylvio Quiroga," announced the servant.
"Let him come in," said Don Zeno.
And turning towards the duke--
"Pardon me, sir; Captain Quiroga is the last officer dispatched by me
in pursuit of the fugitives. He is an old traveller. I am much deceived
if he does not bring us news."
"He will be very welcome, then," said Don Eusebio.
"Yes, we will welcome him," added the duke, "for I hope that the
information which he will give us will dissipate the doubts which have
been raised as to the honour of my unfortunate countryman."
"God grant it!" said Don Zeno.
Captain Don Sylvio Quiroga appeared. After having respectfully bowed to
the persons who were in the room, he drew himself up, and waited till
they should address him.
"Well!" asked Don Zeno, "Have you found any trace of the fugitives,
captain?"
"I have, general," he answered.
"Have you brought them back?"
"No."
"You have not overtaken them?"
"Yes, general."
"Then, how is it that you return without these two men?"
"First, they are no longer two, general; it appears that they have
secured a companion on their journey. I saw three of them myself."
There was a momentary silence, during which the Frenchman and the two
Creoles exchanged looks.
"It is little matter whether they are two or three," resumed Don Zeno.
"How is it, captain, that having overtaken them, you allowed them to
escape?"
"General, here is the fact in a few words. At the moment when I was
preparing to take them by the collar--for I was scarcely more than a
pistol shot from them--two or three hundred horsemen unawares darted
out of a little wood, and charged us with fury. As I had with me
only eight men, I thought it prudent not to wait the attack of these
enemies, that I was far from expecting so near me, and I immediately
retreated with my companions."
"Oh! Oh! What do you say?" cried Don Zeno, "You were afraid perhaps,
captain?"
"Upon my word, yes, general; I was afraid, and very much so," frankly
answered the officer, "especially when I saw with what sort of people I
had to do."
"Were they, then, so terrible?"
"I returned immediately, at all speed, to inform you, general; for, as
I was escaping, I had plenty of time to thoroughly observe them."
"And they are?" demanded the governor, impatiently.
"They are Pincheyras, your Excellency," coolly answered the old soldier.
This revelation came like a thunderbolt on those to whom he spoke. Don
Zeno especially, and Don Eusebio appeared extraordinarily agitated.
"Pincheyras!" repeated they.
"Yes, and we shall soon know what they want. I have placed two men in
ambush on their route, with orders to watch their movements."
"Well," cried the governor, rising quickly, "we cannot take too many
precautions with such demons. Excuse me, Monsieur le Duc, for quitting
you so abruptly; but the news brought by this brave officer is of the
utmost importance. I must, without delay, prepare for the safety of the
town. Tomorrow, if you will permit me, we will resume this interview."
"When you please, gentlemen," answered the diplomatist; "you know that
I am at your orders."
"A thousands thanks--tomorrow then. Are you coming with me, Señor
Cabral?"
"Certainly, I am with you," answered the latter. "We cannot employ too
much prudence in so grave a position."
The two generals immediately took leave of the duke, and went out,
followed by the captain.
When the door was closed, and the old diplomatist found himself alone,
he rubbed his hands, and darting an ironical look towards the place
where his visitors had disappeared--
"I think," murmured he, with a smile of raillery, "there is already
a pretty trap prepared! Eh! Eh! My dear friend Emile will do well if
he escape. I like him too much not to make his fortune, in spite of
himself. I at least owe him that for the service he has rendered me."
[1] O love, love, when thou takest possession of us, we may well say,
Prudence, adieu!