"Is there anything extraordinary In that? Have I not slept all the

night?"

"That is true. Why do they not raise the camp?"

"I did not wish to give the order for it before speaking with you."

"Ah! very well; speak, Gueyma; I am listening."

"Have you forgotten what We said yesterday evening?"

"We said many things, my friend; it is possible that amongst the number

I have forgotten some; recall them to me, I beg."

"We agreed to assemble the council this morning."

"True; have you done it?"

"No, not yet; you were asleep, my friend; I did not wish to take upon

myself the order for this convocation for fear of displeasing you."

"You are good and generous, Gueyma," answered the old man, after a

pause for reflection; "I recognise your habitual delicacy. Do me a

pleasure."

"What, my friend?"

"Do not convoke the council yet."

The young chief fixed on him an inquiring look.

"Yes," continued the Cougar, "what I say astonishes you, I can well

understand; but we must have a serious conversation before this

convocation."

"A conversation?"

"Yes; I have to communicate to you matters of the highest importance,

which, no doubt, will render the calling of this assembly needless; be

patient; grant me till the halt for the morning meal--that is not too

much to exact, I think?"

"You are my friend and my father, Cougar; what you say is a law to me;

I will wait."

"Thank you, Gueyma, thank you; now nothing prevents you from giving the

order for the raising of the camp."

"That is what I will do, immediately."

"Ah! Recommend the greatest vigilance to the warriors; the enemy is

near."

"You discovered his track during your wandering last night?"

"Yes, my friend; I think you will do well also to send scouts in

advance in order to avoid a surprise."

"Agreed," answered the young chief, withdrawing.

One hour later the Guaycurus warriors were on the march, in the

direction of the Cordilleras, of which the mountain, at the foot of

which they had camped during the night, was but one of the advanced and

lesser chain.

[1] Double canvas pockets, which are carried behind the saddle.

CHAPTER IV.

THE TWO CHIEFS.

By degrees, as the Guaycurus warriors advanced towards the mountains,

the landscape assumed a more severe and a more picturesque aspect.

The road, or rather the path followed by the troops mounted by an

almost imperceptible slope, by risings of earth which serve, so to

speak, as gigantic steps to the first chain of the Cordilleras.

The forests became more dense, the trees were larger and more

closely packed to each other. Hidden streams might have been heard

murmuring--torrents which precipitate themselves from the height of the

mountains, and, uniting, form these rivers, which at some leagues in

the plain acquire great importance, and are often large as arms of the

sea.

Large flights of vultures wheeled slowly, high in the air, over the

horsemen, uttering their harsh and discordant cries.

Gueyma had not neglected any precautions that the Cougar had

recommended him; scouts had been dispatched in advance in order to

search the woods, and to discover, if possible, the tracks that they

suspected would not fail them in these regions.

Other Indians had quitted their horses, and, right and left, on the

flanks of the troop, they searched the forests, whose mysterious depths

could well conceal an ambuscade.

The Guaycurus advanced in a long and close column--thoughtful and

silent--the eye on the watch and the hand on their arms, ready to make

use of them at the first signal.

The two chiefs marched in front, about twenty paces from their

companions.

When they were in the middle of a thick forest, the immense masses of

verdure in which not only deprived them of a view of the sky, but also

intercepted the burning rays of the sun; and when the horsemen, whose

horses were passing through a long and thick grass, filed through the

trees silently as a legion of phantoms, the Cougar placed his hand on

the arm of his companion, and making use of the Castilian dialect--

"Let us speak Spanish," said he; "I do not wish any longer to delay

giving you that information I have promised you. If we have to be

attacked, it will only be in the neighbourhood of such an unlucky

place as that in which we now find ourselves; it is one of the best

chosen for an ambuscade. I am much deceived if we shall not soon hear

resounding under these arches of foliage the war cry of our enemies. It

is time, then that I explained myself clearly to you, for perhaps it

will be too late when we arrive at the encampment. Listen to me, then,

attentively, and whatever you hear me say, my dear Gueyma, concentrate

in yourself your emotions, and do not exhibit in your features either

anger, joy, or astonishment."

"Speak, Cougar; I will conform to your advice."

"The time has not yet come," pursued the old man, "to reveal to you

the whole truth. Let it suffice, at present, to know that, brought up

among the whites, whose faith and customs I had adopted, and for whom

I professed, and profess still, the most sincere devotion, it is not

for you, Gueyma--for you whose birth I remember, and whom I love as

a son--that I have consented to abandon the numberless enjoyments of

civilised life, to resume the life--precarious and full of dangers and

privations--of a nomadic Indian. I had taken an oath of vengeance and

devotion. This oath I believe, I have religiously kept. The vengeance,

long time prepared by me in secret, will be, I am convinced, so much

the more terrible as it, will have been slow to strike the guilty. In

the great act that I meditate, Gueyma, you will aid me, for they are

your interests alone that I have constantly defended in all I have

done, and it is you, more than I, who are interested in the success of

what I wish still to do."

"What you tell me," answered the young chief, with emotion, "my heart

has had a presentiment of, and I have almost guessed. For a long time

I have known and appreciated, as I ought, the faithful and almost

boundless friendship which you have always manifested for me. You will,

therefore, render me this justice Cougar, that I have always conformed

to your advice, often severe, and have allowed myself to be blindly

guided by your counsels, that I have scarcely ever understood."

"It is true, my boy, you have acted thus; but when we talk between

ourselves, call me Diogo. This is the name they formerly gave me when I

was among the whites, and it recalls to me ineffaceable memories of joy

and of grief."

"Well, my friend, as you wish it, I will call you so between ourselves,

till you permit me, or till circumstances permit me to resume boldly in

the face of all a name which I am sure you have honoured all the time

you have borne it."

"Yes, yes," answered the old man, with complaisance, "there was a time

when the name of Diogo had a certain celebrity, but who remembers it

now?"

"Resume, I beg, what you commenced to tell me, and do not dwell any

more on painful memories."

"You are right, Gueyma; let me forget them for a time, and return to

the affair that I am going to confide to you. What I have said has

no other design than that of proving to you that, if often I have

apparently arrogated to myself the right of counselling you, or of

wishing you to modify your plans, this right was acquired by long

services and a devotion under all circumstances to yourself."

"I have never had, my friend, the thought--even for a moment--of

discussing your acts or counteracting your projects. I have, on

the contrary, always studied to bend my convictions to your long

experience."

"I am pleased to render you this justice, my friend; but if I insist

so much on this subject, it is that the circumstances in which we are

now placed demand that you have entire confidence in me. In a word,

here are the facts: the Brazilians, believing they no longer want us,

now that they have seized upon the greater part of the towns of the

Banda Oriental--thanks to the civil war which divides the Spaniards,

and obliges them to fight against each other rather than against the

common enemy--would not be sorry to be free of us, and to allow us

to be crushed by superior forces. Forgetting the services that, from

the commencement of the war, we have rendered them, the Brazilians,

not only in a cowardly way abandon us, but, not content with that,

they wish to deliver us to the enemy, in the hope that, succumbing,

notwithstanding our courage under the weight of superior force, we

shall be all massacred."

"I feared this treason," answered Gueyma, with pensive air, sadly

shaking his head. "You remember my friend, that I was opposed to the

conclusion of the treaty."

"Yes, I even remember that it was I who induced you to conclude it, and

that from consideration to me alone you consented to throw down your

_quipo_ in acceptance in the council. Well, my friend, from that moment

I foresaw this treason; I will say now--I hoped it."

The young chief turned sharply to his companion, looking at him with

the most lively surprise:

"I begged you," resumed the old man, without in any way manifesting

emotion, "not to show on your countenance any sentiments which, during

our conversation, might agitate your heart. Collect yourself, then, my

friend, in order to avoid awakening the suspicions of our warriors, and

allow me to continue."

"I am listening to you; but what you say to me is so extraordinary--"

"That you do not understand me--is that it? But, patience; you will

soon have the explanation of this mystery, especially as I shall be

able to give you this explanation without perilling the success of the

projects that I meditate."

"All this appears to me so strange," said Gueyma, "that my reason

almost refuses to comprehend it."

The Cougar smiled silently, and after having cast an inquiring look

around him, he unaffectedly approached his companion, and, leaning

towards his ear--

"Do you like the whites?" he asked.

"No," decisively answered the chief; "but I do not entertain any hatred

towards them. It is true," added he, with an ill-concealed bitterness,

"that I am too young yet to have had to suffer from their tyranny."

"Just so; however, my friend, if it is allowable for me to boast before

you of my experience, let me tell you that every sentiment is unjust

when it is exclusive; that the life you have led, the examples you have

had under your eyes, indispose you towards the company of the whites. I

understand this, and do not reproach you with it; but you should not,

even if you should have had to complain of one or of several of them,

render them all responsible for the crime of some, and include them in

the same hatred. Amongst the whites there are some good. I even intend

soon to make you acquainted with one of them."

"Me!" cried the young man.

"You, certainly; and why not, if it conduce to the success of our

plans?"

"My friend, you speak in a way that is entirely incomprehensible to me;

my mind seeks vainly to follow you, and to grasp your meaning in the

midst of the inextricable network in which you are pleased to entangle

it. Be plain with me, and do not let me thus fatigue myself to no

purpose in trying to guess your meaning."

"Well, in a few words, here is what has happened: The Brazilian

general with whom we treated had but one motive in entering into

relations with us--to remove us, for reasons that he thinks are known

to himself alone, but which I know as well as he does from our hunting

territories, and to remove us in such a way as we should never return

to them again."

"But it appears to me that if such were his design he has attained it

to a certain extent."

"Perhaps he has realised the half of his plan, but the other half will

not succeed so easily. This man is not only the enemy of our tribe, but

he is your most implacable enemy, and his most anxious desire is to

make you succumb to him."

"Me! But he does not know me, my friend."

"You think so, dear Gueyma; but I am in a better position than you to

judge the matter; believe then, the truth of my words."

"It is sufficient; I am happy to know what you tell me."

"Why so?"

"Because the first time that chance brings me in his presence I shall

make no scruple to cleave his head open."

"Be careful not to do that, my friend!" cried the Cougar, with a start

of fear. "If--which I hope will not happen--you should find yourself

face to face with him, it will be necessary for you to feign--I will

not say friendship--but at least the most complete indifference to

him. Remember this advice, and make use of it if occasion require.

Vengeance has been prepared for him long ago, and will only succeed

when a good opportunity offers. What I tell you appears to you, I know,

incomprehensible; but soon, I hope, I shall be able to explain myself

more clearly, and then you will acknowledge the truth of my words and

how far I have been right in recommending prudence. I do not wish to

insist anymore on this point; we shall not be long before we reach

the spot assigned for the encampment, and, I have to speak to you of

another person towards whom I shall be happy to see you process the

most frank and amicable sentiments."

"And who is this person, if you please, my friend? Does he belong to

our race, or is he a white?"

"I speak of a white, my dear Gueyma, and, moreover, of a white who, up

to the present time, you have thought one of our deadliest enemies; in

a word, I mean the chief, whom the Spaniards call Zeno Cabral."

"I admire the prudence which you manifested at the commencement of this

conversation, in recommending me not to allow myself to express any

mark of surprise, and to preserve an impassive countenance."

"Yes, you sneer," answered the Cougar, with a slight smile, "and

apparently you are right; however, before long--as always happens when

people have not been in a position to thoroughly examine facts--events

will show you are wrong."

"Upon my word I avow to you, my friend, in all sincerity, that I

ardently desire--and you can believe me, notwithstanding all the injury

this chief has done us since the commencement of our expedition--I

feel myself attracted towards him by a feeling that I cannot analyse,

and which--in spite of the wish I have often had to do so--has always

prevented me from hating him."

"Do you speak truth? Do you really feel this instinctive attraction

towards this man?"

"I assure you it is so; I feel myself constrained to love him; and if

you proved to me ever so little that he ought to be so, I assure you

that I shall not feel any displeasure in following your injunction."

"Love him then, my friend; follow the impulse of your heart; it will

not deceive you. This man is indeed, really worth your friendship, and

you will soon have the proof of it."

"How so?"

"In the most simple way. I will soon present you to each other."

"You will make me acquainted with Zeno Cabral?"

"Yes."

"That is what astonishes me. Why, he will not dare to come into our

camp!"

"In case of need, at my call, he would not hesitate to do so; but it is

not in this way that we must act. He will not come into our camp; we,

on the contrary, will go to find him."

"We?"

"Certainly."

"Oh! Oh! Have you well reflected, my friend, on the consequences of

such a proceeding? If this man should spread a net for us?"

"We have nothing of that sort to fear from him."

Gueyma lowered his head with a pensive air. For a long time the two

chiefs continued thus to ride side by side without exchanging a word,

absorbed each by his own thoughts. At last the young man looked up and

said:

"We shall soon be at the spot where we have decided to camp till the

hottest part of the day passes. Have you nothing more to say to me?"

"Nothing at present, my friend. We shall soon resume this conversation;

now we must instal our warriors in a secure position, for, perhaps, we

shall remain in this encampment longer than you suppose."

"What! Shall we not set out again in a few hours?"

"It is scarcely probable, but for that matter you will decide for

yourself when the time has come."

And as if he wished to prevent the young chief asking him a question

that he probably would not have cared to answer, the Cougar checked his

bridle, and stopping his horse, allowed his companion to pass him.

Meanwhile, the pathway broadened more and more, the forest became less

dense, and, after having turned a corner, the Indians came out on to

a kind of rather large esplanade, entirely denuded of trees, although

covered with a tall and coarse grass. This esplanade formed what in

Mexico they call a _voladero_, that is to say, that from this side the

base of the mountain--which the Guaycurus had traversed almost without

perceiving it, by a gentle declivity, worn away by the streams, or by

an inundation produced by one of those convulsions so frequent in this

country--formed beneath the esplanade an enormous cavity, which gave

it the appearance of a gigantic balcony, and rendered it on this side

almost impossible to attack.

On the opposite side, the flanks of the mountain were escarped in

abrupt blocks of rock, on the edge of which the vicuñas and the lamas

alone would have been able to place their delicate feet without fear of

falling.

The only accessible points were those by which the esplanade was

reached--that is to say, the path itself--a point most easy to defend

by means of some trunks of trees thrown across it.

Gueyma could not retain a smile of satisfaction at the sight of this

natural fortress.

"What a misfortune that we must in a few hours abandon so advantageous

a position!" murmured he.

The Cougar smiled without answering, and proceeded to organise the

camp. Some warriors went to seek the wood necessary for the fires,

others felled several trees, leaving all the branches on, and which

thus formed an almost impregnable entrenchment.

The horses were unsaddled and set at liberty, so that they could get at

the green grass, which they began to eat heartily.

The fires lighted, they prepared the morning meal, and the Guaycurus

warriors soon found themselves installed on the esplanade in as firm

a position as if they intended to make a long stay, instead of only

stopping there in passing.

When the sentinels were stationed, the meal was finished, and the

warriors were stretched here and there to repose--according to the

invariable custom of Indians, who do not think that, unless in

exceptional circumstances, they should remain awake when they can

sleep--the Cougar approached Gueyma.

"You feel fatigued?" he asked, with a significant gesture.

"Not at all," answered he; "but why this question?"

"Simply because I intend to go out a little on discovery, to assure

myself that the country is clear--that we have no ambuscade to fear

on our march; and that if you like to accompany me while our warriors

repose, we will go together."

"I should like nothing better," answered Gueyma, who felt that the

excursion was but a pretext to deceive the warriors, and to account for

their own departure.

"If it is to be so," pursued the Cougar, "let us set out without

waiting any longer; we have not a moment to lose."

The young man immediately rose and took his gun.

"We go on foot?" said he.

"Certainly, our horses would embarrass us; they would only retard our

progress, which, moreover, ought to be secret."

"Let us go then."

The two chiefs immediately quitted the camp by the point opposite to

that by which they had arrived, but not without having recommended an

older chief to replace them during their absence, and to watch with the

greatest vigilance over the common safety.

They were not long in disappearing in the midst of the thick shrubbery

and trees by which the track was bordered on either side.

They walked at a good pace, contenting themselves by at times casting

an enquiring look around them, without taking any other precaution to

conceal their presence.

Gueyma silently followed the Cougar, inwardly asking himself what was

the design of this mysterious excursion.

As to the old man, he advanced without any hesitation, proceeding

through this labyrinth of verdure with a certainty which showed a

perfect knowledge of the place, and previously determined plan, for

the two chiefs had left the track, and without following any path they

walked straight on, surmounting the obstacles which from time to time

came in their way, without turning to right or left.

In about half an hour they reached the dry bed of a torrent, which

formed a large hollow in the mountain, and clinging with hands and

feet, with that skill which characterises the Indians, to the rugged

stones, the tufts of grass, and the branches of shrubbery, they began

to descend rapidly by a rather rude declivity, and which, to any other

men, would have presented great difficulty, and even danger.

About halfway down, the Cougar stepped on a fragment of rock, before a

natural excavation, whose gaping mouth opened just before him.

After looking in all directions, the old man made a sign to his

companion to place himself near him, and pointing to the cavern:

"It is there we are going," said he, in a low voice.

"Ah!" answered the young man, with as smiling an air as he could

affect, although his curiosity was much excited; "If that is the case,

let us not stop here any longer; let us enter."

"One moment," pursued the Cougar, "let us first assure ourselves that

he has arrived."

"Arrived! Who?" asked the young man.

"He whom we wish to see, probably," said the old man.

"Ah! Very well; only it is you, not I, who wish to see the person of

whom you speak."

"Let us not play upon words, my friend; it is as important to you as to

me, believe me, that this interview takes place."

"You know that I allow myself to be entirely guided by you; I think I

have even given proof of exemplary docility. After this conversation

which is about to take place, I shall probably be in a better position

to know of what importance to me is this proceeding, which, I avow,

I only enter upon with misgiving; although, I repeat, I feel myself

attracted towards this man."

The Cougar opened his lips as though he was about to answer, but

immediately changing his mind, he turned with an abrupt movement, and,

after having again explored the locality by looking around him, he

imitated twice the cry of the condor.

Almost immediately a similar cry came from the cavern.

The old man quickly approached the entrance, and slightly leaning

forward, as he cocked his gun to be ready for any emergency:

"We have walked a long time, we are fatigued," said he, as if he

addressed his companion; "let us rest here a few minutes; this solitary

place appears to me to be safe."

"You will be received there by good friends," immediately replied a

voice from the interior of the cavern.

The sound of steps was heard, and a man appeared.

The newcomer, clothed in the picturesque costume of the Banda Oriental,

was no other than Zeno Cabral.

Gueyma remarked, with a surprise which he did not attempt to conceal,

that the chief of the Montonero had no arms, at least, apparently.

"Welcome," said he, bowing with graceful courtesy to the two Indian

chiefs; "I have waited for you some time, I am happy to see you."

The Guaycurus captains bowed silently, and followed him, without

hesitation, into the cavern.

CHAPTER V.

THE ROYAL ARMY.

We will abandon for some time the Guaycurus chiefs, to transport

ourselves twenty leagues off, in the very heart of the Cordilleras,

where were certain personages which have much to do with this

narrative, and where, two or three days before that we have reached,

events had passed which we must relate.

The civil war, in destroying the old hierarchy, established by the

Castilians in their colonies, and in overturning ranks and castes, had

brought to the surface of Hispano-American society certain persons very

interesting to study, and amongst whom the Pincheyras undoubtedly held

the most prominent place.

Let us state who were these Pincheyras, whose name has already several

times been mentioned, and from whence came that dark and mysterious

celebrity, which, even now, after so many years, surrounds their name

with so much horror.

Pincheyra began, like the greater part of the partisans of this

epoch--that is to say, that at first he was a bandit. Born at San

Carlos, in the centre of that province of Manli whose inhabitants never

bowed to the yoke of the Incas, and only submitted to that of the

Spaniards, Don Pablo Pincheyra was an Indian from head to foot; the

blood of the Araucans flowed almost unmixed in his veins; so that when

he was outlawed, and constrained to seek a refuge among the Indians,

the latter responded with alacrity to his first call, and came joyfully

around him, to form the nucleus; of that redoubtable squadron which

afterwards was to be called the royal army.

Pincheyra had three brothers. These men, who had gained but a scanty

subsistence in wielding by turns the lasso and the hatchet--that is to

say, in working on the farms and as woodcutters--seized the opportunity

which their elder brother offered them, and attached themselves to him,

in company with all the scapegraces it was possible to recruit.

Thus, the Pincheyras, as they were called, were not long in becoming

the terror of the country that they had been pleased to choose as the

theatre of their exploits.

When they had pillaged the great _chacras_, and put the hamlets to

ransom, they took refuge in the desert, and here they braved with

impunity the powerful rage of their enemies.

In fact, in these far-off regions, Justice, too weak, cannot make

herself respected, and her agents, notwithstanding their good will,

were obliged to remain spectators of the depredations daily committed

by the bandits.

Don Pablo Pincheyra was far from being an ordinary man. Nature had been

bountiful to him. To the courage of a lion he added a rare sagacity, a

keenness of perception which was uncommon, united to manners full of

nobility and affability.

Thus, events aiding, the bold chief of the bandits, far from being

disquieted by his incessant acts of brigandage, knew how to make

himself acceptable, not only as a partisan, but also to be sought after

and solicited by those whose interest it had so long been to crush him,

but who now found themselves obliged to claim his aid.

Don Pablo did not allow himself to be dazzled by this new caprice of

fortune; he found himself at once equal to the part which chance called

on him to play, and he boldly declared for Spain against the revolution.

His troop, considerably augmented by the deserters and volunteers who

came to range themselves under his banner, was by degrees disciplined,

thanks to some European officers which Don Pablo had succeeded in

obtaining, and the old squadron of bandits was metamorphosed almost

immediately into a regular troop--nearly an army--since it numbered in

infantry and cavalry more than 1,500 combatants, a considerable number

at that time in these sparsely populated countries.

When he considered that the royal army, as he emphatically called

it, was in a position to take the field, Don Pablo Pincheyra boldly

took the offensive, and commenced hostilities against the insurgents,

falling upon them suddenly, and defeating them in several encounters.

The Pincheyras knew the most secret hiding places in the Cordilleras.

Their expeditions over, they withdrew into these retreats, so much the

more inaccessible, as they were defended not only by desolate solitude,

but by the terror which these redoubtable partisans inspired. They

cared for nothing, and spared neither children, women, nor old men,

dragging them after them, attached by the wrists to the tails of their

horses.

Another partisan chief--a brave and honest Castilian officer--also

fought for the defence of the losing cause of Spain. He was named

Zinoxain.

Thus, at the time when South America, from Mexico to the frontiers of

Patagonia, rose at once against the odious yoke of Spain, and boldly

proclaimed its independence, two isolated men, without any other

_prestige_ than their indomitable energy, sustained only by Indian

bravos, and adventurers of all nations, heroically struggled against

the current which was carrying them away, and endeavoured to place the

colonies again under the domination of Castile.

Notwithstanding the misdeeds of these men--the Pincheyras especially,

whose savage cruelty often led them into unjustifiable acts of

barbarism--there was, nevertheless, something really grand in this

determination not to abandon the fortune of their old masters, and to

perish rather than betray their cause. Accordingly, even now, after

so many years, their names in these countries are surrounded with a

kind of halo of glory, and they have become to the mass of the people

legendary beings, whose incredible exploits are related with respectful

fear, as, after the hard labours of day, they peacefully talk round

the watch fire on the Pampas, drinking their _maté_, and smoking their

cigarettes.

At about twenty leagues from the spot where the Guaycurus had stopped

till the hottest part of the day had passed--in the centre of a vast

valley, crowned on all sides by the snowy and inaccessible peaks of the

Cordillera--Don Pablo Pincheyra had established his camp.

This camp, placed near the source of two rivers, was not provisional,

but permanent; so it rather resembled a town than a bivouac of

soldiers. The huts--made in the Indian fashion, in the form of

_toldos_, with stakes crossed at the top, and covered with leather

from the hides of cows and mares--affected a kind of symmetry in their

position, forming streets, squares, and crossways, having _corrals_,

filled with oxen and horses. Some of them had little gardens, where

were grown, as well as it could be done considering the region of the

climate, a few kitchen herbs.

In the centre of the camp were the _toldos_ of the officers, and of the

four brothers Pincheyra--_toldos_, better built, better furnished, and

much cleaner than those of the soldiers.

Entrance could only be had into the valley where the camp was

established by two narrow canyons, situated one at the east, and

the other at the southwest of the camp; but these two canyons were

so fortified by means of heaps of wood massed together, apparently

pell-mell, but perfectly arranged nevertheless, that any attempt to

force the double entry of these canyons would have been vain. The

sentinels planted there, however--their eyes fixed on the windings

of the defiles--watched attentively over the common safety, while

their companions, withdrawn under their _toldos_, lounged at their

occupations with an easy carelessness which showed they were certain

they had no serious danger to fear.

The _toldo_ of Don Pablo Pincheyra was easy to recognise at the first

glance. Two sentinels paced before it, and several horses, saddled

and ready to be mounted, were attached to pickets at some paces from

the door, over which, from a long lance fixed in the ground, floated

majestically the Spanish flag, in the inconstant play of the fresh

morning breeze. Women--amongst whom several were young and pretty,

though their features were for the most part tarnished by sorrow and

excessive labour--traversed the streets of the camp, carrying water,

wood, or provisions; some at the entrance of the _toldos_ were occupied

in the cares of the house; and soldiers mounted on strong horses, and

armed with long lances, drove the animals out of the _corrals_, and led

them to the pasturage outside the camp. In fact, all was bustle and

animation in this strange repair of the bandits, who called themselves

the royal army; and yet, through all this excitement and apparent

disorder it was easy to recognise a regulating mind, and a powerful

will which directed all, without ever meeting objection or even

hesitation on the part of the subordinates.

At the moment we enter the camp a man wearing the costume of the

Gauchos of the Pampas Of Buenos Aires, lifted the _frazada_, a covering

serving for a door to a _toldo_, built with some regularity, and after

having cast around him a curious and anxious look, he left the _toldo_,

though with some hesitation, and entered the street.

Like all the inhabitants of this singular centre of population, this

man was armed to the teeth, with a sabre which hung at his left side, a

pair of long pistols passed through his girdle, a knife with a straight

blade fixed on his right _polena_, and the horn handle of which rested

on his thigh, and a double-barrelled gun, which was thrown on his

shoulder.

Notwithstanding this formidable arsenal which he carried with him, the

man of whom we speak appeared by no means at his ease. His hesitating

walk, the furtive glances which he continually threw around him--all

denoted a misgiving which he tried vainly to conceal, but which he

could not succeed in conquering.

"_Parbleu!_" murmured he, in a low voice, "I am an idiot, upon my

honour! One man is as good as another; and if it should come to blows,

it must. If I am killed--well, so much the better, for then all will be

over. I should like that the more, as this absurd existence begins to

weigh heavily on me. Never mind, I doubt whether Salvator Rosa, when he

was among the brigands, ever saw such a complete collection of bandits

as those with whom I have had the happiness of living for the last two

months. What magnificent vagabonds! It would be impossible, I think, to

meet their equals. Ah!" added he, with a sigh of regret, "If it were

only possible for me to sketch some of them! But no, these fellows have

no love for art; it is impossible to trace them for a moment. To the

devil with that queer notion which made me stupidly abandon France to

come here."

And Emile Gagnepain--for the reader has doubtless already recognised

him--gave a second sigh, more profound than the first, and cast upward

a despairing look.

Meanwhile, he continued to advance hastily towards one of the outlets

of the camp. His step had become by degrees more firm: he had proudly

raised his head, and had succeeded--with great difficulty, no doubt--in

affecting the most complete carelessness.

The painter had nearly traversed the entire length of the camp; he had

reached a rather large _toldo_, serving as a _corps de garde_ for the

soldiers, watching at the entrenchments; and he hastened his pace with

the design, no doubt, of escaping the inquisitive questions of some

lazy partisan, when he felt himself tapped on the shoulder. Although

this touch had nothing aggressive in it, and was, on the contrary,

quite friendly, the young man started; but, putting a good face on it,

he immediately turned, and, assuming the most amiable look that he

could, he held out his hand to him who had thus come upon him unawares,

and smilingly saluted him with the _buenos dí­as caballero_, which is

the rule throughout Spanish territory.

"And you, Señor Frenchman," gaily answered his visitor, returning his

salute, and gently pressing his hand, "you are well, I hope. It must

be by chance like this for me to have the pleasure of glancing at your

friendly face."

The painter was for a moment taken aback at this speech, the malicious

tone of which did not escape him; but, conquering his emotion, and

feigning the most complete friendliness--

"What do you wish, Don Pablo?" he answered; "This apparent negligence

of which you complain is by no means my fault. The cares of your

command occupy and absorb you so much that you become unapproachable,

whatever desire I may have to visit you."

Don Pablo Pincheyra--for it was he--smiled craftily.

"Is that really the motive which makes you avoid me?" said he.

"Avoid you?"

"Well, find another expression if you can--I am agreeable; I will say

abstain from seeking me, if you prefer it."

"You make a mistake, Don Pablo," answered the young man, with firmness,

who was getting rather warm; "I do not avoid you any more than I have

reason to abstain from seeking you, and the proof--"

"The proof?" interrupted Don Pablo, with a searching look.

"It is that today, at this very moment, I was proceeding towards the

intrenchments in the hope of meeting you."

"Ah! Ah!" said he; "Then, as it is so, I am happy, _caballero_, that

chance has so well served you in bringing us face to face."

"Chance has nothing to do in the affair, I beg you to believe, Don

Pablo."

"It would have been better, however, to have come simply to my _toldo_."

"That is not my opinion, since I meet you here."

"That is true," said the partisan, laughing; "you have an answer for

everything, my dear Sir. Let us admit, then, that you really had the

intention of visiting me; and will you acquaint me with the reasons to

which I owe the honour of this tardy visit?"

"Believe me, dear Don Pablo, this place is not well suited for such a

serious conversation as that which I wish to have with you."

"Ah!" said Don Pablo; "Is it then important business on which you have

to speak?"

"It could not be more important."

"If that is the case, I am, to my great regret, compelled to beg you to

defer this conference for some hours."

"May I be permitted, without appearing impertinent, to ask you the

motive of this delay, which, I admit, annoys me much?"

"Oh! _Mon Dieu!_ I have no secrets from you, my dear sir, you know. The

fact is, that I expect every moment the arrival of certain persons with

whom I must, as soon as they come, have a conversation of the highest

importance."

"Pardon, Seigneur Don Pablo, but these persons to whom you allude--I

think I know them, by reputation at least; moreover, if I am well

informed, I know on what subject their conversation with you will turn."

The black eye of Don Pablo Pincheyra darted a flashing look, which he

immediately controlled, and he answered in a gentle and honeyed tone--

"And you infer from that, my dear Sir?--"

"I infer, Seigneur Don Pablo, that perhaps it would be best, in the

general interest, that you consented to hear me first."

The painter, whose mind was made up, and who felt anger working within

him, had become severe and sharp, and was resolved to push affairs to

an extremity, whatever might be the consequences.

On his side, Don Pablo, under his feigned friendliness, concealed a

resolution previously made, and from which nothing would make him

depart. Between these two men who spoke thus--with a smile on their

lips, but hatred, or at least anger, in their hearts--a strange scene

was thus being enacted.

It was the partisan who renewed the conversation, which had been for a

moment interrupted.

"So, Señor Frenchman," said he, "you had left your _toldo_ with the

intention of paying me a visit."

"Yes, Seigneur."

"To me specially."

"Yes, to you."

"Eh!" said he, with an expressive sneer, pointing to the young man's

girdle, which was furnished with arms; "You will admit that you take

singular precautions when you come to see your friends."

"We are in a country, Seigneur," coldly answered the painter, "where it

is well to be always on one's guard."

"Even with one's friends?"

"Especially with one's friends," said he, sharply.

"Well," coldly resumed the partisan, "follow me secretly, that we may be

able to talk without fear of interruption."

"I will do so."

"You will remark, Señor, that I have more confidence in you than you

deign to show towards me."

"Because, Seigneur?--"

"Because I am without arms."

The young man shrugged his shoulders.

"You act as you think fit," said he, coldly; "perhaps you are wrong,

perhaps you are right--who can say?"

"I do not fear being assassinated."

"If that insult is addressed to me, it fails. If I am taking

precautions against you, it does not follow that I am capable of

assassinating you, as you insinuate."

The partisan shook his head with an air of doubt.

"People furnish themselves with arms," continued the young man, with

a cutting accent, "to defend themselves against the attacks of wild

beasts, without having on that account the desire of fighting them."

"Well, well, Señor Frenchman," said Don Pablo, in a melancholy tone,

"come without any more words; I have but a few minutes to give

you--take advantage of them."

While exchanging these bitter complaints, the two men had proceeded

side by side, and had left the camp, saluted on their passage by the

sentinels at the entrenchments.

They continued thus to advance into the country till they had reached a

rather retired spot--a kind of elbow formed by a turn in the canyon in

which they were, and where they could be neither seen nor heard; while

they, on the other hand, could see a considerable distance to right and

left up and down the road which led to the camp, and on which no one

could have appeared without being discovered.

"I think, Señor Frenchman," said Don Pablo, stopping, "that this place

will suit you; be so good, then, as to speak without further delay."

"So I will," answered the Frenchman, placing on the ground the butt end

of his gun, and leaning his two hands on the end of the barrel, as he

cast a suspicious look around him.

"Oh! We are quite alone; come," pursued Don Pablo, with an ironical

smile, "you can speak without fear."

"It is not fear which restrains me just now, but I have so many things

to say to you that I do not really know how to commence."

"As you like; only, make haste if you wish me to hear you to the end.

In a few minutes, perhaps, I shall be obliged to leave you."

"The Spanish officer whom you expect will not be here for an hour at

least; we have time, then."

"How do you know that I expect a Spanish officer?"

"What does that matter, if it is so?"

"Señor Frenchman," pursued he, knitting his eyebrows, and with a

somewhat threatening tone, "take care how you penetrate my secrets

before I should wish you to know them. For two months that we have

lived together you have been, I suppose, in a position to know me. It

will not be well, believe me, to try and mix yourself up, against my

will, in my affairs."

"You would do well to speak thus if these affairs concerned you alone;

but as, unhappily, I find myself concerned in them, they are as much

mine as yours."

"I do not understand you."

"Are you quite sure of that?" asked the young man, with an ironical

smile.

"Come, explain yourself frankly and honourably, as a man, instead of

prating like an old woman," pursued the partisan, beginning to be angry.

"It is two months," resumed the young man, "that we have lived

together, as you yourself have said. What have you done during these

two months? How have you kept the promise you made me?"

"Have I not saved the two ladies, as I promised, from the peril that

threatened them?"

"Yes, but to make them fall into one still worse."

"I do not understand you, Señor."

"There are none so deaf as those who do not wish to hear. You

understand me very well Unhappily for you, you have not yet reached

the point where you think you are. I have sworn to defend these poor

ladies, and I will defend them, if it is at the peril of my life."

"You are mad, Señor; no one that I know--I less than anyone--has any

intention to injure these ladies in any way. Since their arrival here

at Casa-Frama, you cannot deny that they have been treated with the

greatest attention and respect. Of what do they complain?"

"They complain of being exposed to misplaced and almost dishonouring

attentions on your part; moreover, they say with reason that, far

from giving them that liberty that you had engaged to give them, you

sequester them, and treat them as if they were your captives."

Don Pablo shrugged his shoulders with disdain.

"The women are all alike," said he, with irony; "nothing will satisfy

them. I am in a better position than these ladies are to judge what is

fitting for them.

"Besides, if they will keep quiet, they will not have long to remain

here, and if the sight of my companions shocks them, they will soon be

delivered from it."

"It is not the sight of your companions which shocks them, but yours

and your brothers--the ridiculous homage with which you fatigue them

every hour of the day, and the pretentions that you do not fear to make

everyone acquainted with."

The features of the partisan contracted, a terrified pallor covered his

face, and his eyebrows were knitted till they met.

"Take care, Señor," cried he in a sullen and forced tone, repressing

with great difficulty the anger which he felt; "take care; you are in

my power--do not forget that; and I am the man whom his enemies have

called the bear of Casa-Frama."

"What matters it to me the names they give you?" cried Emile,

forgetting all bounds: "One only will suit you, if you persist in the

fatal course you have entered on--that of bandit."

"_Vive Dieu!_" cried he, with violence, "This insult deserves blood! A

coward only dares thus to outrage a man without arms."

"Nonsense," resumed the young man, with contempt; "without arms!"

and with a gesture of nobility, he threw a pistol at the feet of the

partisan, at the same time abandoning his gun, and taking his second

pistol from his girdle.

"_Pardieu!_ That is a good evasion! If you are as brave as you pretend,

here is a weapon--do me justice. You imagine, then, that I am afraid to

fight with you?"

"_¡Rayo de Dios!_" cried the partisan, with rage, "You shall have the

pleasure of it!"

And darting at the pistol, he cocked it, and discharged it almost close

to the breast of the young man.

The fate of the latter seemed doomed. Considering the little distance

which separated him from his adversary, nothing apparently could save

him. Happily the partisan, blinded by rage, had not calculated his

fire; the ball, badly directed, instead of striking the Frenchman full

in the body, only made a slight graze on the arm, and fell harmless.

"Your life belongs to me," coolly said the young man, cocking his

pistol in his turn.

"Blow my brains out then, _¡caray!_" cried Don Pablo; "Fire, and let

all be over!"

"No," replied the young painter, without emotion, "it is well for you

to see the difference which exists between a man of your sort and of

mine."

"Which means--?" murmured the partisan, when rage stifled.

"That I pardon you!" said Emile.

"Pardon, you say--pardon?" cried he, with the roar of a tiger, "To me!"

"To you, _pardieu!_ To whom else?"

And coolly pushing away with his wounded arm the partisan, who had

darted towards him, he raised his pistol, and discharged it over his

head. Don Pablo remained an instant astounded, his eyes bloodshot,

his features livid, his hands clinched, incapable of understanding

the grandeur of this action, but conquered spite of himself, by the

ascendancy that the young man had in an instant acquired over his rude

and savage nature.

"Your life, then," quietly resumed the young man "belongs to me; I have

given it you back. I only demand in return one thing."

"You demand something of me?" said he, with a mocking sneer.

"Yes."

"Oh! Oh! And if I should not choose to accord you anything?"

"Oh, then," pursued he, with the greatest coolness, "as everything must

have an end, and as it is always allowable to rid one's self of a wild

beast, I shall blow your brains out, as though you were a mad dog."

While speaking thus, Emile had taken his gun in his hand.

The partisan found himself again at the mercy of his adversary.

The former cast at him a look of hatred, but he could see by the

countenance of his enemy that he would not hesitate to put his threat

into execution. Then--thanks to that control which he had over

himself--he brought back calmness to his features, which had been

distorted by rage, and, bowing with a gracious smile--

"Be it so, I will do what you wish, Señor. Your noble generosity has

conquered my obstinacy. Speak."

"Swear on your salvation, by Our Lady of Solitude, to be faithful to

what you engage to do."

"I swear it, on my salvation, by Our Lady of Solitude."

This virgin, much venerated by the gauchos, the trappers, and other

people of that kind, was--at least he thought so--the protectress

of Don Pablo Pincheyra; he was very devoted towards her, and no

consideration whatever would have induced him to violate an oath made

in her name. Emile was aware of this circumstance.

"During three days from this time you will not take any steps against

the two ladies confided to my care."

"I swear it."

At this moment a distant gallop was heard, and a troop of horsemen soon

appeared at a considerable distance.

"Here are the persons whom you expect," pursued Emile; "I should like

to be present at your interview with them."

"Very well, you shall be present at it Do you wish anything else?"

"Nothing."

"What, is that all?"

"Yes."

"You do not stipulate anything for your personal safety?"

"Nonsense," answered the young man, with disdain. "You are jesting,

Seigneur; what have I to fear from you? You would not dare to attempt

the life of his who, master of yours, has refused to take it."

The partisan stamped his foot with rage, but he did not answer.

The horsemen rapidly approached; a few minutes more, and they would

have overtaken the two men who looked at them as they came on, without

making any movement towards them.

CHAPTER VI.

AT CASA-FRAMA.

The horsemen who advanced in the canyon, in the direction of

Casa-Frama--as the headquarters of the Pincheyras was called--formed

a troop of about thirty men. All were well armed and well mounted.

Their costume had a military appearance, and, although riding at a hand

gallop, they preserved their order, and rather resembled soldiers or

partisans than peaceable travellers who had come to the Cordilleras on

business.

Two horsemen, mounted on magnificent black animals, richly harnessed,

preceded by a few paces the body of the troop, and were talking

together with some animation. They had not yet perceived Don Pablo or

the French painter, who, half hidden by the fragments of rock, observed

them attentively.

"These are indeed the persons whom I expected," said he; "come let us

go into the camp again."

"Why not receive them here where we are, since they must absolutely

pass before us?"

"Better that they should not find us here; I ought to receive these

persons with a certain decorum that their rank exacts."

"As you like; but it will be rather difficult to reenter the camp

without being overtaken by them, especially at the pace they are

coming."

"Do not be uneasy about that," pursued Don Pablo, smiling; "still

follow me."

"Let us go," said the painter, repressing a movement of curiosity.

Indeed, it seemed impossible, from the place where they were, for

the two men to regain the camp without being not only perceived, but

overtaken in a few minutes by the travellers.

However, against all probability, it was nothing of the kind.

The partisan, after having scaled, followed by the painter, some blocks

of rock, massed without apparent order one upon the other, found

himself at the entrance of a natural cavern, of which so many exist

in the mountains, and into which, after having removed the brambles

and brushwood which masked the mouth of it, he boldly entered. The

painter did not hesitate to follow him, curious to see this passage so

skilfully concealed, and the existence of which, without any trouble,

the partisan revealed to him--a passage which at some time or other

might be of the greatest importance to the young man. The cavern was

large, spacious, and airy; daylight penetrated it by imperceptible

fissures, and produced a dim light sufficient to walk without fear and

to wander in this labyrinth of galleries, which opened right and left,

and were lost under the mountain at probably considerable distances, or

perhaps had exits in several directions.

After a rapid walk of a few minutes, a dull and continuous sound,

resembling a considerable fall of water, was heard, and became louder

and louder. At last the two men emerged from the cavern and found

themselves on a narrow platform, two or three yards broad at the most,

masked completely by a sheet of water which fell from a great height

two or three yards before the platform, and broke with a great sound

upon a chaos of rocks twenty yards lower down, where it divided into

two branches, forming a little farther off two distinct rivers.

"We have arrived," said the Pincheyra, turning towards his companion,

to whom, till then, he had not addressed a word; "do you recognise this

place?"

"Perfectly. It is just at the foot of this cascade that the camp is

established; your _toldo_ is not more than a gunshot from it."

"You are quite right. You see that I have not deceived you."

"It is true; but how shall we descend into the valley? It appears to me

that the road is scarcely practicable."

"You are mistaken; it is, on the contrary, most easy, as you shall

see; only give me your word as a caballero not to reveal to anyone

the secret that I confide to you. You understand, do you not, the

importance to me, in case of attack, of having a way by which I could

escape with my companions without striking a blow, and glide, so to

say, like a serpent between the fingers of my enemies, when they would

think me at their mercy?"

"I understand that perfectly, and I heartily take the oath you exact,

especially as the confidence with which you have conducted me here is

an unquestionable proof of the esteem you have for me."

Don Pablo bowed politely.

"Come," said he, "we will descend."

He then made a turn on the right, and gained the western extremity of

the platform.

"See," said he.

The painter looked.

A ladder cut in the solid rock descended at a gentle declivity to a

certain depth on the flanks of the mountain, and was lost in a thick

cluster of forest trees.

"Chance, a long time ago," pursued Don Pablo, "revealed to me this

passage at a time when I thought I should never have to make use of it.

Now, it is very useful to me to enter and leave the camp without being

seen; but we shall not remain long here. Come."

Don Pablo, with a confidence which would have been decided folly with

any other man than the painter, then passed first, and began to descend

without even turning his head to see if his companion followed him.

Nothing would have been more easy than to make this partisan lose his

equilibrium by gently pushing him as if by chance, and so making him

break his neck against the rocks. The thought did not even occur to the

painter, notwithstanding the hatred which rankled in his heart against

this man--a hatred revived by their recent quarrel. He followed his

enemy in this hazardous descent, as unconcerned as if he had made a

promenade of pleasure with an intimate friend.

It did not take them more than a few minutes to reach the base of the

mountain, and place their foot in the valley.

"Here we are," said Don Pablo; "we ought to separate here; go to your

affairs, and I will go to mine."

They were, in fact, in the middle of the camp, at few paces only from

the _toldo_ of the chief.

"Are you not going to receive the strangers who are coming?" asked

Emile.

"Yes, I am going to receive them, for they will be here in ten minutes

or so; and, as I have told you, I wish to pay them a certain respect to

which they have a right."

"It was arranged between us, I thought, that I should assist at this

interview?"

"Certainly, and I will keep my promise, you may depend; but this

interview will not take place till later--in two or three hours at

least. I am only now about to fulfil towards the strangers the duties

of hospitality. When they have rested, we will occupy ourselves with

business. So, make your mind easy; when the time comes, I will take

care to tell you that you may assist at the conference."

"I have your word, I will therefore make no further objection. God keep

you, Seigneur Don Pablo."

"God keep you, Señor Don Emile," answered the partisan.

The two men bowed, and without further discussion they turned their

backs, and each went his way: Don Pablo proceeding to the entrance of

the camp, where, no doubt, his presence would soon be required; and the

painter returning to his _toldo_, where he soon arrived A man, sitting

on the threshold, appeared to be waiting his arrival.

This man was Tyro the Guaraní. At a few paces from him, crouched on the

soil, two ragged individuals, but armed to the teeth, were playing at

_monte_. These persons were Mataseis is and Sacatripas, the two bullies

engaged by the painter on his flight from San Miguel de Tucuman.

Without disturbing themselves, they saluted their master as he passed,

and continued the eager game they had commenced at sunrise, and which

probably would last, unless important affairs called them off, until

the end of the day.

At the sight of the Frenchman, Tyro quickly rose, raised the curtain of

the _toldo_, and, after his master had entered, followed him.

"What news?" asked Emile.

"Nothing important apparently," answered the Guaraní, "but much in

reality."

"Ah!" said the young man, with a thoughtful air, "What has happened

then?"

"Nothing, I repeat, my friend; however, I think you will do well to be

on your guard."

"Eh! Am I not always so?"

"True, but an increase of precaution could do no harm."

"Then you have learned something?"

"I have learned nothing positive as yet; however, I have my suspicions;

soon, I hope, I shall be able to inform you."

"Have you seen the ladies today?"

"Yes, my friend; this morning I had the honour to pay them a visit;

they are sorrowful and resigned, as usual, and it is easy to see that

their position becomes more painful to them every moment, and that

their feigned resignation conceals a profound despondency."

"Alas!" murmured the young man, with sadness, "I am unhappily unable to

be of service to them."

"Perhaps, my friend."

Emile quickly brightened up.

"You know something, do you not, my good Tyro?" cried he, with anxiety.

"I must say nothing yet, my friend; be patient You shall soon know all."

The young man sighed.

"I have seen Don Pablo," said he.

"Ah!" said the Guaraní, with curiosity.

"I shall assist at the interview."

"Good!" cried the Indian, joyfully rubbing his hands together; "So much

the better, Don Pablo has not made any difficulties?"

"Hum! He only consented when the pistol was at his breast."

"No matter; the principal thing is that you will be present."

"You see that I have followed your counsel."

"Soon, my friend, you will yourself acknowledge the importance of it."

"God grant it! I confess that since I have been in this frightful den

of Casa-Frama, I feel that I am losing all energy."

"Courage, my friend; perhaps you are nearer escaping from it than you

suppose."

"You never speak except by enigmas."

"Excuse me; it is at present impossible for me to explain myself."

"Do as you like; I will not interfere in anything."

"Till the moment for action has arrived."

"But when this moment has come--?"

Tyro did not answer, occupied in preparing for his master's breakfast.

Apparently absorbed by this grave occupation, he feigned not to hear

these too significant words.

"Now it is ready, my friend," said he; "eat and drink, you must require

refreshment. We never know what the future reserves for us, and it is

well to be prepared for anything that may happen."

The painter looked at him a moment attentively.

"Come," said he, sitting on a stool before the table, "you are plotting

something?"

The Guaraní burst out a laugh maliciously.

"Ah!" said he, after a pause, "You know, my friend, that the engagement

of our two companions terminated yesterday."

"What companions, and what engagements?" answered the young man, with

his mouth full.

"Why, that of Mataseis and his worthy acolyte Sacatripas."

"Good, but what have I to do with that? These fellows have been paid in

advance; I do not owe them anything."

"Pardon, my friend; you owe them two months."

"How is that?"

"Because I have renewed their engagement for two months this very

morning at the same price; for that matter it is not dear; the fellows

have a certain value."

"What a strange idea to hamper us afresh with these wretches! Would it

not have been better to have got rid of them, and to send them to get

hanged somewhere else?"

"As to being hanged, make your mind easy; that will happen to them

sooner or later. Meanwhile, I have thought it preferable to keep them

in our service. Do you remember, my friend, that when we fight against

bandits we should have some of the same stamp in our interests?"

"Arrange it as you like, that's your affair; for you do everything here

according to your own notions. I Keep them or don't keep them--I wash

my hands of it."

"You are merry, my friend?"

"No, I am sad; I have sometimes a temptation to put an end to it by

blowing out the brains of that cursed Pincheyra, and then taking the

same leap myself."

"Be careful not to give way to these temptations, my friend; not that

I interest myself the least in the world in these Pincheyras, for I am

reserving for Don Pablo and his brothers a dish of my own preparing,

which they will find too highly spiced, I am convinced; but the moment

has not yet come. Let us be patient, and, for a commencement, be

present at the interview today, my friend; and open your ears, for if I

do not much deceive myself, you will hear strange things."

"Yes, yes, I suppose that an interview with the colonel--for he has

definitively taken this grade on his own authority--must be fertile in

curious incidents."

"I wish to leave you the pleasure of the surprise, my friend. Are you

going out?" added he, seeing his master proceeding towards the door.

"I intend to pay my respects to the ladies."

"You will not have time for it; moreover, you could not talk freely

with them; the two sisters of Don Pablo are at present with them."

"These women appear to have received orders not to lose sight of these

two unhappy ladies; they pass nearly the whole day with them."

"It is probable that they have received instructions of the kind."

The young man did not answer, but he knitted his eyebrows, stamped with

rage, and began to walk to and fro.

Some minutes elapsed

"_Parbleu!_" cried he at last, "I am a perfect ass to fret thus about

things which cannot affect me, and which I cannot prevent! It is

evident, in fact, that as life is a continual game of seesaw, when I

shall have; reached the last step of bad fortune, I must remount, and

that, according to fate, my position will improve. Bah! I will trust

to Providence. He is more skilful than me, and will know well, when it

pleases Him, how to enable me to escape from my embarrassment! However,

it appears to me that it is time for a change; I am horribly wearied

here. Upon my word, it was a splendid idea to come into this new

world to seek tranquillity and patriarchal manners! Mercy on us! What

patriots these Pincheyras are! And how true and copied from nature are

the narratives of travel!"

And he laughed heartily.

As what precedes had been said in French, and consequently the Indian

had not understood a word, he looked at the young man with a wondering

air, which redoubled the hilarity of the latter; so that the Guaraní

asked himself if his master had not suddenly gone mad. But a new

personage at the moment appeared in the _toldo_, and by his presence

calmed, as by enchantment, the gaiety of the Frenchman, and rendered

him serious again.

This personage was no other than Don Santiago Pincheyra, one of the

brothers of Don Pablo; he to whom the young man had rendered so great

a service on the occasion of his skirmish with the squadron of Zeno

Cabral.

Brutal and morose as was Don Santiago, he appeared to have preserved

some gratitude to the painter for this service, and on several

occasions he had manifested a slight interest in him. It was owing to

his influence that the painter was treated with consideration in the

camp of the partisans, and nearly free to act in his own way without

being exposed to the gross annoyances of this undisciplined troop of

bandits.

"I see with pleasure that you do not breed melancholy among you,

Seigneurs Frenchmen," said he, holding out his hand. "So much the

better! Grief would kill a cat, as we say."

"You see that I adapt myself to circumstances," answered Emile,

pressing his hand. "To answer your proverb by another, I will say,

things that can't be helped should be forgotten. What brings me the

honour of your visit, dear Seigneur?"

"First, the desire of seeing you, and then, a message from my brother,

Don Pablo Pincheyra."

"Believe me, that I feel as I ought this proof of courtesy, dear

Seigneur," said the young man, bowing with politeness; "and this

message that, through you, his Excellency Colonel Don Pablo Pincheyra

does me the honour to send is important, no doubt?"

"You will decide that better than me, Señor; my brother requests your

presence at the interview which is immediately to take place with some

Spanish officers, who arrived about an hour ago at our headquarters."

"I am honoured by his Excellency deigning to think of me. I will

present myself at the council when I shall have received the order to

do so."

"This order I bring you, Seigneur Frenchman, and if you please to

follow me I will accompany you to the place chosen for the interview,

which is the council room in my brother's _toldo_."

"Very well, Seigneur Don Santiago, I am ready to follow you."

"Then we will set out together; for they only wait for you."

The painter exchanged with the Guaraní a last look, to which the latter

responded by one not less significant, and, without saying anything

further, he left the _toldo_ with Don Santiago.

All was gossip at Casa-Frama; the unforeseen arrival of the strangers

had awakened general curiosity; the streets were literally crammed

with men, women, and children, who pressed towards the _toldo_ of the

colonel.

The two men had much difficulty in threading a passage through the

crowd of idlers who obstructed the public way; and had it not been for

Don Santiago, known and respected by all, the Frenchman would probably

not have succeeded in reaching the spot he wanted.

Although the abode of Don Pablo Pincheyra bore the name of _toldo_,

it was in reality a vast and airy house, built with the greatest

possible care for the convenience of its owner. The walls were of clay,

plastered and whitewashed carefully. Ten windows, with shutters painted

green, and ornamented with climbing plants, which grew in various

directions, gave it an air of gaiety which made it pleasant to look at.

The door, preceded by a peristyle and a verandah, was in the centre of

the building. Before this door a flagstaff was planted in the earth,

surmounted by a Spanish flag. Two sentinels, armed with lances, were

seated, one at the threshold of the door, the other at the foot of the

flagstaff. A battery of six pieces of cannon was pointed a few paces in

advance, half hidden at this moment by thirty horses, all harnessed,

which champed their bits, and covered them with foam.

At the sight of Don Santiago the sentinels presented arms, and moved

aside respectfully to give him passage, while the crowd was kept

at a distance by some soldiers, previously placed there for that

purpose, and had no other means of slaking their curiosity than that

of questioning the attendants of the strangers who were watching their

master's horses.

The two men entered the house. After having passed through a hall full

of soldiers, they entered a room where several officers were talking

in a high voice about the arrival of the strangers. Some of these

officers approached Don Santiago to ask him the news; but the latter,

who perhaps knew no more than they on this subject, or who had received

strict instructions from his brother, only gave them evasive answers,

and putting them aside gently with, his hand, he at last entered the

council room, followed closely by the French painter, who began to be

much interested in all he saw.

The council room was a rather large apartment, the whitewashed walls

of which were completely bare, with the exception of a large Christ in

ivory, placed at the extremity of the room, above an armchair occupied

at the moment by Don Pablo Pincheyra. To the right of this figure a

wretched engraving, frightfully illuminated, purported to represent the

King of Spain, crowned, and with the scepter in his hand. To the left

an engraving, not less ugly, represented, or was supposed to represent,

Our Lady of Solitude.

The furniture was mean and primitive; some few benches and stools

ranged against the walls, and a small table, formed the whole of it.

Don Pablo Pincheyra, dressed in the uniform of a Spanish colonel, was

seated in his armchair; near him was his brother, Don José Antonio,

on the right; the place of Don Santiago on his left was for the time

vacant; then came Father Gomez, chaplain of Don Pablo--a fat and jovial

monk, but whose eyes sparkled with wit; several officers--captains,

lieutenants, and subalterns, grouped without order round their

chief--were leaning on their sabres, and carelessly smoking their

cigarettes, talking in a low voice.

Before the table was seated a tall, lean man, with ascetic features,

and ambiguous, deceitful eyes. This was Don Justo Vallejos, Secretary

of Don Pablo; for, as he had given himself the luxury of a chaplain,

this worthy colonel no doubt had felt all the greater need of attaching

a secretary to his person.

A _cabo_ or corporal stood near the door, and filled; the functions of

doorkeeper, introducing the visitors.

"At last!" cried Don Pablo, perceiving the Frenchman; "I began to fear

that you would not come."

"We have had great difficulty in reaching here," answered Don Santiago,

taking the place which had been reserved for him.

"Now you have come, all is ready, Señor Frenchman; place yourself

there, near my secretary. Cabo Mendez, bring a chair for this

gentleman."

The young man bowed silently, and, as he had received the order to do,

he sat down near the secretary, who in turn bowed, and cast a furtive

look at him by way of salute.

"Now, _caballeros_," pursued Don Pablo, addressing the company, "do not

forget that representatives of his Most Sacred Majesty the King, our

sovereign, are about to appear before us. Let us act, then, as the true

_caballeros_ that we are, and let us prove to them that we are not so

savage as they perhaps have supposed."

The officers answered by a respectful bow, sat upright, and threw away

their cigarettes.

Looking around him, Don Pablo assured himself that his wishes had

been attended to, and that his officers had assumed an attitude more

becoming than that they had previously taken, and then, turning towards

the corporal, motionless at the door, on the lock of which his hand was

placed--

"Cabo Mendez," said he, "introduce to us the representatives of his

Catholic Majesty the King of Spain and the Indies."

The corporal opened both leaves of the door, and the persons expected,

who were in an adjoining apartment, entered the room with a grave and

measured tread, after the corporal had repeated, with a clear voice,

and in an emphatic tone, the last words of Don Pablo Pincheyra.

These strangers, to whom was given a title to which they probably had a

very doubtful right, were to the number of five.

Their escort had remained without. On perceiving them the young

Frenchman with difficulty repressed an exclamation of surprise. Of

the five persons he had recognized two whom he certainly was far from

expecting to meet under such circumstances.

CHAPTER VII.

THE INTERVIEW.

If Emile Gagnepain became somewhat more calm, certainly the strange

spectacle that he had before him had aroused not only his gaiety but

his caustic fancy. This shameless parody of interviews accorded by the

chiefs of a powerful nation to the representatives of another--played

seriously by bandits with low and cruel features, and hands red with

blood--half fox and half wolf--whose affected manners had something

despicable and repulsive in them--disagreeably impressed the young man,

and caused him to experience an undefinable sentiment of disgust and

pity for the Spanish officers, who did not scruple to come and humbly

implore the aid of these ferocious partisans, whom for a long time they

had implacably pursued, to punish them for their innumerable misdeeds.

And, in fact, the Spanish officers appeared to be perfectly aware of

their anomalous position, and of the reprehensible step, with regard

to honour and the right of nations, that they did not at this moment

scruple to take.

Notwithstanding the assurance they affected and their haughty bearing,

the blush of shame covered their faces. In spite of them their heads

drooped, and their eyes rested only with a kind of hesitation on the

persons by whom they were surrounded, and who, without doubt, they

wished had been less numerous.

This unusual ceremony, displayed before them with the evident design of

cutting them off from all retreat, and of engaging them irrevocably,

weighed upon them; for they understood all the bearings of such a

measure, and the effect it could not fail to have beyond the mountains.

The bearing of the Pincheyras formed a striking contrast to that of the

Spaniards.

Tumultuously grouped round their chiefs, with mocking eye and sardonic

lip, they whispered to each other, throwing over their shoulders

disdainful glances at those whose bad fortune constrained them to seek

their aid.

Don Pablo Pincheyra and his brothers alone preserved a becoming

countenance. They felt their hearts swell with pride as they thought

of the past, which fortune, by one of her incomprehensible caprices,

called on them suddenly to play. They looked upon this attitude as

serious, and really believed themselves called upon to replace, by the

force of their arms, under Spanish domination, those rich colonies

which had so providentially escaped them, by that just and implacable

law of retaliation which wills that, sooner or later, the executioners

shall become in their turn victims of those whom they have martyred.

When the strangers had been introduced by the _cabo_, and the first

salutations had been exchanged, Don Pablo Pincheyra commenced--

"Welcome to Casa-Frama, _caballeros_," said he, beginning with studied

politeness; "I will try, while you are pleased to stay among us, to

render your visit agreeable."

"I thank you, _caballero_, in the name of my companions and my own,"

answered one of the strangers, "for the gracious welcome you have been

pleased to give us; permit me on one point only to correct you. It is

not a visit that we make to you and your brave companions, so devoted

and loyal champions of Spain; we come charged with an important mission

by our sovereign and yours."

"We are ready to listen to this message, _caballero_; but first will

you be so good as to acquaint us with your name and those of the

honourable persons who accompany you."

The stranger bowed.

"I am," he said, "Don Antonio Zinozain de Figueras, lieutenant colonel

in the service of his Majesty the King of Spain and the Indies."

"I have very often heard your name, Señor _caballero_," interrupted Don

Pablo.

"Two others, captains of his Majesty, have been attached to me,"

continued Don Antonio, directing the partisan's attention to them, "Don

Lucio Ortega and Don Estevan Mendoza."

The two officers, whose names had just been mentioned, ceremoniously

bowed.

Pincheyra darted a piercing look at them, and addressing him who had

been designated by the name of Don Estevan Mendoza--

"Prudence, no doubt, has induced you, _caballero_, to conceal yourself

modestly under the name of Don Estevan."

"Señor--" stammered the Spaniard.

"Reassure yourself, _caballero_," continued Don Pablo; "although these

precautions are useless, I understand your scruples; your _incognito_

shall be respected."

Don Estevan--or at least the person who had given himself this

name--blushed with shame and confusion at these cutting words, but he

found no words to answer, and bowed silently with an ill-concealed

gesture of spite.

Don Pablo smiled slyly, and turning towards Don Antonio--

"Continue, I beg, _caballero_," said he.

The latter had been as surprised as annoyed at the mocking observation

of the partisan, and it was with some difficulty that he succeeded

in concealing the annoyance he felt; however, thus questioned by Don

Pablo, he bowed and answered--

"The two other persons who accompany me are--the one an Indian Araucan

chief, renowned--"

"I know him," said Pincheyra. "A long time ago Captain Marilaün and I

slept side by side under the same _toldo_, as two brothers who loved

each other; I am, then, happy to see him."

"And I also," answered the chief in excellent Spanish. "If it had only

depended on my will, I should have united myself to your chief several

months ago, for you are brave as the most redoubtable Ulmen of my

tribe."

Don Pablo pressed the hand of the chief.

"It only remains to me, _caballero_," pursued Don Antonio, "to present

to you this officer."

"It is needless, _caballero_," quickly interrupted Don Pablo; "when

the time arrives he will present himself, informing us of the motives

which lead to his presence among us. Will you now be so good as to

acquit yourself of the mission with which you are charged, in making us

acquainted with the message of which you are the bearers."

"Señor _caballero_," pursued Don Antonio Zinozain, "the king, my

master and yours, satisfied with the services you have rendered to

his government since the commencement of this deplorable revolt, has

deigned to confer on you the grade of colonel."

"I thank his Majesty for his kind solicitude for me," answered Don

Pablo with a sardonic smile, "but the grade which he is good enough to

confer upon me today, my sword has long ago conquered for me in the

battlefield, where I have poured out my blood like water, to maintain

the rights of his sacred Majesty."

"I know it _caballero_, but it is not to this distinction only that his

Majesty confines his favours."

"I am listening to you, Señor."

"His Majesty has not only resolved to place under your immediate orders

a body of two hundred men of regular cavalry, commanded by myself and

other officers of the army, but also he authorises you, by a decree

duly signed by him and registered in the chancellor's office, to take

for the corps placed under your orders the title of the Faithful Corps

of Mountain Chasseurs, to hoist the royal standard quartered with

Castile and León, and to place the Spanish cockade on the hats of your

soldiers."

"His Majesty accords me these signal favours?" interrupted Dou Pablo,

with a joyous trembling in his voice.

"Moreover," impassively continued Don Antonio Zinozain, "his Majesty,

considering that, up to the present time, guided solely by your

devotion and your inviolable fidelity, you have sustained the war

at your own risk and peril, dispensing and compromising your own

fortune for his service, without hope of regaining these enormous

disbursements--his Majesty, I say, whose high wisdom nothing escapes,

has thought fit to give you a proof of his high satisfaction at this

loyal conduct. He has consequently ordered that a sum of 100,000

piastres should be immediately placed at your disposal, in order to

cover a part of your expenses. Moreover, he authorises you to take in

advance, from all the war contributions that you shall impose on the

towns which fall in your power, a tenth, of which you shall dispose as

you think fit, as being entirely your own property, and this to the

amount of another 100,000 piastres. His Majesty, besides, charges me,

through his Excellency the Viceroy, his delegate and bearer of full

powers, to assure you of his high satisfaction and of his desire not to

limit to what he has done today the reward that he reckons to accord to

you in the future."

"So," said Don Pablo, standing erect with a proud smile, "I am now

really a war chief."

"His Majesty has so decided," coldly answered Don Antonio.

"_¡Vive Dios!_" cried the partisan with a menacing gesture; "his

Majesty has done well, for I swear that of all those who now fight for

his cause, I shall be the last to lay down arms if I die for it. Never

will I consent to treat with the rebels, and this oath I will keep,

_¡rayo de Cristo!_ Even if heaven and earth should league against me to

weigh me down, I hope that, a century hence, the grandchildren of the

men that we now fight should still tremble at the memory of my name."

The ferocious partisan had risen as he uttered this terrible

imprecation; he had bowed his tall figure, thrown back his head, and

placed his hand on the pommel of his sabre, whilst he cast at those

around him a look of inexpressible arrogance and of savage energy.

The assembly were moved by these bold words; an electric shock appeared

to run through them, and suddenly the whole room burst out into cries

and exclamations; and then, the partisans warming by degrees through

their own excitement, soon reached a paroxysm of joy and delirium.

Primitive natures are easy to draw out. These men, half savages, felt

themselves recompensed by the honours accorded to their chief; they

were proud of him, and manifested their joy in their own way--that is

to say, by bawling out and gesticulating.

The Spaniards themselves shared to a certain extent the general

excitement. For a time, hope, nearly extinguished, arose as strongly in

their hearts as on the first day, and they persuaded themselves into

the belief in a success henceforth impossible.

In fact, at the point at which affairs had now arrived, this last

attempt made by the Spaniards was but an act of foolish temerity,

the result of which could not but be the prolongation, without any

necessity, of a war of extermination between men of the same race,

speaking the same language--an impious war, and a sacrilege which they

ought, on the contrary, to have terminated as soon as possible, in

order to spare bloodshed, instead of leaving America under the burden

of general reprobation. But they were driven forward much more by the

hatred of the colonists towards themselves, than by a sentiment of

patriotism and nationality, that the latter did not yet understand, and

which could not exist on a land which never, since its discovery, had

been free.

Emile Gagnepain, the only spectator, apart from his reasons as to

personal safety, completely disinterested in the question, could not,

however, preserve his indifference, and assist coldly at this scene.

He would even have ended by giving way to the general excitement, if

the presence of the two Spanish officers--the first cause of all his

misfortunes--had not restrained him, by inspiring a secret apprehension

which he vainly tried to combat, but which, spite of all his efforts,

continued with an obstinacy more and more disquieting to him.

Although the young Frenchman was prominently placed near Don Pablo

Pincheyra's secretary, the Spaniards, from their entrance into the

room, had not appeared to notice him. Not once had their eyes been

directed to him, although they must have seen him. This obstinacy in

feigning not to see him appeared the more extraordinary on the part of

these two men, as they had no ostensible motive for avoiding him--at

least he supposed so.

Emile was only waiting for the interview to terminate to approach

Captain Ortega, and ask him to explain a proceeding which was not only

painful to him, but which seemed to denote intentions anything but

friendly towards himself.

When the tumult began to subside, and the partisans had by degrees

ceased their vociferations, Don Pablo claimed silence with a gesture,

and prepared to take leave of the Spanish envoys, but Don Antonio

Zinozain took a step in advance, and turning towards the Indian chief,

who, up till then, had remained impassable and mute, listening to and

observing all that was passing around him, though taking no part in it.

"Has my brother Marilaün nothing, then, to say to the great pale

chief?" asked he.

"Yes," sharply answered the Araucan, "I have sworn this: Marilaün is

a powerful Apo-Ulmen among the Aucas; a thousand warriors when he

demands them follow his horse wherever he is pleased to conduct them;

his _quipu_ is obeyed on all the territory of the Puelches and the

Huiliches; Marilaün loves the grandfather of the palefaces; he will

fight with his warriors to bring back to their duty the wandering sons

of the Toqui of the whites. Five hundred Huiliche and Puelche horsemen

will range themselves near the Pincheyra when he orders it, for

Pincheyra has always been a friend of the Aucas, and they consider him

as a child of their tribe. I have said. Have I spoken well, powerful

men?"

"I thank you for your generous offer, chief," answered Don Pablo, "and

I accept it with alacrity. Your warriors are brave; your own reputation

for courage and wisdom has long since passed the bounds of your

territory. The aid you offer me will be very useful to his Majesty.

Now, _caballeros_, permit me to offer you hospitality. You are fatigued

with a long journey, and must want to take some refreshments before

leaving. As there is nothing to retain us any further here, will you

follow me?"

"Pardon, Señor Colonel," said the Portuguese officer, who till then had

kept modestly on one side; "before you quit this room I will, if you

permit me, acquit myself of a mission to you with which I am charged."

Notwithstanding his self-control, Don Pablo allowed a gesture of

dissatisfaction to escape him, which he almost immediately repressed.

"Perhaps it would be better, Señor Captain," he replied, in a

conciliating tone, "to postpone till a more fitting moment the

communication that you have to make me."

"Why so, Señor Colonel?" quickly answered the Portuguese; "the

moment appears to me very suitable, and the spot where we are very

appropriate. Moreover; do you not come here to treat of subjects of the

highest importance?"

"Perhaps so, Señor, but it appears to me that this meeting has lasted

too long already--it is prolonged beyond ordinary limits. You, like

ourselves, must want some hours of repose."

"So, Señor Colonel, you refuse to hear me?" drily pursued the officer.

"I do not say that," quickly answered Don Pablo; "do not misunderstand

me, I beg, Señor Captain. I address a simple observation to you in your

own interest--that is all, Señor."

"If it is to be so, _caballero_, permit me, while thanking you for

your courtesy, not to accept, at present at least, the gracious offer

you make me, and, if you will permit me, I will acquit myself of my

mission."

Don Pablo threw a stealthy look on the French painter, and then

answered with visible repugnance--

"Speak, then, Señor, since you insist on it. _Caballeros_," added

he, addressing the other strangers, "excuse me for a few minutes, I

beg. You see that I am obliged to listen to what this _caballero_ so

ardently wishes to tell me; but I am glad to think that he will not

detain you long."

"A few minutes only, Señor."

"Be it so; we listen to you."

And the partisan resumed with a wearied air the seat that he had

quitted. Although he put a good face upon it, an observer would have

seen that he felt annoyed. The Frenchman, put on his guard by Tyro, and

who, till this time, had seen nothing in what passed that concerned

himself, did not allow this circumstance to escape him, slight as it

was. Feigning entire indifference, he redoubled his attention, and

imposed silence on Don Pablo's secretary, who--no doubt warned by his

master--had suddenly felt inclined to talk with the young man, to

whom he had previously not condescended to accord the least mark of

politeness.

Thus rebuffed, Señor Vallejos felt constrained to subside again into

the same silence that had previously distinguished him.

The Portuguese captain, taking advantage of the permission that had

been given him, advanced a few paces, and after having ceremoniously

bowed to Don Pablo, he commenced in a firm tone--

"Señor Colonel," said he, "my name is Don Sebastiao Vianna; I have the

honour to serve, in the capacity of captain, in the army of his Majesty

the King of Portugal and the Algarves."

"I know it, _caballero_," drily answered Don Pablo; "come to the fact,

if you please, without further delay."

"I will do so, Señor; but before acquitting myself of the message with

which I am charged, I was bound first to make myself officially known

to you."

"Very well; continue."

"General Don Roque, Marquis de Castelmelhor, commander in chief of

the second division of the corps of occupation of the Banda Oriental,

of whom I have the honour to be aide-de-camp, sends me to you, Don

Pablo Pincheyra, colonel commanding a squadron in the service of his

Majesty the King of Spain, to beg you to explain yourself clearly and

fully on the subject of the Marchioness of Castelmelhor, his wife, and

Doña Eva de Castelmelhor, his daughter, whom--according to certain

reports which have reached him--you retain, against the law of nations,

prisoners in your camp at Casa-Frama."

"Ah!" cried Don Pablo, with a gesture of denial, "Such a supposition

attacks my honour, Señor Captain; beware!"

"I do not speak on supposition, _caballero_," pursued Don Sebastiao,

with firmness; "be so good as to answer me clearly. Are these ladies,

or are they not, in your power?"

"These ladies have claimed my assistance to escape from the rebels, who

had made them prisoners."

"You retain them, in your camp--here, at Casa-Frama?"

Don Pablo turned with an air of vexation towards the Frenchman, whose

eye he instinctively felt weighed upon him.

"It is true," at last he answered, "that these ladies are in my camp,

but they enjoy perfect liberty."

"But on several occasions, when they have entreated you to allow them

to rejoin General Castelmelhor, you have always objected to it on some

vague pretext."

The situation became more and more embarrassing; the partisan felt rage

boiling within him; he saw that he had been betrayed, that his conduct

was known, that all denial was useless. The honourable distinction

that had been so recently conferred upon him induced him to restrain

himself, but he was not sufficiently master of himself to repress all

manifestation of annoyance--there was in him too much of the partisan

and the bandit for that.

"_¡Vive Dios!_" cried he, with violence, "One would think that you are

now making me undergo an examination!"

"It is so, in fact," proudly answered the officer.

"You forget, it appears to me, where you are and to whom you are

speaking, Señor."

"I forget nothing; I do my duty without troubling, myself with the

probable consequences that this conduct may have for myself."

"You are jesting, Señor," pursued the partisan, with a wily smile; "you

have nothing to fear from me or mine; we are soldiers and not bandits;

speak, then, without fear."

Don Sebastiao smiled bitterly.

"I have no fear, Señor," said he, "but that of not succeeding in

accomplishing my mission; but I find that I am detaining you longer

than I wished; I therefore briefly conclude. My general charges me to

remind Don Pablo Pincheyra, a Spanish officer, that his honour, as

a soldier, demands that he fail not in his word, loyally given, in

retaining against their will two ladies who, of their own accord, have

placed themselves under his safeguard. He, consequently, begs him to

send them under my escort to the headquarters of the Portuguese army.

To Pincheyra, the partisan chief--a man to whom the words, honour, and

loyalty are void of meaning, and who only seeks lucre--the Marquis

of Castelmelhor offers a ransom of 4,000 piastres, that I am charged

to pay on the surrender of the two ladies. Now I have finished,

_caballero_; it is for you to tell me to whom I am now speaking--to the

Spanish officer or to the Montonero."

After these Words, uttered with a short and dry voice, the captain

leant on his sabre, and waited.

Meanwhile, a lively agitation reigned in the room; the partisans

whispered to each other, casting angry glances at the bold officer

who dared to brave them in their own camp; some even had their hands

already on their arms, and a conflict seemed imminent.

Don Pablo rose, calmed the tumult with an imperious gesture, and, when

silence was re-established, he replied to the general's envoy with

exquisite courtesy--

"Señor Captain, I excuse the bitterness and exaggeration in what you

have just said; you are ignorant of what has passed, and do not know

how to acquit yourself of the mission with which you are charged; The

tone you have thought proper to take would perhaps, with any other man

than me, have serious consequences for you; but, I repeat, I excuse you

in wrongly supposing me to have intentions which have always been far

from my thoughts. These ladies have asked for my protection; I have

accorded it them to the full. They now think they can do without it.

Be it so; they are free; nothing prevents them leaving with you; they

are not my prisoners. I have, then, no ransom to exact from them. My

only reward will be to have been happy enough to have been of service

to them in so perilous a position. That is the answer, Señor Captain,

that I have to make to you. Will you inform his Excellency the Marquis

de Castelmelhor as to the manner in which I have acted with you,

and assure him that I have been happy to render to these ladies the

services that they have claimed from me on my honour as a soldier."

"This answer fills me with joy, _caballero_," resumed the officer.

"Believe me that I thought it a duty to dispel from the mind of my

General the prejudices which he had acquired against you--and with some

reason, permit me to say. He does not know you, and your enemies have

traduced you to him."

"All is settled then, Señor. I am happy that this grave affair has at

last terminated to our mutual satisfaction. When do you wish to leave?"

"As soon as I possibly can, Señor."

"I understand; the Marquis de Castelmelhor must be impatient to see

once more two persons who are so dear to him, and from whom he has

been so long separated. But these ladies must require some hours to

make their preparations for departure; they are not yet informed of

it. I venture to hope, then, that you will accept the invitation that

I have made these _caballeros_, and share the hospitality that I offer

them."

"With all my heart, _caballero_, only I should wish that you would

permit me to see these ladies without delay."

"I will myself conduct you to them, Señor Captain, as soon as you have

taken some refreshments."

The captain bowed; a further persistence would have been in bad taste.

Don Pablo then left the room with his guests and his most intimate

officers. On passing the French painter he did not say a word to him,

but he looked at him sardonically, and with a smile which much struck

the young man.

"Hum!" murmured he to himself; "It is not so clear to me. I believe I

must more than ever watch over these poor ladies. Don Pablo has too

readily consented to let them go."