"_Amigo_," said their host, as he rejoined them, speaking to Kearney,
who could alone understand him, "permit me to offer you a cigar--your
comrade also--with my apologies for having forgotten that you smoked.
Here are both Havannahs and Manillas, several brands of each. So choose
for yourself."
The mayor-domo, who attended him, carrying a huge mahogany case, had
already placed it upon one of the rustic benches, and laid open the lid.
"Thanks, holy father," responded Kearney, with a peculiar smile. "If
you have no objection, I'll stick to the Imperadoes. After smoking one
of them a man need have no difficulty as to choice."
At which he took an "Emperor" out of the case.
"I'm glad you like them," observed the generous donor, helping him to a
light. "They ought to be of good quality, considering what they cost,
and where they come from. But, Don Florencio, don't let the question of
expense hinder you smoking as many as you please. My outlay on them was
_nil_--they were a contribution to the monastery, though not exactly a
charitable one."
He said this with a sort of inward laugh, as though some strange history
attached to the Imperadoes.
"A forced contribution, then," thought the Irishman, the remark having
made a strange, and by no means pleasant impression upon him.
The Texan had not yet touched the cigars, and when with a gesture the
invitation was extended to him, he hung back, muttering to Kearney--
"Tell him, Cap, I'd purfar a pipe ef he ked accomerdate me wi' thet 'ere
article."
"What says the Senor Cristoforo?" asked the Abbot.
"He'd prefer smoking a pipe, if you don't object, and there be such a
thing convenient."
"Oh! _un pipa_. I shall see. Gregorio!"
He called after the mayor-domo, who was returning toward the house.
"Never mind, reverend Father," protested Kearney; "content yourself with
a cigar, Cris, and don't give trouble."
"I'm sorry I spoke o' it," said the Texan. "I oughter be only too gled
to git a seegar, an' it may be he wudn't mind my chawin', stead o'
smokin' it! My stammuck feels starved for a bit o' bacca. What
wouldn't I gie jest now for a plug o' Jeemes's River!"
"There, take one of the cigars and eat it if you like; I'm sure he'll
have no objection."
Availing himself of the leave thus vicariously accorded the Texan picked
out one of the largest in the collection, and, biting off about a third,
commenced crunching it between his teeth, as though it was a piece of
sugar-stick. This to the no small amusement of the Mexican, who,
however, delicately refrained from making remark.
Nor was Cris hindered from having a smoke as well as a "chew,"--the
mayor-domo soon after appearing with a pipe, a somewhat eccentric affair
he had fished out from the back regions of the establishment.
Meanwhile their host had himself lit one of the "Emperors," and was
smoking away like a chimney. A somewhat comical sight at any time, or
in any place, is a monk with a cigar in his mouth. But that the Abbot
of the Cerro Ajusco was no anchorite they were already aware, and saw
nothing in it to surprise them.
Seating himself beside Kearney, with face turned towards the valley, he
put the question--
"What do you think of that landscape, Don Florencio?"
"Magnificent! I can't recall having looked upon lovelier, or one with
greater variety of scenic detail. It has all the elements of the
sublime and beautiful."
The young Irishman was back in his college classics with his countryman
Burke.
"Make use of this," said the Abbot, offering a small telescope which he
drew out. "'Twill give you a better view of things."
Taking the glass and adjusting it to his sight, Kearney commenced making
survey of the valley, now bringing one portion of it within the field of
telescopic vision, then another.
"Can you see the Pedregal?" asked the Abbot. "It's close in to the
mountain's foot. You'll recognise it by its sombre grey colour."
"Certainly I see it," answered the other, after depressing the
telescope. "And the thicket we came through on its further side--quite
distinctly."
"Look to the right of that, then you'll observe a large house, standing
in the middle of the maguey fields. Have you caught it?"
"Yes; why do you ask?"
"Because that house has an interest for me--a very special one. Whom do
you suppose it belongs to; or I should rather say did, and ought to
belong to?"
"How should I know, holy father?" asked Kearney, thinking it somewhat
strange his being so interrogated. "True," responded the Abbot; "how
could you, my son? But I'll tell you. That _magueyal_ is mine by
right, though by wrong 'tis now the property of our late host, the
Governor of the Acordada. His reward at the last confiscation for
basely betraying his country and our cause."
"What cause?" inquired the young Irishman, laying aside the glass, and
showing more interest in what he heard than that he had been looking at.
Country and cause! These were not the words likely to be on the lips
of either monk or highwayman.
And that the man who had spoken to him was neither one nor other he had
fuller proof in what was now further said.
"A cause, Senor Irlandes, for which I, Ruperto Rivas, am ready to lay
down life, if the sacrifice be called for, and so most--I may say all--
of those you've just met at _almuerzo_. You heard it proclaimed in the
toast, `Patria y Libertad!'"
"Yes. And a grand noble sentiment it is. One I was gratified to hear."
"And surprised as well. Is not that so, _amigo_?"
"Well, to be frank with you, holy father, I confess to something of the
sort."
"Not strange you should, my son. No doubt you're greatly perplexed at
what you've seen and heard since you came up here, with much before.
But the time has come to relieve you; so light another cigar and
listen."