THE COUNTRY HOUSE.
Between Valparaíso and Rio Claro, halfway to Santiago, stood a
delicious country house, belonging to Don Juan de Dios-Souza y
Soto-Mayor, a descendant of one of the noblest and richest families
in Chili: several of its members have played an important part in the
Spanish monarchy.
The Soto-Mayors are counted among the number of the bravest and
proudest comrades of Fernando Cortez, Pizarro, and all those heroic
adventurers who, confiding in their sword, conquered for Spain those
vast and rich countries, the possession of which allowed Philip II. to
say at a later date, with truth, that the sun never set on his states.
The Soto-Mayors have spread over the whole of South America; in Peru,
Chili, and Mexico, branches of this powerful family are found, who,
after the conquest, settled in these countries, which they have not
quitted since. This has not prevented them, however, from keeping up
relations which have ever enabled them to assist each other, and retain
under all circumstances their power and their wealth.
A Soto-Mayor was for ten years a Viceroy of Peru, and in our time we
have seen a member of this family prime minister and chief of the
cabinet at the Court of Spain.
When the American Colonies raised the standard of revolt against the
Peninsula, Don Juan de Dios, although already aged and father of a
family, was one of the first who responded to the appeal of their new
country, and ranged themselves under its banner at the head of all the
forces and all the servants they could collect.
He had fought the War of Independence as a brave soldier, and had
endured courageously, and, before all, philosophically, the numerous
privations which he had been compelled to accept.
Appointed a general when Spain, at length constrained to recognise the
nationality of her old colonies, gave up the struggle, he retired to
one of his estates, a few leagues from Valparaíso, and there he lived
in the midst of his family, who loved and respected him, like a country
gentlemen, resting from his fatigues and awaiting his last hours with
the calmness of mind of a man convinced that he has done his duty, and
for whom death is a reward rather than a punishment.
Laying aside all political anxieties, devoid of ambition, and
possessing an immense fortune, he had devoted himself to the education
of his three children, Inez, Maria, and Juanito. Inez and Maria were
two maidens whose beauty promised to equal that of their mother, Doña
Isabel de Costafuentes. Maria, the younger, according to the custom
prevalent in Chilian families, was forced into a convent in order to
augment the dowry of her sister Inez, who was nearly sixteen, and only
awaited Maria's taking the veil to solemnize her own marriage.
Juanito, the eldest of the three, was five-and-twenty; he was a
handsome and worthy young man, who, following his father's example,
entered the army, and was serving with the rank of Major.
It was eight in the evening, and the whole family, assembled in the
garden, were quietly conversing, while enjoying the fresh air after a
stifling day.
The weather seemed inclined to be stormy, heavy black clouds coursed
athwart the sky, and the hollow moaning of the wind could be heard
amid the distant mountains; the moon, half veiled, only spread a vague
and uncertain light, and at times a splendid flash tore the horizon,
illumining the space with a fantastic reflection.
"Holy Virgin!" Inez said, addressing the general, "only see, father,
how quickly the flashes succeed each other."
"My dear child," the old gentleman answered affectionately, "if I may
believe certain wounds, which are a barometer for me, we shall have a
terrible storm tonight, for they cause me intense suffering."
And the general passed his hand along his leg, while the conversation
was continued by the rest.
Don Juan de Soto-Mayor was at this period sixty-two years of age; he
was a man of tall stature, rather thin, whose irreproachable demeanour
evidenced dignity and nobility; his grey hair, abundantly on the
temples, formed a crown round the top of his head, which was bald.
"Oh! I do not like storms," the young lady continued.
"You must say an orison for travellers, Inez."
"Am I to be counted among the number of travellers, señorita?"
interrupted a dashing cavalier, dressed in a splendid military uniform,
and who, carelessly leaning against an orange tree, was gazing at Inez
with eyes full of love.
"You, Don Pedro; why so?" the latter said eagerly, as she gave a pout
of adorable meaning. "You are not travelling."
"That is true, señorita; at least, not at this moment, but--"
"What Colonel!" Don Juan said, "are you returning to Santiago?"
"Shortly, sir. Ah! you served at a good time, general; you fought, at
any rate, while we parade soldiers are fit for nothing now."
"Do not complain, my friend; you have your good moments too, and the
war which you wage is at times more cruel than ours."
"Oh!" Inez exclaimed, with a tremor in her voice, "do not feel annoyed,
Don Pedro, at your inaction; I fear lest those wicked Indians may begin
again at any moment."
"Reassure yourself, Niña, the Araucanos are quiet, and we shall not
hear anything of them for a long time; the last lesson they received
will render them prudent, I hope."
"May heaven grant it!" the young lady remarked, as she crossed herself
and raised her eyes to heaven; "But I doubt it."
"Come, come," the general exclaimed, gaily, "hold your tongue, little
girl, and instead of talking about such serious things, try to be more
amiable to the poor colonel, whom you take a pleasure in tormenting."
Inez pretended not to hear the words which her father had just said to
her, and turning to her mother, who, seated by her side, was talking to
her son in a low voice.
"Mamita," she said, coaxingly, "do you know that I am jealous of you?"
"Why so, Inez?" the good lady asked.
"Because, ever since dinner you have confiscated Juanito, and kept him
so closely to you that it has been impossible for me to tease him once
the whole evening."
"Have patience, my pet," the young man said, as he rose and leaned over
the back of her chair; "you will make up for lost time; besides, we
were talking about you."
"About me! Oh, brother, make haste and tell me what you were saying."
And the girl clapped her little childish hands together, while her eyes
were lighted up by curiosity.
"Yes," said Don Juanito, maliciously; "we were talking about your
approaching marriage with my friend, Colonel Don Pedro Sallazar."
"Fie! you naughty fellow," Inez said, with a mocking smile; "you always
try to cause me pain."
While saying these words, the coquette shot a killing glance in the
direction of the colonel.
"What! cause you pain!" her brother answered: "is not the marriage
arranged?"
"I do not say no."
"Must it not be concluded when our sister Maria has pronounced her
vows?"
"Poor Maria!" Inez said, with a sigh, but quickly resumed her usual
good spirits.
"That is true; but they are not yet pronounced, as my dear Maria will
be with us shortly."
"They will be so within three months at the most."
"Ah!" she exclaimed lightly, "before then the donkey and its driver
will die, as the proverb says."
"My daughter," the general remarked, gravely, "the colonel holds your
word, and what you have just said is wrong."
The girl blushed: two transparent tears sparkled on her long lashes;
she rose quickly, and ran to embrace her father.
"Forgive me, father; I am a madcap."
Then she turned to the colonel, and offered him her hand.
"And do you also forgive me, Don Pedro? For I did not think of what I
was saying."
"That is right," the general exclaimed; "peace is made, and I trust
that nothing will disturb it in future."
"Thanks for the kind wish," said the colonel, as he covered with kisses
the hand which Inez abandoned to him.
"Oh, oh!" Don Juan remarked, "here is the storm; let us be off."
In fact, the lightning flashed uninterruptedly, and heavy drops of rain
began beating on the foliage which the gusts continued to agitate.
All began running toward the house, and were soon collected in the
drawing room.
In Europe it is difficult to form an idea of the magnificence and
wealth which American houses contain; for gold and silver, so precious
and so rare with us, are profusely employed in Chili, Peru, and the
entire southern region.
The description of the room in which the Soto-Mayor family sought
refuge will give a sketch of what is called comfort in these countries,
with which it is impossible for us to contend, as concerns everything
that relates to splendour and veritable luxury.
It was a large octagonal room, containing rosewood furniture inlaid
with ebony; the floor was covered with mats of Guayaquil straw of a
fabulous price; the locks of the doors and window fastenings were of
massive silver; mirrors of the height of the room reflected the light
of pink wax candles, arranged in gold candelabra enriched with precious
stones; and on the white and gold damask, covering the space below the
looking glass, hung masterpieces of art signed by the leaders of the
Spanish and Italian schools.
On the credence tables and whatnots, so deliciously carved that they
seemed made of lacework, were arranged China ornaments of exquisite
workmanship--trifles created to excite for a moment the pleasure of the
eye, and whose manufacture had been a prodigy of patience, perfection,
and invention. These thousand nothings,--on which glistened oriental
gems, mother-o'-pearl, ivory, enamel, jasper, and all the products
of the mineral kingdom, combined and mingled with fragrant woods;
feathers, &c.,--would of themselves have absorbed a European fortune,
owing to their inestimable value.
The lustre of the crystal girandoles, casting multicoloured fires, and
the rarest flowers which grew down over enormous Japanese vases, gave a
fairy like aspect to the apartment; and yet, of all those who had come
there to seek shelter from the bad weather, there was not one who did
not consider it quite usual.
The conversation interrupted in the garden had just been recommenced
indoors, when a ring of the visitor's bell was heard.
"Who can arrive so late?" the general asked; "I am not expecting
anybody."
The door opened, and a servant appeared.
"Mi amo," he said, after bowing respectfully; "two travellers,
surprised by the storm, ask leave to take shelter in the house."
At the same time a vivid flash rendered the candles pale, and a
tremendous peal of thunder burst forth. The ladies uttered a cry of
alarm, and crossed themselves.
"Santa Virgin!" Señora Soto-Mayor exclaimed, "do not receive them, for
these strangers might bring us some misfortune."
"Silence, madam," the old gentleman answered; "the house of a Spanish
noble must ever be open to the unfortunate."
And he left the room, followed by the domestic. The Señora hung her
head at her husband's reproach, but being enthralled by superstition,
she kept her eyes anxiously fixed on the door through which the
strangers would enter. In a few minutes the general re-appeared,
conducting Delbès and Diego el Vaquero.
"This house is yours, gentlemen; enter, in Heaven's name;" he said to
them, affably.
Leon bowed gracefully to the ladies, then to the two officers, and
thanked the general for his cordial reception.
"So long as you deign to honour my poor house with your presence,
gentlemen," the latter replied, courteously, "we are entirely at your
service; and if it please you to drink maté with us, we shall feel
flattered."
"I accept your proposal, sir, with thanks."
Diego contented himself with nodding his head in the affirmative; the
general rang, and ordered the maté. A minute later, a butler came in,
carrying a massive gold salver, on which were arranged exquisitely
carved maté cups, each supplied with an amber tube. In the midst of
the cups were a silver coffeepot full of water, and a sandalwood box
containing the leaves. On golden saucers were piled regalias, and husk
and paper cigarettes.
The butler placed the salver on a table to which the company sat
down, and he then retired. After this, Señora Soto-Mayor prepared
the decoction, poured the burning liquid into the cups, and placed
them before the guests. Each took the one within reach, and was soon
drawing up the maté, while observing deep silence and sitting in a
contemplative attitude. The Chilians are very fond of this beverage,
which they have borrowed from the Indians, and they display some degree
of solemnity when they proceed to drink it.
When the first mouthfuls had been swallowed, the conversation began
again. Leon took a husk cigarette from one of the saucers, unrolled it,
rubbed the tobacco for a moment in the palm of his hand, then remade
it with the consummate skill of the inhabitants of the country, lit it
at the flame of a small gold lamp prepared for the purpose, and, after
taking two or three whiffs, politely offered the cigarette to Doña
Inez, who accepted it with a gracious smile, and placed it between her
rosy lips.
Colonel Don Pedro had not seen the Frenchman's action without a certain
twinge of jealousy; but at the moment when he was about to light the
cigarette which he held in his hand, Inez offered him the one Leon had
given her, and which she had half smoked, saying--
"Shall we change, Don Pedro?"
The colonel gladly accepted the exchange proffered to him, gave his
cigarette to the young lady, and took hers, which he smoked with
rapture.
Diego, even since his arrival at the house, had not once opened his
lips; his face had grown clouded, and he sat with his eyes fixed on the
general, whom he observed askance with an indefinable expression of
hatred and passion.
Leon knew not to what he should attribute this silence, and felt
alarmed at his comrade's strange behaviour, which might be noticed by
the company, and produce an unpleasant effect in their minds.
Inez laughed and prattled merrily, and several times in listening to
her voice Leon was struck by a vague resemblance to another voice
he had heard, though he was unable to call to mind under what
circumstances he had done so. Then on scrutinizing Señora Soto-Mayor's
features, he thought he could detect a resemblance with someone he
knew, but he could not remember who it was.
Believing himself the dupe of an illusion, he had to get rid of the
notion of explaining to himself a resemblance which probably only
existed in his imagination; then, all at once, on hearing a remark that
fell from Inez's lips, he turned to recognise an intonation familiar to
his ears, which plunged his mind once more into the same perplexity.
"Madre," said Inez to her mother, "Don Pedro informs me that his sister
Rosita will take the veil at the convent of the Purísima Concepción on
the same day as my beloved Maria."
"They are, indeed, of the same age," the Señora replied.
Leon started, and could not repress an exclamation.
"What is the matter, Caballero?" the general asked.
"Nothing, general; merely a spark from my cigarette that fell in my
poncho," Leon replied, with visible embarrassment.
"The storm is lulling," Diego said, at length emerging from his
silence; "and I believe that we can set out again."
"Can you think of such a thing, my guests? Certainly not; the roads are
too bad for me to let you depart. Besides, your room is prepared, and
your horses are resting in the corral."
Diego was about to refuse, but Leon did not allow him the time.
"Since you wish it, general, we will pass the night beneath your roof."
Diego was obliged to accept. Moreover, in spite of what he stated, the
storm, instead of lulling, redoubled its intensity; but it could be
seen that the Vaquero obeyed against his will the necessity in which
he found himself of remaining, and that he experienced an invincible
repugnance in submitting to it.
The evening passed without any further incident, and about ten o'clock,
after prayers had been read, at which all the servants were present,
they separated.
The general had the two smugglers conducted to their bedroom by a peon,
after kindly wishing them good night, and making them promise not to
leave his house the next morning without wishing him good-bye, Leon and
Diego thanked him for the last time, and so soon as they reached their
apartment, dismissed the servant, for they were eager to cross-question
each other.