Pedro Diaz speedily roused himself from the deep depression and
astonishment which had for a moment overpowered him.
"According to the rules of war, I am your prisoner," said he, raising
his head, "and I am anxious to know your decision concerning me."
"You are free, Diaz," replied Fabian, "free without conditions."
"Not so! not so!" said the Canadian, quickly interrupting him. "We
must, on the contrary, impose a rigorous condition upon your liberty."
"What is it?" asked the adventurer.
"You have now, in common with us," replied Bois-Rose, "become possessed
of a secret which we have long since known. I have my reasons for
wishing that the knowledge of this secret should expire with those whose
evil destiny makes them acquainted with it. You only," added the
Canadian, "will be an exception to the rule, because a brave man like
yourself should be a slave to his word. I demand, then, before
restoring you your liberty, a promise upon your honour, never to reveal
to human being, the existence of the Golden Valley."
"I never indulged any hope in acquiring this treasure," replied the
noble adventurer, in a melancholy tone, "beyond that of the freedom and
aggrandisement of my country. The sad fate which threatens the man, to
whom I looked for the realisation of my hopes, proves to me that in both
cases I have entertained a delusive dream. Even should all the riches
of the Golden Valley remain forever buried in these deserts, what would
it avail me now? I swear then, and you may rely upon my honour, that I
shall never reveal its existence to a living soul. I shall try to
forget that I have ever, for an instant, beheld it."
"It is well," said Bois-Rose, "you are now free to go."
"Not yet, with your permission," replied the prisoner. "In all that has
taken place, there is a mystery which I do not seek to penetrate--but--"
"Carramba! it is very simple," answered Pepe. "This young man," said
he, pointing to Fabian--
"Not yet, Pepe," replied the latter solemnly, making a sign to the
hunter to postpone his explanations. "In the court of justice which is
about to be convened--in the presence of the Supreme Judge (Fabian
pointed to heaven), by the accusation as well as the defence, all will
become clear to Diaz, if he will remain a short while with us. In the
desert, time is precious; and we must prepare ourselves, by meditation
and silence, for the terrible deed which we are now compelled to
accomplish."
"I am most anxious to obtain permission to stay. I do not know if this
man be innocent or guilty; but, I do know that he is the chief whom I
have freely chosen; and I will remain with him to the last, ready to
defend him against you at the cost of my own life, if he is innocent--
ready to bow before the sentence which condemns him, if he is guilty."
"Be it so," rejoined Fabian. "You shall hear and judge for yourself."
"This man is of noble birth," continued Diaz, sadly, "and he lies yonder
in the dust, bound like the meanest criminal."
"Unloose him, Diaz!" replied Fabian, "but do not endeavour to shield him
from the vengeance which a son must claim for his mother's murderer.
Require from him a promise that he will not attempt to escape; we shall
rely upon you in this matter."
"I pledge my honour that he will not do so," said the adventurer, "nor
would I assist him in the attempt." And Diaz, as he said this,
proceeded towards Don Estevan.
In the mean time Fabian, oppressed by sad and anxious thoughts, seated
himself at some distance, and appeared to deplore his unfortunate
victory.
Pepe turned away his head, and for a while stood as if attentively
observing the mists as they floated above the crests of the mountains.
Bois-Rose reclined in his usual attitude of repose, while his eyes,
expressive of deep anxiety, were centred upon the young man, and his
noble physiognomy seemed to reflect the clouds which gathered upon the
brow of his beloved protege.
Meanwhile Diaz had rejoined the prostrate captive.
Who can guess how many conflicting thoughts crowded upon the mind of the
Spanish nobleman, as he lay upon the ground? His expression retained as
much pride as when in his more prosperous days he had imagined the
possibility of conquering, and bestowing, a throne upon the deposed heir
of the Spanish monarchy. At the sight of Diaz, who, he believed had
abandoned his cause, an expression of deep melancholy came over his
countenance.
"Do you come as an enemy, or a friend, Diaz?" said he. "Are you one of
those who take a secret pleasure in contemplating the humiliation of the
man whom, in the days of his prosperity, you, like others, would have
flattered?"
"I am one of those who flatter only the fallen," replied Diaz, "and who
are not offended by the bitterness of speech which is dictated by great
misfortune."
As he uttered these words, which were confirmed by the dejection of his
manner, Diaz hastened to remove the cords with which the captive's arms
were bound.
"I have given my word that you will not endeavour to escape the fate,
whatever it may be, which awaits you at the hands of these men, into
whose power we have fallen by an unlucky chance. I believe you have not
even thought of flight."
"And you are right, Diaz," replied Don Estevan; "but can you guess what
fate these fellows have reserved for me?"
"They talk of a murder to be avenged, of an accusation, and a judgment."
"A judgment!" replied Don Antonio with a haughty and bitter smile, "they
may assassinate, but they shall never judge me."
"In the former case, I shall die with you," said Diaz, simply, "in the
latter--but of what use is it to speak of that which cannot be? you are
innocent of the crime of which they accuse you?"
"I have a presentiment of the fate which awaits me," replied Don Estevan
without answering the adventurer's interrogation. "A faithful subject
will be lost to his king--Don Carlos the First. But you will carry on
my work? you will restore the prosperity of Sonora. You will return to
the Senator Tragaduros--he knows what he has to do, and you will support
him?"
"Ah!" cried Diaz, sadly, "such a work cannot be attempted but by you.
In your hands I might have proved a powerful instrument; without you I
shall sink into insignificant obscurity. The hope of my country expires
with you."
During this interval, Fabian and Bois-Rose had quitted the spot where
the preceding scenes had so rapidly taken place. They had reached the
base of the pyramid. It was there that the solemn assizes were to be
held, in which Fabian and the Duke de Armada were about to act the parts
of judge and criminal.
Pepe made a sign to Diaz; Don Estevan saw and understood it.
"It is not enough to have remained a prisoner," said Diaz, "you must
meet your fate; the conquered must obey the conqueror--come!"
As Diaz ceased speaking, the Spanish nobleman, armed with the pride
which never deserted him, approached the pyramid with a firm step. Pepe
had rejoined his two companions.
Don Estevan's looks, as he advanced, displayed a dauntless composure
equally removed from bravado or weakness--which won a glance of
admiration from his three enemies--all of them excellent judges of
courage.
Fabian rose and stepped forward to meet his noble prisoner. A few paces
behind, Diaz also advanced--his head bowed low, and his mind oppressed
by gloomy thoughts. Everything in the manner of the conquerors
convinced him that, on this occasion, right would be on the side of
power.
"My Lord of Mediana," said Fabian, as, with head uncovered, he paused a
few steps in advance of the noble Spaniard who had approached him, "you
perceive that I recognise you, and you also know who I am."
The Duke de Armada remained upright and motionless without responding to
his nephew's courtesy.
"I am entitled to keep my head covered in the presence of the King of
Spain; I shall use that privilege with you," he replied; "also I claim
the right of remaining silent when I think proper, and shall now
exercise that right if it please you."
Notwithstanding this haughty reply, the younger son of the Medianas
could not but remember how he, a trembling and weeping child, had,
twenty years before, in the castle of Elanchovi quailed beneath the
glance of the man whom he now presumed to judge.
The timid eaglet had now become the eagle, which, in its turn, held the
prey in its powerful talons.
The glances of the two Medianas crossed like two swords, and Diaz
contemplated, with mingled astonishment and respect, the adopted son of
the gambusino Arellanos, suddenly transformed and raised above the
humble sphere in which he had for an instant known him.
The adventurer awaited the solution of this enigma. Fabian armed
himself with a pride which equalled that of the Duke de Armada.
"As you will," said he, "yet it might be prudent to remember, that here
the right claimed by power is not an empty boast."
"It is true," replied Don Antonio, who, notwithstanding his apparent
resignation, trembled with rage and despair at the total failure of his
hopes. "I ought not to forget that you are doubtless inclined to profit
by this right. I shall answer your question then when I tell you that I
am aware of but one fact concerning you, which is that some demon has
inspired you continually to cast some impediment in the way of the
object I pursue--I know--"
Here rage stifled his utterance.
The impetuous young man listened with a changing countenance to the
words uttered by the assassin of his mother, and whom he even now
suspected was the murderer of his adopted father.
Truly it is the heroism of moderation, at which those who do not know
the slight value attached to human life in the deserts, cannot be
sufficiently astonished--for here law cannot touch the offender--but the
short space of time which had elapsed since Fabian joined Bois-Rose was
sufficient, under the gentle influence of the old hunter, to calm his
feelings immeasurably.
He was no longer the young man whose fiery passions were the instruments
of a vengeance to which he yielded blindly. He had learnt that power
should go hand in hand with justice, and may often be combined with
mercy.
This was the secret of a moderation, hitherto so opposed to his
temperament. It was not, however, difficult to trace, in the changing
expression of his countenance, the efforts he had been compelled to make
to impose a restraint upon his anger.
On his side, the Spanish noble concealed his passion under the mask of
silence.
"So then," resumed Fabian, "you know nothing more of me? You are not
acquainted either with my name or rank? I am nothing more to you than
what I seem?"
"An assassin, perhaps!" replied Mediana, turning his back to Fabian to
show that he did not wish to reply to his question.
During the dialogue which had taken place between these two men of the
same blood, and of equally unconquerable nature, the wood-rangers had
remained at some distance.
"Approach," said Fabian to the ex-carabinier, "and say," added he, with
forced calmness, "what you know of me to this man whose lips have dared
to apply to me a name which he only deserves."
If any doubt could still have remained upon Don Estevan's mind with
regard to the intentions of those into whose hands he had fallen, that
doubt must have disappeared when he beheld the gloomy air with which
Pepe came forward in obedience to Fabian's command.
The visible exertion he made to repress the rancorous feelings which the
sight of the Spanish noble aroused in him, filled the latter with a sad
presentiment.
A shudder passed through the frame of Don Estevan, but he did not lower
his eyes, and by the aid of his invincible pride, he waited with
apparent calmness until Pepe began to speak.
"Carramba!" exclaimed the latter in a tone which he tried in vain to
render agreeable. "It was certainly worth while to send me to catch
sea-fish upon the borders of the Mediterranean, so that, at the end of
my journey, I might, three thousand leagues from Spain, fall in with the
nephew whose mother you murdered. I don't know whether Don Fabian de
Mediana is inclined to pardon you, but for my part," added he, striking
the ground with the butt end of his rifle, "I have sworn that I will not
do so."
Fabian directed a haughty glance towards Pepe, as though to command his
submission; then addressing himself to the Spaniard:
"My Lord of Mediana, you are not now in the presence of assassins, but
of judges, and Pepe will not forget it."
"Before judges!" cried Don Antonio; "my peers only possess the right of
judgment, and I do not recognise as such a malefactor escaped from jail
and a beggarly usurper who has assumed a title to which he has no right.
I do not acknowledge here any other Mediana than myself, and have
therefore no reply to make."
"Nevertheless I must constitute myself your judge," said Fabian, "yet
believe me I shall be an impartial one, since I take as a witness that
God whose sun shines upon us, when I swear that I no longer entertain
any feelings of animosity or hatred against you."
There was so much truth in the manner with which Fabian pronounced these
words, that, for an instant, Don Estevan's countenance lost its
expression of gloomy defiance, and was even lit up by a ray of hope, for
the Duke de Armada recollected that he stood face to face with the heir
for whom, in his pride, he had once mourned. It was therefore in a less
severe tone that he asked--
"Of what crime am I then accused?"
"You are about to hear," replied Fabian.