Soon as the aide-de-camp had closed the door behind him, Santa Anna
sprang up from his seat and hastily stumped it to a large cheval glass
which stood on one side of the room. Squaring himself before this he
took survey of his person from crown to toes. He gave a pull or two at
his moustaches, twisting their points, and turning them upward along his
cheeks. Then running his fingers comb-like through his hair, he gave
that also a jaunty set. In fine, straightening himself in his
gold-braided uniform frock, with a last glance down to his feet--this
resulting in a slight grimace--he returned to the state chair and
reseated himself.
With all his gallantry and politeness--and to these he made much
pretension--it was not his custom to receive lady visitors standing. In
the upright attitude the artificial leg made him look stiff, and he
preferred stowing it away under the table. Besides, there was his
dignity, as the grand figure-head of the nation, which he now wished to
have its full effect. Leaning forward, he gave a downward blow to the
spring of the table bell; then assuming an attitude of expectant
grandeur, sate expectant. This time the aide-de-camp required no
passing to and fro; and the door again opening, the ladies were ushered
into the august presence.
In their air and manner they betrayed agitation too, while the serious
expression upon their features told they were there on no trivial
errand.
"Pray be seated, ladies," said the Dictator, after exchanging
salutations with them. "'Tis not often the Condesa Almonte honours the
Palacio with her presence, and for the Senorita Valverde, were it not
for official relations with her father, I fear we should see even less
of her than we do."
While speaking he pointed to a couple of couch chairs that stood near
the table.
They sat down rather hesitatingly, and slightly trembling. Not that
either would have been at all timid had the occasion been a common one.
Both were of Mexico's best blood, the Condesa one of the old _noblesse_
who hold their heads higher even than the political chief of the State,
when he chances to be--as more than once has occurred--an adventurer of
humbler birth. Therefore, it was not any awe of the great dignitary
that now unnerved them, but the purpose for which they were seeking
speech with him. Whether Santa Anna guessed it, or not, could not be
told by his looks. An experienced diplomatist, he could keep his
features fixed and immovable as the Sphinx, or play them to suit the
time and the tune. So, after having delivered himself, as above, with
the blandest of smiles upon his face, he remained silent, awaiting the
rejoinder.
It was the Condesa who made it.
"Your Excellency," she said, doing her utmost to look humble; "we have
come to beg a favour from you."
A gratified look, like a gleam of light, illuminated Santa Anna's
swarthy features. Ysabel Almonte begging favours from him! What better
could he have wished? With all his command of features he but
ill-concealed the triumph he now felt. It flashed up in his eyes as he
said respondingly--
"A favour you would ask? Well, if it be within my power to grant it,
neither the Condesa Almonte, nor the Dona Luisa Valverde need fear
refusal. Be frank, then, and tell me what it is."
The Countess, with all her courage, still hesitated to declare it. For
despite the ready promise of compliance, she did fear a refusal; since
it had been asked for that same morning and though not absolutely
refused, the answer left but little hope of its being conceded.
As is known, at an earlier hour Don Ignacio had paid a visit to the
Palacio, to seek clemency for a prisoner-of-war, Florence Kearney. But
pardon for a state prisoner was also included in his application--that
being Ruperto Rivas. Of all this the ladies were well aware, since it
was at their instigation, and through their importunity, he had acted.
It was only, therefore, by the urgency of a despairing effort, as a
_dernier ressort_, these had now sought the presence as petitioners, and
naturally they dreaded denial. Noting the Condesa's backwardness--a
thing new but not displeasing to him, since it gave promise of influence
over her--Santa Anna said interrogatively:
"Might this favour, as you are pleased to term it, have ought to do with
a request lately made to me by Don Ignacio Valverde?"
"'Tis the same, your Excellency," answered the Countess, at length
recovering spirit, but still keeping up the air of meek supplication she
had assumed.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the Dictator, adding, "that grieves me very much."
He made an attempt to look sorry, though it needed none for him to
appear chagrined. This he was in reality, and for reasons intelligible.
Here were two ladies, both of whom he had amatory designs upon, each
proclaiming by her presence--as it were telling him to his teeth, the
great interest she felt in another--that or she would not have been
there!
"But why, Excellentissimo?" asked the Countess, entreatingly. "What is
there to grieve you in giving their freedom to two men--gentlemen,
neither of whom has been guilty of crime, and who are in prison only for
offences your Excellency can easily pardon?"
"Not so easily as you think, Condesa. You forget that I am but official
head of the State, and have others to consult--my Ministers and the
Congress--in affairs of such magnitude. Know, too, that both these men
for whom you solicit pardon have been guilty of the gravest offences;
one of them, a foreigner, an enemy of our country, taken in arms against
it; the other, I am sorry to say, a citizen, who has become a rebel, and
worse still, a robber!"
"'Tis false!" exclaimed the Countess, all at once changing tone, and
seeming to forget the place she was in and the presence. "Don Ruperto
Rivas is no robber; never was, nor rebel either; instead, the purest of
patriots!"
Never looked Ysabel Almonte lovelier than at that moment--perhaps never
woman. Her spirit roused, cheeks red, eyes sparkling with indignation,
attitude erect--for she had started up from her chair--she seemed to be
the very impersonation of defiance, angry, but beautiful. No longer
meek or supplicating now. Instinct or intuition told her it would be of
no use pleading further, and she had made up her mind for the worst.
The traits of beauty which her excitement called forth, added piquancy
to her natural charms, and inflamed Santa Anna's wicked passions all the
more. But more than any of them revenge. For now he knew how much the
fair petitioner was interested in the man whose suit she had preferred.
With a cold cynicism--which, however, cost him an effort--he rejoined:
"That, perhaps, is your way of thinking, Condesa. But it remains to be
proved--and the prisoner you speak of shall have an opportunity of
proving it--with his innocence in every respect. That much I can
promise you. The same for him," he added, turning to Luisa Valverde,
"in whom, if I mistake not, the Dona Luisa is more especially
interested. These _gentlemen_ prisoners shall have a fair trial, and
justice done them. Now, ladies! can you ask more of me?"
They did not; both seeing it would be to no purpose. Equally
purposeless to prolong the interview; and they turned toward the door,
the daughter of Don Ignacio leading where she had before followed.
This was just as Santa Anna wished it. Seemingly forgetful of his
cork-leg, and the limp he took such pains to conceal, he jerked himself
out of his chair and hurried after--on a feigned plea of politeness.
Just in time to say to the Countess in a hurried, half-whisper:--
"If the Condesa will return, and prefer her request _alone_, it may meet
with more favour."
The lady passed on, with head held disdainfully, as though she heard but
would not heed. She did hear what he said, and it brought a fresh flush
upon her cheek, with another flash of anger in her eyes. For she could
not mistake his meaning, and knew it was as the serpent whispering into
the ear of Eve.