Dawn was just beginning to show over the eastern _Cordilleras_, its
aurora giving a rose tint to the snowy cone of Popocatepec, as the
Hussars passed back through San Augustin. The bells of the _paroquia_
had commenced tolling matins, and many people abroad in the streets,
hurrying toward the church, saw them--interrogating one another as to
where they had been, and on what errand bound.
But before entering the _pueblo_ they had to pass under the same eyes
that observed them going outward on the other side; these more keenly
and anxiously scrutinising them now, noting every file as it came in
sight, every individual horseman, till the last was revealed; then
lighting up with joyous sparkle, while they, thus observing, breathed
freely.
For the soldiers had come as they went, not a man added to their number,
if none missing, but certainly no prisoners brought back!
"They've got safe off," triumphantly exclaimed the Countess, when the
rearmost files had forged past, "as I told you they would. I knew there
was no fear after they had been warned."
That they had been warned both were by this aware, their messenger
having meanwhile returned and reported to that effect. He had met the
Hussars on their way up, but crouching among some bushes, he had been
unobserved by them; and, soon as they were well out of the way, slipped
out again and made all haste home.
He had brought back something more than a mere verbal message--a
_billetita_ for each of the two who had commissioned him.
The notes were alike, in that both had been hastily scribbled, and in
brief but warm expression of thanks for the service done to the writers.
Beyond this, however, they were quite different. It was the first
epistle Florence Kearney had ever indited to Luisa Valverde, and ran in
fervid strain. He felt he could so address her. With love long in
doubt that it was even reciprocated, but sure of its being so now, he
spoke frankly as passionately. Whatever his future, she had his heart,
and wholly. If he lived, he would seek her again at the peril of a
thousand lives; if it should be his fate to die, her name would be the
last word on his lips.
"_Virgen Santissima_! Keep him safe!" was her prayer, as she finished
devouring the sweet words; then, refolding the sheet on which they were
written, secreted it away in the bosom of her dress--a treasure more
esteemed than aught that had ever lain there.
The communication received by the Condesa was less effusive, and more to
the point of what, under present circumstances, concerned the writer,
as, indeed, all of them. Don Ruperto wrote with the confidence of a
lover who had never known doubt. A man of rare qualities, he was true
to friendship as to his country's cause, and would not be false to love.
And he had no fear of her. His _liens_ with Ysabel Almonte were such
as to preclude all thought of her affections ever changing. He knew
that she was his--heart, soul, everything. For had she not given him
every earnest of it, befriended him through weal and through woe? Nor
had he need to assure her that her love was reciprocated, or his fealty
still unfaltering; for their faith, as their reliance, was mutual. His
letter, therefore, was less that of a lover to his mistress than one
between man and man, written to a fellow-conspirator, most of it in
figurative phrase, even some of it in cypher!
No surprise to her all that; she understood the reason. Nor was there
any enigma in the signs and words of double signification; without
difficulty she interpreted them all.
They told her of the anticipated rising, with the attempt to be made on
Oaxaca, the hopes of its having a success, and, if so, what would come
after. But also of something before this--where he, the writer, and his
Free Lances would be on the following night, so that if need arose she
could communicate with him. If she had apprehension of danger to him,
he was not without thought of the same threatening herself and her
friend too.
Neither were they now; instead, filled with such apprehension. In view
of what had occurred on the preceding evening, and throughout the night,
how could they be other? The dwarf must know more than he had revealed
in that dialogue overheard by Jose. In short, he seemed aware of
everything--the _cochero's_ complicity as their own. The free surrender
of their watches and jewellery for the support of the escaped prisoners
were of itself enough to incriminate them. Surely there would be
another investigation, more rigorous than before, and likely to have a
different ending.
With this in contemplation, their souls full of fear, neither went that
morning to matins. Nor did they essay to take sleep or rest. Instead,
wandered about the house from room to room, and out into the grounds,
seemingly distraught.
They had the place all to themselves; no one to take counsel with, none
to comfort them; Don Ignacio, at an early hour, having been called off
to his duties in the city. But they were not destined to spend the
whole of that day without seeing a visitor. As the clocks of San
Augustin were striking 8 p.m. one presented himself at the gate in the
guise of an officer of Hussars, Don Carlos Santander. Nor was he alone,
but with an escort accompanying. They were seated in the verandah of
the inner court, but saw him through the _saguan_, the door of which was
open, saw him enter at the outer gate, and without dismounting come on
towards them, several files of his men following. He had been
accustomed to visit them there, and they to receive his visits, however
reluctantly, reasons of many kinds compelling them. But never had he
presented himself as now. It was an act of ill-manners his entering
unannounced, another riding into the enclosure with soldiers behind him;
but the rudeness was complete when he came on into the _patio_ still in
the saddle, his men too, and pulled up directly in front of them,
without waiting for word of invitation. The stiff, formal bow, the
expression upon his swarthy features, severe, but with ill-concealed
exultation in it, proclaimed his visit of no complimentary kind.
By this both were on their feet, looking offended, even angry, at the
same time alarmed. And yet little surprised, for it was only
confirmation of the fear that had been all day oppressing them--its very
fulfilment. But that they believed it this they would have shown their
resentment by retiring and leaving him there. As it was, they knew that
would be idle, and so stayed to hear what he had to say. It was--
"_Senoritas_, I see you're wondering at my thus presenting myself. Not
strange you should. Nor could any one more regret the disagreeable
errand I've come upon than I. It grieves me sorely, I assure you."
"What is it, Colonel Santander?" demanded the Countess, with
_sang-froid_ partially restored.
"I hate to declare it, Condesa," he rejoined, "still more to execute it.
But, compelled by the rigorous necessities of a soldier's duty, I
must."
"Well, sir; must what?"
"Make you a prisoner; and, I am sorry to add, also the Dona Luisa."
"Oh, that's it!" exclaimed the Countess, with a scornful inclination of
the head. "Well, sir, I don't wonder at your disliking the duty, as you
say you do. It seems more that of a policeman than a soldier."
The retort struck home, still further humiliating him in the eyes of the
woman he loved, Luisa Valverde. But he now knew she loved not him, and
had made up his mind to humble her in a way hitherto untried. Stung by
the innuendo, and dropping his clumsy pretence at politeness, he
spitefully rejoined--
"Thank you, Condesa Almonte for your amiable observation. It does
something to compensate me for having to do policeman's duty. And now
let it be done. Please to consider yourself under arrest; and you also,
Senorita Valverde."
Up to this time the last named lady had not said a word, the distress
she was in restraining her. But as mistress there, she saw it was her
turn to speak, which she did, saying--
"If we are your prisoners, Colonel Santander, I hope you will not take
us away from here till my father comes home. As you may be aware, he's
in the city."
"I am aware of that, Dona Luisa, and glad to say my orders enable me to
comply with your wishes, and that you remain here till Don Ignacio
returns. I'm enjoined to see to your safe keeping--a very absurd
requirement, but one which often falls to the lot of the soldier as well
as the _policeman_."
Neither the significant words nor the forced laugh that accompanied them
had any effect on her for whom they were intended. With disdain in her
eyes, such as a captive queen might show for the common soldier who
stood guard over her, the Condesa had already turned her back upon the
speaker and was walking away. With like proud air, but less confident
and scornful, Luisa Valverde followed. Both were allowed to pass
inside, leaving the Hussar colonel to take such measures for their
keeping as he might think fit.
His first step was to order in the remainder of his escort and
distribute them around the house, so that in ten minutes after the _casa
de campo_ of Don Ignacio Valverde bore resemblance to a barrack, with
sentinels at every entrance and corner!