Don Estevan and Cuchillo, on leaving the ground of the combat, returned
to the alley of granadines; but for some time not a word passed between
them. Don Estevan was buried in a profound meditation. More skilled
than his coarse companion in the mysteries of the female heart, he had
divined, before the end of the dialogue between Rosarita and Tiburcio,
that the young girl felt for the latter a tender sentiment. It was true
it was just germinating in her soul; but the accents of her voice, her
gestures, and other signs, discovered to the experienced intelligence of
Don Estevan that she really loved Tiburcio, though herself not yet aware
of the extent of that love.
For Tiburcio knowing the secret of the Golden Valley, Don Estevan cared
little--that was a matter of secondary importance; but Tiburcio's love
reciprocated by Dona Rosarita was a very different affair. This at once
presented a series of obstacles to the ambitious projects of the
Spaniard. Tiburcio then must be got out of the way at all hazards, and
at any price. Such are the terrible exigencies of ambition.
It only remained to adopt some plan; but the Spaniard was not then in
the spirit to think of one. He was writhing at the inadvertence that
had just happened.
"The clumsy fool!" he muttered, but loud enough for his companion to
hear him.
"Is it of me your excellency is speaking?" inquired Cuchillo, in a tone
that savoured strongly of his usual impudence.
"Who else could I mean, you sot? You who neither know how to use
strength or stratagem! A woman has accomplished what you could not do!
I have told you that this child is a giant to you; and had it not been
for me--"
"Had it not been for you," interrupted the outlaw, "this young fellow
would not now have been living to trouble us."
"How sir?" demanded Don Estevan.
"Last night, as I was bringing him to your bivouac, the fellow did an
outrage to my honour, and actually threatened me. I was about putting
an end to our differences by a shot from my carbine, when your precious
old fool of a servant, Benito, came galloping up, and of course I had to
renounce my design. So you see, the only good action I have ever done,
has brought me to grief. Such is the reward of our virtue!"
"Speak for yourself, my droll fellow!" said the Spaniard, whose pride
revolted at being thus classed with such company as the outlaw. "But if
that could be outraged which does not exist, may I ask what attempt this
young man made upon your honour?"
"I do not know myself--it was something that happened with my horse, who
has the fault--"
Cuchillo interrupted himself as one who has made an imprudent speech.
"The fault of stumbling in the left fore-leg?" added Don Estevan. "I
see--this old history of the murder of Arellanos."
"I did not murder him," cried the outlaw, impudently. "I had reasons
not to like him; but I pardoned him, for all that."
"Oh! you are so magnanimous! But come, an end to these pleasantries.
It remains for you to get this young man out of the way. I have my
reasons for wishing it so--among others, he knows our secret. I gave
you a half _onza_ to save his life. To-day I have different views
regarding him; and I promise to give you twenty _onzas_ when I am
assured that he is no longer alive."
"Agreed, Don Estevan; and in to-morrow's hunt of these wild horses, it
will be strange if Tiburcio Arellanos don't knock his brains out against
either a rock or the trunk of a tree, or at least get himself into some
corner, where he won't be able to find his way out again. The only
regret I have is, that I shall have to share these twenty onzas with my
friends, Baraja and Oroche."
"To-morrow!" exclaimed Don Estevan; "and who knows but that to-morrow
may be too late? Is the night not better for your purpose? Are you not
three to one? Who is to assure you that to-morrow I may not change my
mind?"
This threat seriously alarmed Cuchillo.
"Carramba! your excellency is quick to decide; you are not one of those
who leave for to-morrow what should be done to-day. _Pues_--then--I
shall try my best. In fact, it is very quiet here--I wonder the cries
of this young woman have not startled the whole house. There's not a
creature about."
Such was in reality the case. Notwithstanding the noise of the struggle
between Tiburcio and his assailants, and later still, the cries of
Rosarita, no one had been awakened. The vast extent of the building
prevented these sounds from being heard, particularly as all the
domestics of the hacienda, as well as the proprietor himself, were
buried in a profound slumber.
Cuchillo now directed himself toward the apartment where he had left his
comrades; Don Estevan returning at the same time to his own chamber.
The moon once more poured her soft, silvery light upon the grove of
oranges, as if no crime had ever been attempted in that tranquil spot.
Don Estevan did not go to rest; but for a long time paced to and fro
across his ample chamber, with the air of one accustomed to watch over
ambitious projects while others were asleep.
After a lapse of time, Cuchillo was heard knocking softly at his door;
and as soon as it was opened, the hired assassin stepped in. His
confused looks caused Don Estevan to tremble. Was the deed already
done? He wished it, yet feared to ask the question. Cuchillo relieved
him from his embarrassment by speaking first.
"My twenty onzas are gone to the devil!" said he, in a lugubrious tone.
"How?" hastily inquired Don Estevan.
"The bird has flown: the young man is no longer about the place."
"Gone!" exclaimed Don Estevan. "And you have let him escape?"
"How could I hinder him? This brute, Baraja, as well as Oroche, were
both drunk with mezcal; and Diaz refused to assist me, point-blank.
While I was endeavouring to arouse the other two, the fellow had taken
leg bail through an opening in the wall of the garden--at least that's
all we can make out."
"And how have you arrived at this conjecture?" asked Don Estevan,
angrily striking the floor with his foot.
"Why, when we arrived at the place, the Dona Rosarita was clinging over
the wall, no doubt guided there by Tiburcio. He could not be far off at
the time, for she was still calling upon him to return; and judging by
the love-speeches she was making, she must have earnestly desired it."
"She loves him, then?"
"Passionately--or her words and her accents are all deceit. `_Come
back_!' she cried, `_Tiburcio, come back_! _I love only you_!' These
were the last words I heard; for shortly after she left the wall, and
went back to her room."
"We must to horse and pursue him!" cried Don Estevan, hurrying to make
ready; "yes, there is no help for it now. The success of our expedition
depends upon the life of this ragged fellow. Go! arouse Benito and the
others. Tell them to saddle the horses. Warn your friends in the
chamber that we must be _en route_ in an hour. Away! while I awake Don
Augustin and the Senator."
"Just as I have known him for twenty years," muttered Cuchillo, as he
hastened to his companions, "always awake, always ready for the greatest
obstacles. Well, if with his character he has not made way in his own
country, I fear that in Europe perseverance and energy are not worth
much."
Don Estevan, as soon as Cuchillo had left him, spent a few minutes in
putting himself once more in travelling costume, and then repaired to
the chamber of the Senator. He found the door open--as is the custom in
a country where people spend most of their lives outside their houses.
The moon was beaming full through the large window, and her light
illumined the chamber as well as the couch upon which the Senator was
sleeping.
"What is it, Don Estevan?" cried the Senator, suddenly leaping up in his
bed; "Senor Estevan, I should say." Tragaduros had been dreaming of the
court of the King of Spain. "What is it, your grace?"
"I come to take leave of you, and to give you my final instructions."
"Eh! what?" said the Senator. "Is the hour late? or have I been three
days asleep?"
"No," gravely replied the Spaniard, "but there is a serious danger that
menaces our projects--both yours and mine. This young rustic, whom we
found on the road, knows all about the Golden Valley; and what is still
worse, he loves Dona Rosarita, and Dona Rosarita loves him."
Tragaduros, instead of starting up at this announcement, sank back upon
his pillow, crying out.
"Adieu then to the million dollars of dowry! adieu to those beautiful
plains covered with horses and cattle, which I already believed my own!
adieu to the honours of the court of _Carlos el Primero_!"
"Come! all is not yet lost," said Don Estevan. "The evil may be
remedied if taken in time. This young fellow has quitted the hacienda.
It will be necessary to follow and find him before he gets out of the
way. So much the worse for him, if his evil star is in opposition to
yours."
The Spaniard said no more of his designs with regard to Tiburcio. As to
the Senator, it was of little importance to him how he was to be
disembarrassed of so dangerous a rival, so long as he himself should not
be troubled with the matter.
"Whatever may be the end of it," added Don Estevan, "one thing is
certain--the young fellow will never be allowed to come back to this
house, for I shall arrange that with Don Augustin. You will therefore
be master of the situation, and will have everything your own way. Make
the young lady love you--it will be easy enough--your rival will be
absent, he may be _dead_--for these deserts are dangerous, and you know
the old proverb about absence?"
"I shall make myself irresistible!" said the Senator, "for since
yesterday I feel as if I was on fire about this lovely creature, who
appears to have come down direct from heaven--and with--such a dowry!"
"No man ever aimed at an object more desirable than this immense dowry
and this fair flower of the desert. Spare no pains, therefore, to win
both the lady and the fortune."
"If necessary I shall spin for her, as Hercules at the feet of Omphale."
"Ha, ha ha!" laughed the Spaniard. "If Hercules had any merits in the
eyes of Omphale, it was not on account of his spinning, but because he
was Hercules. No--do better than spin. To-morrow Don Augustin has a
hunt among his wild steeds; there will be an opportunity for you to
distinguish yourself by some daring exploit. Mount one of the wildest
of the horses, for the honour of the beautiful eyes of Rosarita, and
after having tamed him, ride him up panting into her presence. That
will gain you more grace than handling the thread and distaff _a la
Hercules_."
The Senator responded to these counsels with a sigh: and Don Estevan,
having given him further instructions as to how he was to act during the
absence of the expedition, took leave of him, and repaired to the
chamber of Don Augustin.
The clank of his heavy spurs, as he entered the sleeping apartment of
the haciendado, awoke the latter--who on opening his eyes and seeing his
nocturnal visitor in full riding-costume, cried out:
"What! is it time to set forth upon the chase? I did not know the hour
was so late!"
"No, Don Augustin," replied the Spaniard, "but for me the hour has come
to set forth upon a more serious pursuit than that of wild horses. I
hasten to pursue the enemy of your house--the man who has abused your
hospitality, and who if not captured, may bring ruin upon all our
projects."
"The enemy of my house! the man who has abused my hospitality!" cried
the haciendado, starting up in astonishment, and seizing a long Toledo
rapier that hung by the side of his bed, "Who is the man that has acted
so, Don Estevan?"
"Be calm!" said Don Estevan, smiling inwardly at the contrast exhibited
between the spirit of the haciendado and the pusillanimity of the
Senator. "Be calm! the enemy I speak of is no longer under your roof--
he has fled beyond the reach of your just vengeance."
"But who is he?" impatiently demanded Don Augustin.
"Tiburcio Arellanos."
"What! Tiburcio Arellanos my enemy! I do not believe it. Loyalty and
courage are the characteristics of the young man. I shall never believe
him a traitor."
"He knows the situation of the Golden Valley! Furthermore, he loves
your daughter!"
"Is that all? Why, I was aware of these facts already!"
"Yes, but your daughter loves him--perhaps you were not aware of that
fact?"
Don Estevan here detailed the events that had just transpired, and which
proved that the passion of the young gambusino was reciprocated by
Rosarita.
"Well!" calmly rejoined Don Augustin; "so much the worse for the
Senator!"
This reply could not fail to astonish the Spaniard, and create a feeling
of disappointment.
"Remember," said he, "remember, Don Augustin Pena; that you have engaged
your word--not only to me, not only to Tragaduros, but to a prince of
the blood royal of Spain, from whose brow this apparently simple
incident--the caprice of a young girl--may snatch a crown. Think too of
your country--its future glory and greatness--all dependent on the
promise you have given--"
"Why," interrupted Don Augustin, "why set forth all these
considerations? After my promise has been given, I never retract my
word. But it is only to the Duke de Armada I have engaged myself, and
he alone can free me from that engagement. Are you satisfied with this
assurance?"
"How could I be otherwise?" cried the Spaniard, holding out his hand to
the noble haciendado. "Enough! I have your word, it will be necessary
forme to leave you without farther delay. This young fellow may find
comrades to accompany him to the Golden Valley. There is not a moment,
therefore, to be lost. I must at once proceed to Tubac. Adieu, my
friend, adieu!"
Don Augustin would have risen to accompany his guest to the gates, but
the Spaniard would not permit him, and they parted without farther
ceremony.
When Don Estevan reached the court-yard, his attendants and domestics
were found in readiness to depart. The mules had been packed, and the
_remuda_ collected in charge of the driver. The followers, Cuchillo,
Baraja, Oroche, and Pedro Diaz were already in their saddles--the last
mounted on a magnificent and fiery steed, which told that the generous
haciendado had kept his promise.