Alone in his chamber, Tiburcio awaited impatiently the hour named by
Rosarita. From his window he cast a distracted glance over the plain
that stretched away from the walls of the hacienda. The moon was up in
the heavens, and the road leading to Tubac appeared under her light
shining like a vast ribbon extended through the middle of the forest.
The forest itself appeared asleep; not even a breath stirred the leaves
of the trees, and the only sounds he heard were those caused by the
half-wild herds that wandered through its glades. Now and then the
bellowing of a bull denoted the uneasiness of the animal--perhaps from
the presence of those terrible night robbers, the puma and jaguar.
There was one other sound that reached the ear of Tiburcio, but this
appeared to proceed from some part of the hacienda itself. It was the
tinkling of a mandolin. The hour was appropriate to amorous
reflections, as well as to thoughts of a graver character, and both
presented themselves at that moment to the spirit of Tiburcio. Like all
those whose life has been passed amid the depths of the desert, there
was at the bottom of his heart a certain poetic temperament, at the same
time that his soul exhibited that energetic vigour required by the
dangers which surround such a life of solitude. His present position
then was perfectly appropriate to this double character. His love was
unreciprocated--the coolness of Rosarita, almost assured him of the
painful fact--and some secret presentiment told him that he was
encompassed by enemies.
While thus sadly reflecting on his situation, an object came under his
eyes that attracted his attention. It was the gleam of a fire, which
appeared to be kindled under cover of the forest at no great distance
from the hacienda. The light was partly eclipsed by that of the moon,
but still it could be traced by the greater redness of its rays, as they
trembled mysteriously on the silver foliage of the trees. It denoted
the halting-place of some traveller.
"So near the hacienda!" muttered Tiburcio, in entering upon a new series
of reflections. "What can it mean? Why have these travellers not come
here to demand hospitality? They have certainly some reason for keeping
themselves at a distance? They may be unknown friends to me for heaven
often sends such to those who stand in need of them. Cuchillo, Don
Estevan, and this pompous Senator, all appear to be my enemies and all
are secure under this roof! why might not these travellers, who appear
to shun it for that very reason prove friends to me?"
The hour of rendezvous had at length arrived. Tiburcio took up his
_serape_ and his knife--the last, the only weapon he had--and prepared
to go out from his chamber without making any noise. A fearful conflict
of emotions was passing in his bosom; for he knew that in a few minutes
would be decided the question of his happiness or misery. Before
leaving his chamber, he looked once more through the window in the
direction of the forest fire. It was still gleaming in the same place.
While the lover, with cautious tread and wildly beating heart, was
silently traversing the long gallery, and passing round to that side
upon which opened the window of Rosarita, other scenes were passing
elsewhere that must now be detailed.
Since his arrival at the hacienda, Don Estevan, in presence of the other
guests, had scarce found an opportunity to speak with the _haciendado_
on business that concerned both of them. Only for one moment had they
been alone; and then the Spaniard had briefly related to Don Augustin
the contract he had entered into with Cuchillo. When Don Estevan
mentioned the secret of the Golden Valley, the haciendado appeared to
make a slight gesture, as of disappointment, but their short dialogue
ended abruptly by a promise to return to the subject at a later hour of
the night.
Don Estevan awaited until all the other guests had retired to their
chambers. Then drawing the Senator into the bay of one of the large
windows of the sala, he requested him to look up at the stars that were
shining in all their brilliance in the blue sky above.
"See!" said he, pointing to a particular constellation. "That is the
_Chariot_ that has risen above the eastern horizon. Do you perceive a
single star farther down, which scarce shines through the vapour? That
is the emblem of _your_ star, which at present pale, to-morrow may be in
the ascendant, and gleam more brightly than any of those that compose
the brilliant cortege of the _Chariot_."
"What mean you, Senor Arechiza?"
"I shall tell you presently. Perhaps the hour is nearer than you think
when you may be the future master of this hacienda, by a marriage with
the charming daughter of its present owner, who is to be its heiress.
Come presently to my apartment. The conversation which I am about to
have with Don Augustin must be decisive, and I shall let you know the
result."
With these words the Spaniard and the Senator parted--the heart of the
latter beating at the same time with hope and fear.
Don Estevan now awaited the haciendado, who the moment after came up to
him.
The proprietor of the Hacienda del Venado, as has already been seen, had
given to the Spaniard more than an ordinary welcome. His politeness to
him when in presence of witnesses, was even less respectful than when
the two were alone. On his side Don Estevan appeared to accept the
homage of the other as if it were due to him. There was in his polite
condescension towards the rich proprietor, and in the deference of the
latter towards him, something resembling the relation that might be
supposed to exist between a powerful sovereign and one of his noble
vassals.
It was not until after reiterated requests--orders they might almost be
called--that Don Augustin consented to be seated in the presence of the
other--whereas the Spaniard had flung himself into a _fauteuil_ on the
moment of entering the chamber, and with the most perfect abandon.
The haciendado waited silently for Don Estevan to speak.
"Well, what do you think of your future son-in-law?" inquired the
Spaniard. "I presume you never saw him before?"
"Never," answered Don Augustin. "But if he was even less favoured by
nature than he is, that would make no obstacle to our projects."
"I know him; he only needs to be known to prove that he has in him the
stuff of a gentleman, besides being a senator of the illustrious
congress of Arispe."
The Spaniard pronounced these words with a slight smile of contempt.
"But, senor," continued he, "that is not the difficulty, the important
matter is whether _your daughter_ will find him to her liking."
"My daughter will act according to my wish," said the haciendado.
"But supposing her heart is not free?"
"The heart of Rosarita is free, Senor Don Estevan; how could it be
otherwise--she whose life has been spent in the midst of these deserts?"
"And what about this ragged young fellow, this Tiburcio Arellanos, whom
you appear to know? he is in love with your daughter?"
"I have been made aware of it this very morning."
"If it is only a few hours, then, since you have been apprised of the
secret of his passion, surely that of your daughter cannot have to this
time escaped you?"
"The truth is," answered Don Augustin, smiling, "that I understand
better how to follow the traces of an Indian, and read in the
countenance of a savage his most secret thoughts, than to look into the
heart of a young girl. But I repeat it, I have reason to believe that
my daughter's heart is free of any such affection. I do not apprehend
any difficulty in this regard. I dread an obstacle of a more important
character--I mean an obstacle to the expedition you are about to conduct
into the desert."
Here the haciendado communicated to Don Estevan the particulars which
the monk had gathered at the death-bed of the widow of Arellanos, and
which seemed to produce a strong impression on the Spaniard; but
although the conversation continued for some time longer, I shall not
here detail what was said, but return to the Senator, who with anxious
heart was now awaiting Don Estevan in the apartment which had been
assigned to the latter.