window for some minutes without speaking. Dolores was the first to break
the silence.
"You are sorry to leave us, Mr Gordon," she said; "but it will give you
great joy to see your own family again."
"It will. You who have never been away from your own people cannot tell
the joy there is in meeting again those you love after a long absence,"
replied Gordon.
"But I can understand it, remember how long Marcelino was away from us;
I was quite a little girl when he went to Cordova, but I used often to
think of him and wonder what he would be like, and then when he did come
back I was so proud of him. Your sisters are thinking about you now as I
used to think about Marcelino."
"I dare say they are, for this was my first experience of foreign
service. I had no idea that I should come here when I left England, for
we were sent to the Cape of Good Hope."
"What things you will have to tell them! If you had never been----if you
had not stopped with us you would never have known what it is to gallop
over the Pampa."
"And more than that, I should never have known you as I do know you.
They know already what kind friends I have found here, how fortunate I
have been. When I reach home I shall never be tired of talking to them
about you."
"They will be glad to have you back again, but they will not care to
hear much about us. Marcelino has told me how in Europe they think that
all South Americans are savages."
"They will soon learn to know better when I tell them about you, and
about Doña Constancia and Don Roderigo and Marcelino, and about all of
you. And about your houses, and about your tertulias in the evenings.
They will learn to think much of you, my sisters would be ready to love
you if they only saw you. My mother knows your name already; in her
second letter she asked me a great many questions about you."
"But you will not stop long with them, will you? If the English send an
army to Spain you will go and fight for Spain against Napoleon."
"If my regiment is ordered there I shall go with it. Would you be glad
to hear that I was fighting for Spain?"
"I should. Will not you be proud to fight for Spain?",
"You look upon Spain as your own country; then if I fight for Spain I
shall think that I am fighting for you. If the 71st is not sent to Spain
I will exchange into some other regiment and go there for your sake, if
an English army does go. If I were in Spain you would often think of me.
I am only a subaltern with little more than my sword to depend upon, but
when the war is over and we have beaten Napoleon out of Spain then I
shall come back here, for I shall never forget Buenos Aires, and shall
think of you every day till I come back again. Promise me that wherever
I have to go you will not forget me."
"Oh! of that there is not the slightest fear," said Dolores, in a low
eager voice, which sounded in Gordon's ears as the sweetest music, and
the memory of which remained with him for years after, while an ocean
rolled between them.
"My time is very short here now," he said, in a tremulous voice;
"perhaps we may never be alone together again before I go, and years may
pass before I am able to return. You have promised that you will not
forget me, that you will think of me while I am far away; will you not
give me some still sweeter hope? Will you not let me hope that when I
return I shall find you as you are now? Will you not let me centre all
my hopes for life in you?"
"When you reach your own country you will find some one for whom you
will care much more than you can ever care for me," said Dolores, in a
very low voice, while the long, dark lashes fell over her eyes, and she
bent her head, gazing upon the ground.
"Never," replied Gordon earnestly; "I never met any one whom I could
love as I love you, and I never shall."
As he spoke he stepped nearer to her, and took one of her hands in his
own.
"I know not what life is before me," he continued, "but one little word
from you encouraging me to hope would gild that life so that I should
shrink from no toil or hardship which might bring me nearer to you. Will
you not bid me hope, I ask no more."
To this Dolores answered nothing, but the taper fingers of the hand
twined round his with a gentle pressure, which sent a thrill of proud
joy through his whole frame.
Again the door opened, and in came Doña Constancia, smiling, and
stretching out her hand to Lieutenant Gordon.
"I have come to congratulate you," she said, apparently unconscious of
the excitement which was only too manifest in his face. "You are going
from us, and we shall miss you very much."
Long the three sat together talking of the future, Gordon again and
again reiterating his resolution to come back and make Buenos Aires his
home.
* * * * *
The next day there was high feasting at the house of Don Gregorio Lopez.
His dining-room was very large, but there was barely room for the
numerous guests assembled. It was a political banquet in celebration of
the first anniversary of the defeat of the English army which had
attacked the city under the command of General Whitelock. The Viceroy,
Marshal Don Santiago Liniers, with many of his principal officers, was
present; also the leading members of the various corporations which
formed the government, together with the commanders of the various
regiments, both of the Spanish troops and the militia; also others who
held no official position, but were there as personal friends of their
host. Among these there was one who, among the crowd of brown and blue
uniforms, profusely embroidered with gold lace and bullion, was
conspicuous by his plain scarlet coat, and the gay tartan plaid which
hung gracefully from his shoulder. It being a political banquet there
were no ladies present.
The banquet commenced an hour before sundown; after about two hours Don
Gregorio rose from his seat, and in a short complimentary speech
proposed the health of the Viceroy, the hero of the 12th August, 1806,
and of the 5th and 6th July, 1807. The toast was drunk with enthusiasm;
then Liniers replied at greater length and proposed "The Junta of
Seville," now the virtual government of Spain and the Indies, on account
of the imprisonment by Napoleon of the ex-King Charles IV. and his son
Ferdinand. To these followed many other patriotic and complimentary
toasts; and then there was a short pause, during which each man spoke
with his neighbour in low tones, till Don Manuel Belgrano, after
receiving a nod of acquiescence from Don Gregorio, rose to his feet and
proposed the "Morenos de Ponce." His speech was a short one, but it
elicited a long one from Don Marcelino in acknowledgment of the toast.
For Marcelino was proud of his negroes; and as on the 5th July he had
not commanded them he could expatiate freely upon their gallantry on
that occasion without laying himself open to an accusation of vanity. He
told many anecdotes about them, illustrative both of their devotedness
and of their simplicity; several of these anecdotes excited peals of
laughter, and when he at length sat down he was applauded by a vehement
clapping of hands, the Viceroy himself setting the example.
Then Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon rose to his feet:--
"Señores," he said, "we this day celebrate the first anniversary of our
great victory over the English. We do right to celebrate this victory
gained by a colony of the old and glorious kingdom of Spain over the
well-appointed army of a great and valiant nation. We are proud of the
victory we gained on the 5th July, 1807, but I know that you will all
join with me in the wish that we may never gain another. The war between
England and Spain resulted from the insidious intrigues of the usurper
who, not content with seizing for himself the throne of France, seeks to
make kings and princes of all the low-born adventurers who surround him,
seizing for them by fraud and violence the thrones of every kingdom in
Europe. Thank God, the mask of friendship by which he has deluded Spain
has at last been torn from him, we have seen ere it was too late the
abyss into which he would have led us. England, Austria, Prussia, and
Russia have in vain striven to stay the advance of his victorious
standards, but at last his usurpations have raised against him a foe who
will trample them in the dust. Spain, unconquered Spain, has risen up
against him. The Spanish people have risen as one man against Napoleon,
and Spain will be the graveyard of his ruffian soldiery. We have seen
and acknowledge the errors which led us into hostilities against
England, we have stretched out the hand to her in friendship, she has
clasped it in forgiveness of the past. We forgive the destruction of our
navies at Trafalgar, she forgives the wholesale slaughter of her
soldiery in the streets of this our city. England and Spain are now firm
allies, together we shall reconquer the territory the invader has
already wrested from us, and shall bring back in triumph our rightful
king.
"No, Señores, we wish for no more victories over the English, the
English are our friends and sworn allies. We who witnessed the fight
this day one year ago, who saw how dauntlessly the English advanced
under a hailstorm of balls which strewed our streets with their dead; we
who saw how small parties of them, cut off from all succour and hemmed
in on every side, yet held out for hours refusing to surrender; we who
saw them on that day know how to appreciate the valour of such brave
allies. We rejoice that they are no longer our foes, they are now our
friends, and as friends and allies we welcome them to fight beside us in
the cause of every people. We have seen them as they are, and know that
they are worthy to fight side by side with the indomitable soldiery of
Spain.
"Señores, fill your glasses and join me in one more toast to our friends
the English!"
Again with loud "Vivas" every man rose from his seat, and every eye was
turned towards the place where Lieutenant Gordon sat in his scarlet
coat, the sole representative there of the new-found friends of Spain.
As the applause ceased he rose and spoke as follows:--
"Señores, it is with many mixed feelings that I rise to thank you for
the warmth with which you have received the toast which has just been
proposed to you by my friend Don Roderigo, whose guest I had been for
two years. Two years ago the fortune of war made me your prisoner;
thanks to Don Roderigo, and to others of you from whom I have received
unvarying kindness, these two years have been to me as one long holiday;
I cannot look upon you as my gaolers, I cannot fancy that I ever did
look upon you as my enemies, your kindness to me will make it impossible
for me ever to think of you otherwise than as dear friends. When I am
far away, I know not where, in the service of my own country, I shall
look back upon Buenos Aires as the spot where I have passed the
happiest years of my life. I came here knowing as little as Englishmen
generally do of Spain or of the colonies of Spain, I was a soldier, my
country was at war with Spain, and I came here to do her bidding, to
fight as I thought against Spain. I came here as an enemy, the chances
of war made me your prisoner, among you I have lived ever since.
"Living among you I have learned to know you, and to think it the
greatest of all misfortunes that England and you should look upon each
other as enemies. Living among you I have learned that Buenos Aires is
not Spain, and that in fighting against Buenos Aires, England fights
against a country which every interest binds to her in firm friendship
and alliance. Most of you by race and language are Spaniards, many of
you were born in Spain, but this country is not Spain, those who live in
this country cannot long remain Spaniards. In the Old World we live
fettered by the trammels of worn-out traditions, but here in the New
World the very air is redolent of freedom. Unarmed, often alone, I have
galloped for days over your boundless Pampa, I have shared the
hospitality of great landowners, whose possessions exceed the limits of
many an English county, and have also often been indebted for a night's
lodging to the kindness of some lowly herdsman; from both the reception
was the same, a frank welcome, an offer of everything I could require,
and no question asked as to whence I came, or when or whither I would
go. Galloping north, south, and west over the trackless Pampa, meeting
nowhere with any obstacle, finding everywhere frankness and open-handed
hospitality, I have felt the blood course through my veins with the joy
of unrestricted freedom. I have gazed around me to the very verge of the
far-off horizon, seeing nothing which could prevent me from galloping on
and on whithersoever my will might lead to, and have known for the first
time in my life the proud feeling of absolute independence.
"This liberty, which has been to me but as a brief holiday, has been to
the majority of the men of this country the leading influence of their
life. These immense plains which you call the Pampa are peopled by a
hardy race of yeomen, who have grown to maturity in an atmosphere of
freedom; from their earliest boyhood they have been accustomed to think
and act for themselves, they have been trained in self-reliance, the
trammels of the Old World are to them unknown, liberty is with them the
very essence of their life. And you who live in the city also feel the
impulse of this all-pervading influence. Obsolete laws and customs
fetter you and check the growth of the genuine instincts of your nature,
but you breathe the free air of America; around you stretch those
boundless plains which speak to you whenever you look upon them of the
nothingness of man in face of the immensity of Nature. No man, whether
he be a Spaniard, an Englishman, or a Frenchman, can live long
surrounded by these influences without feeling that in the sight of God
all men are equal. It has therefore caused me no surprise to find here
men who, in ideas and modes of thought, resemble the most advanced
philosophers of Europe.
"The liberal ideas, which carried to excess have been a scourge to
France, driving her to seek for peace under the iron rule of a military
despot, have yet their foundation in great natural truths; these truths
are taught to you by every influence which surrounds you. Thus the men
of this land, though colonists of Spain, are yet a separate people. In
coming here to fight against Spain we forced you into hostilities
against us, and raised up for ourselves an enemy where we might have
found our firmest friend. Spain alone is powerless against us, but twice
have we been foiled by a colony of Spain.
"A colony is an infant nation; the day will come when in the maturity of
your strength you will take your place among the nations of the world.
If in your infancy you have by your valour humbled the pride of haughty
England, that place will surely be in the foremost rank. England at
peace with Spain is now no longer your enemy and will be the first to
stretch out to you the hand, and welcome you into the great family of
the nations.
"England and Spain have now the glorious task before them of setting
bounds to the insatiate ambition of Napoleon; in this struggle I hope to
have my part, fighting once more under the red cross of St George, in
the most righteous of all causes, the deliverance of a noble people from
foreign usurpation. In fighting for Spain I shall feel that I am
fighting for you also, and thus in some degree repaying the great
kindness which during two years of captivity has taught me to look upon
Buenos Aires as my second country.
"Señores, again I thank you for the warmth with which you have welcomed
the friendship of old England."
As Gordon resumed his seat, the majority of those present commenced
clapping their hands, snouting "Vivan los Ingleses!" and some few added
in a lower tone, "The true allies of America."
But there were others, among them the Viceroy, who neither shouted nor
clapped their hands, but looked uneasily one at the other, as though
they were far from pleased.
Don Gregorio, looking round his table, saw the various emotions depicted
on the faces of his guests; he saw a cloud on the usually open
countenance of the Viceroy, ill-concealed anger in the faces of Don
Martin Alzaga and other Spaniards, annoyance and vexation in the face of
his son-in-law Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon; while in the flushed features
of many of his younger guests he read a dangerous excitement, which one
untoward word might rouse into a storm. Hurriedly he rose from his seat.
"Señores," he said, "Spain has taken upon herself a task which Europe
united has failed to accomplish. In this she will need staunch allies,
she will find them in the English, therefore fill your glasses once more
and honour a repetition of this toast, 'To our friends the English!'"
"To our friends the English!" shouted all the company, rising to their
feet, and the toast being duly honoured they left their places and began
conversing in groups about the room, upon which Don Gregorio ordered a
large pair of folding doors to be thrown open, and invited his guests to
adjourn to the sala for coffee, thus preventing the perpetration of any
more ambiguous speeches.
From the sala the guests gradually dispersed, many of them being engaged
to pass the rest of the night at the house of Don Fausto Velasquez.
"My congratulations on your speech, my friend," said Marcelino to
Gordon, as they left the house together.
"Some of them did not half like it," replied Gordon, laughing; "but I
said nothing that I have not said to you fifty times."
"True, but it would be treason for any of us to speak so before the
Viceroy. The Spanish doctrine is that 'a colony is a slave.'"
"If her colonists were slaves Spain would have lost this colony a year
ago. It takes men to beat us."
"Well, as my father said, we will never beat you again. I never drank to
a toast with more pleasure in my life than I did to his 'To our friends
the English!'"
BOOK IV
THE DAWN OF FREEDOM
PART I
THE BRIGHTENING OF THE EASTERN SKY
PROLOGUE
The thoughts of a youth are as the winds of heaven, which blow where
they list, none knowing whence they come or whither they go, yet have
they all some certain course and goal. The thoughts of a youth spring
from the instincts of his nature, and are turned hither and thither by
the ever-varying circumstances which surround him, yet all tend to one
end--the development of his strength and character. The youth has but
one object before him, to be a man; if he live, the attainment of this
object is certain, its value is to him incalculable; manhood is to the
youth the gate which opens to him the whole world.
The veil had fallen from before the unknown future, Buenos Aires stood
face to face with her destiny. Her chains had been struck from her hands
and from her feet, by events of which she could have no foreknowledge;
she stood upright in her youthful strength, unfettered, and alone.
But Buenos Aires had looked upon Spain as upon a mother; now that Spain
lay prostrate in her degradation she felt her tyranny no longer, she
remembered only that she was her mother.
The waves of the sea toss up their heads rushing to and fro, dashing
themselves in never-ending succession upon the shingly beach, each wave
after its headlong rush sinking back again into the ocean, vanishing for
ever, yet does the tide ever march steadily onwards. As are the waves of
ocean, so are the thoughts of a youth, vacillating ever, yet ever
advancing towards the one inevitable goal. As are the thoughts of a
youth, so are the acts of a young nation, which is not yet known to be a
nation, vacillating ever, yet ever advancing towards that one goal which
is the object of all her aspirations--Independence.
CHAPTER I
MAGDALEN
The quinta of Don Alfonso Miranda was not a pretentious dwelling,
nevertheless there were men in Buenos Aires who thought it one of the
pleasantest houses in or about the city, in which they could wile away a
leisure hour. Among others Lieutenant Gordon, during the last year of
his residence in Buenos Aires, had been very fond of strolling out there
either on foot or on horseback, and had frequently delighted the owner
by telling him that while there he could almost fancy himself back in
his native country, and certainly if any flat-roofed house with barred
windows could remind an Englishman of England it was the house of Don
Alfonso Miranda. Don Alfonso had lived so long in England that he had
acquired many of the tastes of an Englishman, he had learnt by practical
experience the meaning of the English word "comfort," and had fitted up
his South American home with a variety of contrivances for keeping out
the heat in summer and the cold in winter, which were complete novelties
to the hospitable people who had welcomed him amongst them, and who had
befriended his daughter when he fell under the ban of their Spanish
rulers.
This house, after his release from prison, he had purchased from an
American of the name of White, who had built it for himself, but had
special reasons of his own for being glad to find a purchaser in Don
Alfonso. This same Mr White had returned to Buenos Aires in the year
1807, in company with General Whitelock, and was much consulted by that
unfortunate officer.
In one of the rooms in this house was a large, open fireplace, where
cheerful wood fires burnt in the cold season. When Don Alfonso brought
his daughter to live with him she made tea for him in the English
fashion, presiding with demure gravity over her porcelain tea-cups,
clustered round a tall, steaming urn. This tea-urn and the fireplace
were to their native visitors most marvellous innovations, but Don
Alfonso had now no greater pleasure in life than to sit cosily in an
arm-chair beside his fire on a chilly winter evening, watching his
daughter as she so presided at her own tea-table, listening to her voice
as she chatted with some chance visitor, and thinking dreamily of his
English home and his English wife, now both lost to him for ever. Don
Alfonso was himself of rather taciturn disposition, but he liked to hear
others talk, and there was no voice he loved to hear so much as that of
his daughter Magdalen.
Magdalen was but a very young woman, her teens wanted yet one of
completion, but when she returned to the city, after her long visit at
the Pajonales with the family of Don Fausto Velasquez, her father
thought her quite old enough to govern his household for him. He had
fitted up two rooms with great care for her especial use, adorning them
with books, pictures, and trinkets which had years ago belonged to her
mother, and which he had carefully packed up and brought with him across
the ocean for the special purpose of some day bestowing them upon his
daughter.
Doña Josefina and her friends found the Quinta de Don Alfonso a very
pleasant resort in the warm summer evenings. It stood off a short
distance from one of the main roads, separated from it and from the
wide, open space which went by the name of the Plaza Miserere by
thickly-planted trees.
Where ladies go, there young men are ever sure to follow, so that before
her first summer at her father's quinta had passed over, Magdalen had
taught some score of young men who had never tasted tea in their lives
before, to drink it out of her porcelain cups. Among those who drank out
of her porcelain cups this summer there were three who had found special
favour in her eyes, Don Carlos Evaña, Don Marcelino Ponce de Leon, and
Lieutenant Gordon, for they would now and then speak to her in English;
her father having taken care that she should not forget her native
tongue, generally speaking to her himself in that language, and she was
glad when she could find any one to talk English with. Of English books
she had what her friends thought a large collection, and these three
friends would sometimes borrow some of these books from her, and talk to
her about them after reading them. But one great trouble she had; she
had not come at once to the quinta when she returned to the city with
Don Fausto, but had remained several weeks with Doña Josefina, at whose
house she had frequently met Dolores Ponce de Leon. Between Dolores and
her a warm friendship had sprung up, in which there was more than
friendship, for each became to the other as a sister, and as sisters
they loved each other, telling each other unreservedly the deepest
secrets of their hearts, hearts which had as yet known no deep emotion,
and in which there were no secrets but such as they might have told
unblushingly to all the world. Still they met occasionally at the house
of Don Fausto Velasquez, where Magdalen went often, or at the house of
Don Gregorio Lopez, where she went less frequently, but to the quinta
Dolores never came, saying that her father had forbidden her. The reason
of this remained a mystery to Magdalen, for when she had applied in her
perplexity to Doña Josefina that lady had spoken to her such words of
Don Alfonso that she felt she could never ask any more questions on the
subject.
The outside of the house of Don Alfonso differed in one respect from the
generality of the houses about Buenos Aires. On the eastern side, which
was the front, instead of the usual verandah there stood before the main
entrance a wide porch of trellis-work, over which honeysuckle and other
flowering creepers climbed luxuriantly, loading the air in the
summer-time with the sweet scent of flowers innumerable. The flooring of
this porch, on a level with that of the house, was raised some two feet
above the level of the garden, from which the approach was by three wide
steps. In this porch it was a frequent custom with Don Alfonso to sit
with his daughter or with their guests in the warm evenings of the
summer and autumn, sheltered from the sun, and gazing through the
foliage of the trees upon the green suburbs and upon the white houses of
the nearer portion of the city, and farther away upon the summits of the
towers and domes of churches.
Magdalen rejoiced with the joy of a young girl whose life so far had
been passed amongst strangers, when she found herself at the head of her
father's household, and her sweet womanly instincts developed themselves
rapidly as she felt that the comfort of others depended upon her
diligence and foresight. The household was but a small one, but there
was much for her to do in the way of contrivance and arrangement, for
Don Alfonso would never buy anything which could possibly be made at
home, or which his quinta would produce.
So Magdalen passed the spring, summer, and autumn in great contentment
with her father at his quinta; it was now winter, and though she had
made frequent visits to her friends in the city, yet she had during all
this time never passed one night from under her father's roof until the
night of the 5th July, which she spent in very unwonted fashion under
the roof of Don Fausto Velasquez, dancing and listening to soft speeches
in the spacious saloons of Doña Josefina, which were crowded with all
that Buenos Aires could furnish in the way of beauty and distinction.
The number of those having some claim to distinction in Buenos Aires was
not great at that time, for until the first invasion of the English
under Beresford the modes by which a native of Buenos Aires could
distinguish himself were very few. Two English invasions had given
opportunities for distinction, and officers of the Patricios and
Arribeños who had shown skill or courage were the favoured guests of
Doña Josefina on this occasion. Among these officers there was but one
Spaniard, a captain in the regiment of the Andaluces. To this captain
Doña Josefina showed great attention, introducing him to many a fair
partner, whispering to them to pardon his coarse manners and want of
address, as he was a protegé of hers, and had been lieutenant of the
"Morenos de Ponce."
But of beauty Buenos Aires had enough and to spare. It is said (in
Buenos Aires) that when Venus was apportioning her gifts among her
sisters she gave pre-eminence in grace and elegance to the Spanish
woman, in liveliness and savoir-faire to the Frenchwoman, to the Italian
perfection of form and feature, to the Englishwoman a complexion clear
as the morning, and so on, some special gift to the women of every race
upon earth, but that she forgot the Porteña altogether, till being told
of her neglect she took from each woman of every race a fragment of the
special perfection of each one of them and bestowed it upon the Porteña,
thus creating a race of women unequalled in the variety of their charms
in any country under the sun. However that may be, it would be difficult
to find anywhere such a collection of beauty as graced the saloons of
Doña Josefina on this evening of the 5th July.
Magdalen was not a Porteña, her friends called her the "Inglesita,"
because England had been her birthplace. She was short in stature,
irregular in feature, with high cheek-bones; her English birth had not
even endowed her with a brilliant complexion, but her figure was good,
her hands and feet were small, and there was an easy grace about her
every movement which was in itself no inconsiderable charm. Throughout
this evening she was surrounded by a constant succession of admirers
emulous of her hand, and each one as he led her to a seat after a dance
lingered near her, wondering to himself what it was that made him so
linger.
She spoke little during the dances, for this was the first city ball at
which she had ever been present; the brilliance of the scene somewhat
embarrassed her, and many of those who sought an introduction to her she
had never seen before. This was her first ball and she enjoyed it
greatly, the pleasure which she felt beamed in her face; joy is
infectious and produces joy in those who look upon it, by sympathy.
Her dress was of white muslin, richly embroidered, with a very short
body and immense balloon sleeves padded with swan's-down, which stood
out round her shoulders but left the greater part of her arms bare.
Under this dress she wore another of blue silk, the outer dress of
muslin being looped up at the left side with a small rosette of blue
silk; both dresses were exceedingly long in the skirt, sweeping the
ground for fully a yard and a half behind her as she walked. Her hair,
rising straight up from her forehead, was combed in a fashion much in
vogue at that day into one mass on the top of her head, and was
sparingly sprinkled with powder; from the back a few curls fell down
behind her ears, and two or three smaller curls lay in careful
negligence upon her forehead and temples. She wore a necklace of pearls,
from the centre of which hung a small gold cross, and her left wrist was
encircled by a bracelet of plain gold.
About an hour before midnight, during a pause between two dances,
Magdalen was walking down one of the rooms in company with Lieutenant
Gordon, who was repeating to her some of the anecdotes which Marcelino
Ponce de Leon had told about his negroes at the banquet not two hours
before, when she was accosted by an officer in gala uniform, with the
epaulets of a major on his shoulders. She started at his voice as he
spoke to her, and then looked up at him with a glad smile, but as her
eyes met his they fell beneath their earnest gaze and a warm flush
spread over her cheeks. The officer who had addressed her, and whose
bright dark eyes were riveted upon her face as he bowed lowly before
her, was Marcelino himself.
Marcelino had never forgotten those eyes which had haunted him during
the long summer and autumn which he had passed training his negroes, and
he had eagerly accepted Don Alfonso's subsequent invitation to visit him
at his quinta, but during the many evenings he had passed there since he
had never again seen the same look in those eyes, often as he had looked
into them in search of it, and he had learned to think of Magdalen as an
amiable but very plain-featured girl, with a certain nameless
fascination about her for which he could not account. Also, as a girl
with a talent for conversation, and a voice to which he could listen for
hours with the same feeling as though he had been listening to music.
Magdalen had inherited from her English mother a gift more charming than
any physical beauty, and one less liable to fade, that of a most
melodious voice. In Buenos Aires, where physical beauty is so general
among women, a melodious voice is but rarely heard, and Marcelino had
often caused great amusement to his friend Gordon during many months
past by his mode of asking him to accompany him on a visit to Don
Alfonso.
"Come out with me to the Miserere, and talk to your paisanita for me
while I listen."
As Marcelino now looked upon Magdalen, with the girlish joy beaming in
her face, he saw once again that same look in her eyes which had haunted
him for so long and which he had never forgotten. Her face seemed to him
lighted up with a new beauty all its own, a beauty far exceeding all
beauty of feature or complexion, the beauty of expression. When she
smiled upon him with the glad smile with which she received him, her
soul looked out upon him through those large grey eyes, a soul in
consonance with the sweet voice he loved to listen to, the soul of a
large-hearted, loving woman. To Marcelino she never appeared
plain-featured again.
He asked her hand for the next dance, and then instead of dancing they
sauntered away to a quiet corner, where they sat down and talked
together.
"So Gordon has been telling you about the banquet?" said Marcelino.
"Not much about the banquet, but about the speech you made," replied
Magdalen.
"I made! Yes, I did make a speech of a sort; talked about my negroes,
which is very easy for me to do; but his was the great speech, did not
he tell you about that?"
"Not a word. What did he say?"
"He said one thing, which there are some of us will take care to spread
all over the country. He said that a colony is an infant nation."
"You think so, I know. I have heard you say something like it more than
once."
"Yes, but not in public, and before the Viceroy. In us poor Creoles it
would be rank treason to say such a thing, but just at present an
Englishman may say what he likes."
"Then when he goes there will be no one left among you who will dare to
speak the truth openly?"
"No one, for a time at least; but the day is coming when all will be
able to speak openly just what they think."
"Why not begin at once? I should think it was never too early to speak
the truth."
"There you are mistaken; but you must think me very stupid to talk to
you about politics in a ball-room, though I have seen you listen when
others were talking politics at the quinta."
"I always listen, and then talk to papa about it afterwards. Papa and I
are great politicians when we are alone together. I have never seen my
uncle Don Francisco, but papa has talked to me for hours about him,
though he hardly ever speaks of him to any one else."
"Allow me to compliment you on your dress, I admire the colours you have
chosen; blue and white, are they your favourite colours?"
"Yes, they are, so I would wear them. Doña Josefina and Lola did all
they could to persuade me to wear pink, but I can be very obstinate when
I choose."
"And quite right too. I never saw you looking so well before, all the
men seem to think so, it was ever so long before I could get a chance of
speaking to you."
"That is because you are the hero of the ball, and have so many others
to speak to. Does not Lola look beautiful this evening, quite like a
little queen?"
"I think she has spoiled it by the way she has arranged her hair, the
peinete[7] does not suit her at all, and I should think it must be very
uncomfortable."
"La moda nunca incomoda,"[8] answered Magdalen.
"I am glad you have not followed the fashion," said Marcelino, "for the
peinete would suit you even less than it does Lola."
As they spoke, a lady of fair stature and of radiant beauty, in the
first bloom of womanhood, dressed in pink, and with masses of dark hair
falling in silken curls upon her white shoulders, came sailing proudly
down the room leaning upon the arm of a young officer; as she passed
near them she turned her brilliant black eyes full upon Marcelino, and
bending towards him with a peculiar wave of her fan, said in a low
voice:
"Le felicito" (I congratulate you).
Magdalen, who had apparently not heard her words, gazed eagerly after
her.
"What a beautiful girl," she said; "I do not think I ever saw such a
beautiful girl. Who is she?"
"Elisa Puyrredon; she is sister to Doña Juana de Saenz-Valiente; some
men say that the two sisters and my aunt Josefina are the three most
beautiful women in Buenos Aires."
"And what do you say?"
"I don't know any woman equal in beauty to Elisa Puyrredon."
"But we were talking about my uncle," said Magdalen. "I am so proud to
have such a man for my uncle. I think a man who has spent his life as he
has, has done more that he may be proud of than the greatest conqueror
that ever lived. He has always been beaten; but even Napoleon, with all
the battles he has won, is not near so great a man in my eyes as my
uncle Francisco."
As Magdalen spoke her face flushed, her enthusiasm beamed in her large
grey eyes, tinging them with a darker colour than was usual to them; and
Marcelino, watching her intently, forgot to speak, till meeting his
wrapt gaze she bent her head and appeared intent only upon the figures
on her fan.
"Then you think that a man who devotes himself to the welfare of his
country, even if he fail and be proscribed and banished, has not spent
his life in vain?" said Marcelino.
"In vain, no! Good work is never done in vain."
"You will miss Gordon very much."
"Indeed I shall, and so will you; but he says he will come back again,
and I think he will."
Magdalen spoke this last sentence in a peculiarly confidential tone,
raising her fan as she spoke, and looking over the edge of it at
Marcelino, but the glance and the tone were alike thrown away upon that
gentleman.
"He promised me long ago," replied he, "that if we have to fight for our
freedom he will join us; but now I think we shall win it without
fighting, the French are doing that for us. He likes the country so some
day we shall have him back again. What will you do without him? You will
have no one to read English to you in the porch next summer."
"Poor me! but it was very seldom he did read to me last summer. I think
he likes galloping about better than reading. Last summer he was always
in a hurry to get away, and his gallops were always in one direction."
"Yes, the traitor! he was always taking me to the Miserere in the
afternoons, and then leaving me to find my way back by myself."
"Yet I never saw you angry with him for deserting you."
"The time passed so pleasantly that I never missed him till it was time
to go back. You cannot think how I am wishing for the long days to come
again."
"Papa likes the winter best."
"Yes, he likes to sit at his fireside while you make tea for him, but we
Porteños like the open air better. For me the most pleasant place in any
season is where you are."
"A compliment! You know that I do not like compliments," answered
Magdalen, with a look of annoyance.
"I did not intend it as a compliment," said Marcelino.
"When men say things like that it sounds to me as if they were mocking
one. There are some men who are always doing it, and it is so annoying.
You have never said anything like that to me before."
"I never said a word to you yet that I did not mean. Do you not like to
hear the truth spoken to you?"
"Yes, even if it be unpleasant."
"And I like to speak the truth when it is pleasant to do so; when it is
not I prefer to keep silent."
"If you never speak anything but the truth to me we shall always be good
friends, and I shall know how to interpret your silence."
"Then we are good friends now, for I have never said a word to you that
is not true. I am going away, and I do not know when I shall be back. I
should be very sorry to go away leaving you angry at anything I had said
to you."
"You are going away! Where to?"
"To Rio Janeiro. I arranged it this morning. If the captain of the
English frigate which is at Monte Video will give me a passage I am
going with Gordon, so I shall not lose him so soon as you will."
"He does not know, at least he said nothing of it to me."
"No, I have not told him yet. No one knows but you and my father."
"Poor Dolores! she will be quite lonely, losing both you and Mr Gordon
at once."
"Not so lonely as you generally are. She has always plenty of people
about her. If she saw you more often she would miss us less. Could you
not come and pay Aunt Josefina a visit of a month or so, I know she
wants you to do so?"
"And leave papa all alone! Impossible!"
"Then I will tell you what to do. Come and spend one day every week with
Aunt Josefina. Lola often tells me that she wishes she could see more of
you than she does."
"Does she? Oh! I am so glad. I shall be here all day to-morrow till the
evening, and then every Wednesday morning after this I will come in and
spend the day with Doña Josefina. I am sure papa will let me if I ask
him, and when I have a fixed day for coming then Lola will come too."
"Then when I come back the Wednesdays will be an established custom, and
I shall think that I have done something to give you a pleasure by
suggesting it. Every Wednesday while I am away I shall think that you
and Lola are together, and when she speaks of me you will think of me
for a moment, and will remember that I am thinking of you."
[7] The large comb at that time worn in Buenos Aires as in Spain,
generally made of tortoise-shell, and sometimes two feet in
width.
[8] The fashion is never uncomfortable.
CHAPTER II
HOW DON GREGORIO LOPEZ A SECOND TIME SOUGHT AN ANSWER TO THE QUESTION OF
THE DAY
In August there came an emissary from the Emperor Napoleon to Buenos
Aires. Viceroy Liniers received this Frenchman very affably and the two
held conferences together of which none knew the purport; but why this
Frenchman had come was no secret to any one in Buenos Aires. He came on
behalf of the Emperor Napoleon to invite the colonies of Spain to follow
the example of their mother-country, telling them that Spaniards desired
no longer that Bourbons should reign over them, but had welcomed with
joy a new king whom he had chosen for them, his brother Joseph.
But Buenos Aires had heard of this new king, Joseph, before this
Frenchman had come to tell her of him, and knew that those Spanish
nobles and courtiers who had crowded round Murat at Madrid, and had
welcomed the new king whom Napoleon had sent to them, were not the
Spanish people. Buenos Aires knew that the Spanish people would have no
foreigner for their king, and that the Central Junta established at
Seville proposed to rule Spain and to make war upon Napoleon in the name
of Ferdinand VII., who by the abdication of his father was the
legitimate King of Spain, although both he and his father were now
prisoners in France, and were said to have renounced their rights in
favour of the new king, Joseph.
Buenos Aires had no great cause to love Spain, and her reverence for her
was fast dying out, yet still she looked upon Spain as her mother, and
her spirit rose in anger as she heard of her degradation. Men went about
from house to house and stood in groups at the street corners, talking
eagerly one to the other, questioning one another why it was that this
Frenchman was hospitably entertained in their city, while Spain lay
prostrate at the feet of Napoleon, who had sent him? Then they
remembered Liniers also was a Frenchman, and their wrath was kindled
against him; and when sundry Spaniards came amongst them, striving with
soft speeches to still their indignation telling them that the question
was not theirs, but was Spain's, that Spain would decide for herself and
for them, they thrust them out from among them with scornful words.
On the 15th August Liniers made a proclamation to them, counselling them
to moderation, showing how the destinies of a colony should follow those
of the mother-country, but that while the struggle went on they should
for their own sake hold aloof. But neither to him would they listen, and
throughout the city the ferment was great.
Then on the 21st August Liniers gave answer to the emissary of Napoleon,
and justified himself in the eyes of the men of Buenos Aires by
proclaiming with all due formality and military display Ferdinand VII.
King of Spain and the Indies.
It was the evening on this 21st August, the roll of the drums was long
since hushed, the regular troops had retired to their barracks, the
militia to their homes, the quietude of a winter night had come down
over the city. The streets were almost deserted, here and there men
might be seen issuing from their houses, and wending their way through
the darkness to the house of Don Gregorio Lopez. Each man as he reached
the door of this house looked cautiously round to see that he was alone,
then struck one smart rap with his knuckles upon one of the panels of
the door, and bent his head to listen.
From the inside there came one rap in answer, upon which he struck twice
rapidly in the same place as before, and the door opened. In the centre
of the zaguan hung a lamp, which threw its rays directly on the face of
each man as he went in; under this lamp stood a tall negro. Each man as
he entered the zaguan waited till the door closed behind him, then said
to the negro one word:
"Patria."
"Buenas noches y pasa adelante," replied the negro, stepping to one side
and leaving the passage free.
Each man crossed the first patio and entered a second zaguan, where
three young men stood in silence, waiting till he should speak. To them
he also spoke one word:
"Libertad."
Upon which one of them led him across the second patio, and ushered him
into the same large room in which Don Gregorio had held another secret
meeting more than two years before, some few days after General
Beresford had taken possession of the city.
Some days previous to the proclamation of King Ferdinand, and while the
excitement of the city was at its greatest, Marcelino Ponce de Leon had
returned to Buenos Aires. His trip to Rio de Janeiro had been a pleasant
one, but he had there met with a certain Don Saturnino Rodriguez Peña, a
Porteño by birth, who had inspired him with a great idea. Big with this
idea he hurried back, and after an interview with his grandfather sent
messengers in every direction, summoning the friends of Don Gregorio
Lopez to meet at his house on the evening of the 21st August. One of
these messengers galloped out by the southern road and returned on the
day of the meeting with Don Carlos Evaña and Don Gregorio Lopez the
younger, whose father had received him with open arms when he had
visited the city in May, soon after the sudden return of Don Carlos
Evaña to his estancia.
About nine o'clock a numerous company were assembled, then the door of
the dining-room was shut, and Don Gregorio took his place at the head of
the long table, the rest seating themselves on chairs or standing in
groups about the room.
Don Gregorio rose from his seat and looked round him, pausing ere he
spoke; a proud smile beamed on his face; as the rest looked upon him
this smile was reflected in their faces and many of them clapped their
hands.
"Señores," said Don Gregorio, as the applause subsided, "it is with
pride and pleasure that I look round on you who have come here at my
invitation. It brings to my remembrance, as it will to many of you, an
evening more than two years ago when we met together as we do now. These
two years have been years which will be for ever memorable in the annals
of our country." Here Don Gregorio was interrupted by "Vivas," and
clamorous applause; when silence was restored he went on:
"These two years have worked a mighty change amongst us. We have learnt
in times of difficulty and danger to trust to our own strength and our
own ability, and we have found that we have both strength and ability
within ourselves. In former times we looked to Spain to protect us in
danger, and we obeyed without question the mandates of the rulers she
set over us. In these years Spain has been unable to do anything to
protect us, yet have we defended ourselves successfully. We turned out
the Viceroy sent by Spain as our ruler, and have now a Viceroy of our
own selection, to whom we look as the representative of our legitimate
sovereign. But our sovereign himself is in prison, cut off from all
communication with us, to whom then shall we look as to the source of
the authority which we obey?
"During the last two years ideas and wishes have grown up amongst us
which were formerly unknown, it is for the discussion of these ideas
that I have called upon you to meet me this evening. One such idea my
grandson Marcelino has asked my permission to lay before you."
As Don Gregorio resumed his seat, Marcelino Ponce de Leon rose in the
midst of an ominous silence, and in a carefully-prepared speech
disclosed a plan for bringing the Princess Carlota, sister of King
Ferdinand and wife of the Prince-regent of Brazil, to Buenos Aires to
rule over the provinces of the Rio de La Plata as queen.
During his speech he frequently was interrupted, and as he sat down the
confusion rose to a tumult. Most of those present laughed at the idea as
absurd, and some in no measured terms expressed their indignation. When
the uproar had partially subsided, Don Gregorio Lopez again rose to his
feet and said:
"Señores, it is with my entire approval that my grandson has laid this
proposition before you. I think it well worthy of careful consideration
by all of us, but I doubt much whether it would be received with favour
by our Spanish rulers."
"Our Spanish rulers!" shouted Don Carlos Evaña, springing indignantly to
his feet, "our Spanish rulers! they are the men who are to decide this
and every other question for us! Spain has fallen and with Spain the one
check which existed to protect us from Spanish rapacity; in place of
being the slaves of a great empire we are now the slaves of a handful of
Spaniards. Who are these Spaniards that they should come among us and
arrogate to themselves the possession of all authority? Do not deceive
yourselves, my countrymen, we, the citizens of this country, have inborn
rights which no Spaniard, no king, or Bourbon, can take from us. There
is no longer any question of Spain or Bourbons, we are the people, and
the time has come for us to demand our rights as men. What shall we do
to claim and take possession of these rights of ours? That is the
question which is now before us.
"To you, Don Gregorio, as the man of most influence among us; to you,
young men, who wear the uniform of our victorious militia, the rising
hope of our country, I address this question, that you take it into your
serious consideration, but I ask you not for your answer, that answer it
is not for us alone to give, that answer must come from an entire
people, and shall ere long be spoken on the house-tops in the full blaze
of the sun."
Then, as Evaña sat down, burst forth from the younger members of that
assembly a storm of applause, and Valentin Lopez y Viana, the youngest
son of Don Gregorio, raising his hand in the air, shouted "Viva la
Patria!" a cry which found its echo in every heart there present, and
which ere long reverberated from south to north over an entire
continent, rousing enslaved nations into the bold assertion of their
rights as men.
There was no more discussion of this or any other question; with many
there present the influence of Spain was yet paramount, they might
shout "Viva la Patria," but the Patria was to them a dream, and Spain
was a dread reality, and treason against Spain was a fearful crime
entailing fearful punishment; they were only too glad to take any
pretext for opening the doors and seeking the shelter of their own
homes.
In deep chagrin Marcelino left the house in company with Don Manuel
Belgrano, the only one who had shown any warm sympathy with his
project.
CHAPTER III
SEVERAL WAYS OF LOOKING AT ONE QUESTION
It was the evening after the one on which Don Gregorio Lopez had held a
secret conference with his friends as narrated in the preceding chapter.
Don Alfonso Miranda in a loose dressing-gown and slippers sat in an
easy-chair at his fireside. On the wide, open hearth logs of wood burnt
and crackled cheerfully, throwing out showers of sparks when they were
touched.
Opposite to Don Alfonso, in another easy-chair, sat Don Carlos Evaña,
holding in his hand a tea-cup which had just been refilled for him by
the small white hands of Magdalen Miranda, who sat near to him at a
round table, in the centre of which hissed a huge brown urn. At the far
side of this table, with the urn between him and the fire, sat Marcelino
Ponce de Leon, holding a silver tea-pot under the spout of the urn,
while Magdalen with her hand on the tap let just so much water run into
it as she judged sufficient for one more cup of tea.
"You did not tell us anything about that, Don Marcelino," said Magdalen.
"No," replied Marcelino, looking across the table at Don Alfonso.
"Don Carlos, you see, trusts us more than you do," replied the young
lady, with a slight toss of her head.
"It is not want of trust that kept me silent. But secrecy implies
danger; to admit you to the secret admits you to the danger also."
"Among sixty! Did you not say there were sixty, Don Carlos?" asked
Magdalen.
"Yes; and the secret of sixty is not much of a secret," answered Evaña.
"I do not see why it should be a secret at all," said Magdalen. "The
Princess Carlota could not be queen without the consent of her brother.
Did you see her when you were at Rio?"
"Yes, Gordon took me with him to a ball at the British Embassy, and she
was there for about half an hour."
"What is she like?" asked Magdalen, but before Marcelino could answer
Don Alfonso turned towards him and asked abruptly:
"You were at the British Embassy, did you speak with Lord Strangford?"
"Yes, he took me to one side and asked me a great many questions about
this country and about Whitelock's affair."
"Did he mention my name to you?"
"Yes, and seemed curious to know what you were doing here. I told him as
little as I could of you."
"Right, quite right," replied Don Alfonso, turning back again to the
fire.
"You have been several times in the city while I was away," said
Marcelino.
"I make it a custom to go every Wednesday to see Doña Josefina," replied
Magdalen, bending over her empty tea-cups and arranging them on a small
tray.
"To one person you give great pleasure by so doing," said Evaña, in a
low voice.
"And that one is myself," said Magdalen. "When are you going out again
to your estancia, Don Carlos?"
"Some time next month," replied Evaña. "Are you tired of giving me tea
in your English fashion?"
"Not at all, I like trying to civilize you proud Porteños, who suck mate
through tubes one after the other, and yet think yourselves the most
polished people on the face of the world."
"You go often to your estancia, Don Carlos?" said Don Alfonso, rising
from his chair.
The playful smile vanished from Magdalen's face as she heard her father
speak, there was something in the tone of his voice which she had seldom
or never heard before. As she looked up at him she saw that his lips
were white, and his face set as though he were a prey to some unseen
terror. She had risen from her seat to summon her maid to remove the
tray and urn, but as she looked at her father she sat down again,
clasping her hands together.
"Since I purchased the place I have spent nearly half my time there,"
replied Evaña.
"You do well, but you would do better to spend all your time there,"
continued Don Alfonso. "I have heard that when you are there you pay
more attention to men than to beasts, and think more of your horses than
you do of your cattle."
"Yet I have more cattle than either men or horses," replied Evaña
evasively.
"Listen to me, young men, both of you," said Don Alfonso. "One of you
buys an estancia and gives away his cattle to any men who will join a
regiment with which he has nothing whatever to do; the other gets three
months' leave of absence for a voyage of pleasure, meets in Rio Janeiro
a man whose hatred of Spain has driven him into exile from his own
country, and then hurriedly returns before his leave has half expired.
Then both of you are present at a secret meeting and report that the
subject discussed was a project for supplanting our rightful king by his
sister. At this meeting there was much talking, but nothing was resolved
upon, each man spoke his own thoughts. Now I know that if Don Manuel
Belgrano and Don Carlos Evaña spoke their thoughts they would say
something very different from this insane project of bringing a queen to
reign over us."
"I assure you, Don Alfonso," said Marcelino, "that Don Manuel Belgrano
is much in favour of the idea."
"It may be so," replied Don Alfonso; "but when men meet in secret to
speak their thoughts what they speak is treason. I do not ask you of
what you spoke last night, I do not wish to know, but I will tell you
what neither of you know. When I left England ten years ago I was a
hale, strong man, now look at my white hair and my weak trembling hands,
I am an old man before my time; I should have died, and my daughter
would be an orphan, but for the kindness of men who knew nothing of me
save that I was in misery. Ten years ago I thought myself a rich man,
now I am poor, as you see. All this is the result of the reckless folly
of other men, for whose faults I have suffered. You talk of patriotism
and love for your country, do you ever think of the misery your wild
schemes may bring upon others? The day I landed at Carracas six men, of
whom four had been the friends of my youth, were put to a shameful
death, hung, drawn, and quartered; when I asked why, they spoke to me of
my brother, and because my name was Miranda they thrust me into a
dungeon, loaded me with irons, and would doubtless have taken my life
also, but that I was rich and could bribe my gaolers. I know nothing of
my brother, and of your schemes I will know nothing either, can you not
leave me to enjoy in peace the little that is left to me?"
As Don Alfonso spoke, jerking out his words in abrupt sentences, his
face became nearly livid, and his hands trembled so that he could hardly
grasp the arms of the chair as he sat down again. Marcelino covered his
face with his hands and Evaña sat motionless biting his moustache, which
was a way he had when he was angry. Magdalen looked from one to the
other with an expression of deep pain on her face, then as her father
sat down she drew out a low stool from under the table, and placing it
beside his chair she seated herself upon it, and taking his hand in hers
patted it softly, caressing him as one would soothe a child when in
trouble.
Then Marcelino took another chair in front of the fire, and strove to
change the current of their thoughts by cheerful talk, but Evaña replied
only in monosyllables, and Don Alfonso spoke not at all, sitting there
moodily in his arm-chair gazing at the fire. Marcelino and Magdalen
talked together almost in whispers, speaking to each other at random on
any subject which came uppermost, Magdalen still holding her father's
hand in hers. Thus half an hour passed over, when Evaña rose to his feet
and said:
"It is late, let us go."
"Remember what I have said," said Don Alfonso, "I wish to know nothing
of your schemes."
Then, without looking at either of them, he waved his hand and so
dismissed his two guests.
Magdalen accompanied them to the porch, looking wistfully out into the
night as they put on their cloaks and hats; as they shook hands with her
she whispered softly to Marcelino:
"Something has happened to annoy papa, I knew it."
Marcelino and Don Carlos had their horses tied under the trees, they
mounted and rode slowly away. Until they were squares from the quinta
neither of them spoke. Then said Don Carlos in a musing tone:
"See you how two men of the same birth and blood may differ?"
"Don Alfonso is certainly a very different man from his brother as you
have described him to me," replied Marcelino.
"Originally he was of much the same character," said Evaña; "but the
easy life he led in England has enervated out of him the stern energy
which distinguished Don Francisco, and his imprisonments here and at
Carracas have completely cowed what spirit he had left. He is a sample
of the effects of Spanish tyranny, of which I have seen many; the good
in him has been crushed out of him, and he has become what you have seen
to-night, a drivelling coward, and at the same time he is dangerous, for
he is both treacherous and revengeful."
"Knowing what he has suffered, I think it was unwise of you, Carlos, to
say anything to him of the meeting last night. You could not suppose
that he would take any part with us."
"I did hope that he might, his name alone would be of great service to
us, and I spoke with a purpose. I have received a letter from the
General, I believe he has also written to Don Alfonso, I wanted him to
tell me."
"What does the General say?"
"Very little, and in very guarded words, but I know what he means. He
means that the time has come, and that after our triumph of last year,
Mexico, Venezuela, Chili, and Peru all look to us to give the signal.
Your idea of giving us a queen in the Princess Carlota will not find
much favour from him if he ever hears of it."
"But you will not oppose it?"
"I do not think I shall have any need to, it will fall through without
my interference. Look here, my brother, between us there must be no
secrets."
As he spoke Evaña edged his horse nearer to Marcelino, and laid one hand
on his shoulder.
"You have started the idea, be content, leave Belgrano to carry it out
if he can. As Miranda says, the time has come; all that I have done so
far is preparative, now I am going to begin my work--join me."
"And your object?"
"A republic."
"We are not yet ready for complete independence."
"So long as Spaniards rule over us we shall never be more ready than we
are now."
"How do you propose to begin?"
"I wish to form a small secret committee of men who are ready to dare
everything for the accomplishment of our one object."
"Have you spoken to any one else of it?"
"You are the first."
"Then let me be the last also, Carlos. We are so strong that we have no
need of any secrecy, what we want is publicity to educate the people
into a knowledge of their own rights and of their own power. To form a
committee as you suggest is the first step towards a conspiracy, and
will give a pretext for forcible measures of repression, which can only
end in civil war. Let us openly demand that half the seats in the
Cabildo be given to Creoles, and that Creoles be henceforth eligible for
any post under government."
"And then we will throw open our ports to the world and invite the
English to come and trade with us?"
"Just so. With our own men in every corporation all necessary reforms
are possible."
"And Spaniards are going to give up their monopolies and let us
introduce all manner of innovations, and be brothers to us so long as we
let their flag fly at the fort, and shout 'Viva La Reina!' or 'Viva el
Rey!' whichever it may chance to be."
"They will submit to necessity."
"When they see it they will, but until we show it them they will never
see it. No, my brother, we must first assert, seize by force, if
necessary, the power of governing ourselves, we must first appoint a
government of our own, then we may safely welcome all Spaniards who
choose to join us, and give them equal rights with ourselves. If we
content ourselves with asking as privileges for what are our natural
rights, they may yield them to us now that they have no strength to
struggle against us, but it will only be to take them back again so soon
as they find themselves strong enough to do it."
* * * * *
While Don Alfonso and his two visitors were speaking in their way of the
meeting of the previous evening, the same subject was under discussion
from a very different point of view in the private apartments of his
Excellency the Viceroy. Marshal Liniers had also two visitors that
evening, Martin Alzaga and Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon.
The precautions taken by Don Gregorio Lopez had prevented unfriendly
intrusion, but had by no means sufficed to keep the meeting itself a
secret. Don Martin Alzaga had heard of it beforehand, and had warned the
Viceroy, counselling him to use his authority to prevent it; but Marshal
Liniers had refused to interfere, saying that so long as the citizens
obeyed him and paid the taxes they might meet as they liked in their own
houses. Then Don Martin had sought the aid of Don Roderigo, and between
them they had devised means for learning something of what should take
place at this meeting. Now they came together to visit the Viceroy, and
to lay before him the result of their enquiries.
"I think it strange of you, Don Roderigo, that you should move in this
matter," said the Viceroy, after they had conversed with him for about
an hour; "your son, your father-in-law, and some of your most intimate
friends are those most deeply implicated."
An angry flush spread over Don Roderigo's face as he answered:
"Nothing has yet been done. I suppose men have a right to speak their
opinions in their own houses, but it is always well for the authorities
to know what are the ideas of the people."
"When these ideas are treason they have no right to give utterance to
them anywhere," said Don Martin Alzaga; "and I call upon you Don
Santiago, to order the immediate arrest of Don Gregorio Lopez for
holding a seditious conference."
"I hope you will no do such thing," said Don Roderigo.
"Why not?" said Don Martin.
"The Patricios would mutiny at once, and we should hurry on a
catastrophe which it will require all our care to avoid."
"An example is necessary," said Don Martin.
"By due precautions we may avoid any such necessity, at any rate until
we are strong enough to act with safety to ourselves. I have enquired
into the particulars of this meeting simply as a precaution. In this
idea of offering the sovereignty of the Viceroyalty to the Princess
Carlota there is no danger whatever."
"I think it most dangerous," said the Viceroy.
"Where there is danger is in the growing arrogance of the Creoles," said
Don Roderigo. "The first thing that should be done is to disarm the
militia. We need them no longer, and so long as there exist in the city
entire regiments of Creoles, commanded by Creoles, the arrest of any
popular citizen would produce an outbreak."
"Which we would put down with our troops," said Don Martin Alzaga.
"And bring on the catastrophe at once. I know these men better than you
do, Don Martin, and my knowledge tells me that we have need of the
greatest caution. Miranda has his agents everywhere in South America."
"Evaña!" said the Viceroy. "He is the one man who I consider dangerous.
You did not mention him, Don Roderigo; was he not at that meeting last
night?"
"He was," said Don Roderigo; "but he spoke against this plan of inviting
the Princess Carlota."
"He wants neither princess nor queen," said Liniers; "he wants a
republic."
"Arrest him, then, and let him have a republic all to himself within
four walls," said Don Martin.
"I would advise your Excellency to avoid all extreme measures at
present," said Don Roderigo. "Our power is falling away from us; instead
of exciting popular opposition, I think it will be necessary to make
some concessions. The most enticing bait offered by Beresford when he
came, was freedom of commerce. Let us grant it; our treasury is nearly
empty, the English merchants will fill it for us, and we shall take the
most convincing argument out of the mouths of the demagogues of the
city."
"And the Consulado de las Indias, you forget them, Don Roderigo?" said
the Viceroy.
"The idea is perfectly inadmissible," said Don Martin Alzaga. "The first
thing to do is to disarm the militia, then we can repress by force any
attempt against our authority."
"The militia have done good service, and merit every consideration,"
said the Viceroy, "and they cost far less than the Spanish regiments."
"Then we are to do nothing, and let these Creoles conspire against us
until some day they set up a government of their own," replied Don
Martin, rising angrily from his seat. "Let us retire, Don Roderigo; it
is late, and here we do nothing."
The Viceroy rose from his chair, and bowing stiffly to both, dismissed
them.
"With this man we shall never do anything," said Don Martin to Don
Roderigo, as they crossed the Plaza de Los Perdices together. "Whilst
he is Viceroy the Creoles will keep their militia, and will do just what
they wish. I should not be surprised some day to see them demand a
'Cabildo Abierto.'"
"Yes," replied Don Roderigo; "unless they send us another Viceroy from
Spain we shall soon find ourselves unable to govern at all."
"We have turned out one Viceroy ourselves, and the result was good; we
will see if we cannot do it a second time."
"Beware, Don Martin; the Patricios had more to do with the appointment
of Liniers than we had."
"What matter to me the Patricios? With musketry we will teach them, if
they want a lesson."
CHAPTER IV
HOW THE SPANIARDS ALSO PROPOSED TO THEMSELVES A QUESTION, AND HOW DON
CARLOS EVAÑA PREPARED AN ANSWER
Winter gave place to spring, spring ripened into summer, and everything
in Buenos Aires seemed to go on unchanged, but in seeming only. As the
suns of the springtime covered the leafless trees with verdure, as the
buds developed themselves into flowers, the flowers into fruit, so the
thoughts of men developed themselves into distinct ideas, and these
ideas grew and flourished till they were ready to become deeds.
Don Roderigo had spoken to his son, had told him that he knew of the
idea he had brought back with him from Brazil, told him that it was
folly, and counselled him to have nothing more to do with it.
"But, father," replied Marcelino, "can you not see why the idea pleased
me? Do you not see that native Argentines are no longer the men they
were two years ago, and that Spain is no longer the same Spain either?
How can we accept Viceroys and laws from Spain, when Spain herself has
no king, and when Frenchmen rule over half the country? There are men
among us who speak of a republic, but most of us would be content with
far less. With a queen of our own from the royal family of Spain, the
government would remain in the hands of men such as you, who are
accustomed to govern instead of falling into the hands of inexperienced
men, who would bring anarchy upon us."
"I will not argue the question with you, Marcelino," replied Don
Roderigo, "but I merely warn you that so long as an armed Frenchman
treads the soil of Spain the integrity of the dominion of Spain must be
the first object with every true Spaniard."
Marcelino listened to his father unconvinced, yet stirred himself no
further in the matter, leaving it entirely in the hands of his friend
Don Manuel Belgrano, who, being a man of much greater experience and of
higher position than himself, was more likely to be able to bring it to
a successful issue. But he also refused to listen to the solicitations
of his friend Evaña; returning to his post at the Consulado, he passed
his days in the sedulous discharge of his duties, and his evenings in
study, or in pleasant social intercourse. At least one evening every
week he passed at the quinta of Don Alfonso, till Magdalen learned to
look for his visits as one of the pleasures of her monotonous life.
Sometimes Evaña accompanied him, but never did either of them speak a
word to Don Alfonso on the politics of the day. He was invariably civil
to them, but to him their visits gave no pleasure, and they could
plainly see that it was often a relief to him when they took their
departure.
To Evaña these visits were as a penance undertaken for the sake of his
friend, but of Don Alfonso's increasing taciturnity Marcelino took no
note, there was one there always ready to talk to him, or to listen to
what he said, who took a deep interest in all his studies, and whose
large grey eyes lighted up her plain features into a beauty all their
own as he spoke to her. To him the months passed quickly, and happy in
the present he gave but now and then a passing thought to the future.
As for Don Carlos Evaña, his thoughts were ever in the future, but his
hopes, his fears, and his projects he kept all to himself, working
continually with one object steadily in view, the overthrow of Spanish
rule, but working in a way which appeared to none to be work. His
estancia he but once visited all that spring, and then his visit was a
short one, nearly all his time he spent in the city. Don Cornelio
Saavedra, Colonel of the Patricios, offered him a commission in the
first battalion, the command of the company formerly led by Don Isidro
Lorea, which he declined, yet he practised fencing every day, and those
of his books which treated of the art of war were those most frequently
studied by him.
One battalion of the Patricios was known as that of the "Pardos y
Morenos," being composed entirely of men of colour, liberated slaves, or
the descendants of freedmen. At the headquarters of this battalion Evaña
was a frequent visitor. Don Cornelio Saavedra met him there one day and
asked him somewhat scornfully whether he would prefer a commission in
this regiment to one in the _corps d'elite_, but to him Evaña answered
that as _yet_ he had no wish to enter any regiment. Don Cornelio noticed
the accent on the word "yet," and replied:
"It would be difficult for even a philosopher to understand you, Don
Carlos; for me, I confess that I understand you not at all."
But the free negroes and mulattos understood something about Don Carlos,
of which Don Cornelio knew nothing, which was, that if they required
favour or assistance in any way, none was so ready to help them as Don
Carlos Evaña, and that the only way in which they could repay him for
any such service was to repeat to him all the tittle-tattle and gossip
they could collect among their women-folk concerning the saying and
doings of certain of the chief men of the city who were Spaniards.
* * * * *
Don Manuel Belgrano entered eagerly into a secret correspondence with
certain confidential friends of the Princess Carlota; despatched
missives to trusty friends of his own throughout the provinces,
advocating her claims; and kept alive the zeal of her friends in the
city by frequent secret conferences, which were held in the guise of
dinner-parties, or of excursions into the country, so baulking the
vigilance of Don Roderigo, or of any others unfriendly to the project.
So passed with him the spring very harmlessly, but his enthusiasm
greatly subsided as he learnt that even American air could not
liberalize a Bourbon of the royal house of Spain.
* * * * *
Don Martin Alzaga was looked up to by every Spaniard as the champion of
what all Spaniards thought their birthright, the right to rule after
their own fashion and their own will all the colonies of Spain. Don
Martin knew himself also that he was their champion and thought that he
possessed every qualification necessary for a leader in such a cause.
Tall, stern-featured, and spare of flesh, with a deep, harsh voice and
an authoritative manner, his outward appearance gave the exact index to
the man within. The events passing round him taught him nothing, the
belief was innate in him that Napoleon was invincible, and that the
Bourbons would never again rule in Spain. Acting upon these beliefs of
his, he conceived the idea of erecting a new Spain in America, of which
Buenos Aires should be the capital, and of which the government should
be entirely in the hands of Spaniards, looking to Ferdinand VII. as
their king, and acknowledging the authority of the Junta Central of
Spain so long as any such Junta should exist.
Don Martin had devoted great attention after the defeat of Whitelock to
enrolling and equipping an artillery corps composed entirely of
Spaniards. With this new corps and the Spanish infantry regiments
previously existing, he considered that he might safely set the
Patricios at defiance. So long as Liniers remained Viceroy, native
influence was paramount in the State, and nothing could be done towards
recovering the ground already lost. He took counsel with such of the
leading Spaniards as were in his confidence, among whom was Don Roderigo
Ponce de Leon. Together they wrote to the Junta Central of Spain, then
established at Seville, advising the recall of Marshal Liniers.
After the despatch of this letter, Don Roderigo counselled patience,
stating that with the arrival of a new Viceroy would come a fair
opportunity for the adoption of severe measures of repression. But
patience was by no means any part of the character of Don Martin Alzaga,
he chafed at the delay, and purposed within himself to take the supreme
authority into his own hands, until such time as a new Viceroy should
make his appearance, to whom he could surrender his power intact.
Colonel Don Francisco Elio, at that time Governor of Monte Video, was a
man of the same stamp as Don Martin Alzaga. To him Don Martin imparted
his plans. The first result of their understanding was that on the 24th
September Colonel Elio, justifying his proceedings by the friendly
reception given by the Viceroy to the envoy of Napoleon, which he
stigmatised as treachery to Spain, arrested the unfortunate envoy, who
was then in Monte Video, and openly rebelled against the authority of
Marshal Liniers, whom he denounced as a traitor.
Marshal Liniers took no steps whatever to crush this rebellion; the
Spaniards of Buenos Aires hailed the event with joy, as a presage of
what they would presently do themselves, and native Argentines were
filled with well-grounded alarm. Don Martin Alzaga exulted at the
success of his first step, and steadily prepared to follow it up.
Yet among the Spaniards there was one who felt alarm at this first
success. Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon saw that the deposition of the
Viceroy would be a much more difficult matter to achieve in Buenos Aires
than it had been in Monte Video, and that any false step would bring on
a collision with the people in which not only the power of the Viceroy
but Spanish rule altogether, might be overturned.
And among native Argentines there was one who for precisely the same
reason heard of the event with exultation. Don Carlos Evaña hailed with
joy any event which might bring his fellow-countrymen into open
collision with their rulers.
* * * * *
October passed over and nothing was done, so also November. Towards the
end of November, one warm afternoon on which the sun shone down upon the
city from a sky of intense blue, uncheckered by one white cloud, when
the white-washed houses cast a glare upon the streets such that it was a
torment to walk abroad, when steady-going citizens were just rousing
themselves from their siesta in the coolest recesses of their houses,
one man braved both the sun and the glare, left his house and walked
slowly along the deserted street till he reached the house of Don Fausto
Velasquez. Entering by the open doorway, he crossed the first patio,
passed through the zaguan into the second, and paused to clap his hands.
A mulatta girl issued from one of the side rooms at his summons, smiled
at him as she saw him, and came up to him saying:
"At your service, Don Carlos. What may be your pleasure?"
"The Señora Doña Josefina; will it be possible for me to speak with
her?" replied Don Carlos Evaña, for he it was who had thus come to
disturb the siesta of Doña Josefina.
"Certainly it will, Don Carlos," replied the mulatta. "It is late
already," she added, looking up at the sun. "If you will have the
goodness to pass to the sala, in one moment she will be with you."
Don Carlos passed to the sala as he was requested, but the one moment
had spun itself out to half an hour ere the folding doors opened, and
Doña Josefina glided into the room. She was dressed in a flowing robe of
some soft, white material, loosely girded below her ample bosom; the
short, loose sleeves left nearly the whole of her plump white arms
visible; the upper part of her dress was surmounted by a stiff sort of
ruff about three inches deep, which rose from her shoulders almost to
the level of her ears, and the dress itself was open in front to within
three inches of the girdle. Her luxuriant black hair was simply plaited
and wound round her head till it formed a sort of coronet, gold pendants
hung from her ears, and in her hand she carried a large fan with which
she fanned herself gently as she sailed down the large room to the
obscure corner in which Don Carlos had ensconced himself.
Don Carlos, reclining lazily in a low chair, was so absorbed in his own
thoughts that her noiseless approach over the soft carpet was
unperceived by him till she was close to him, when he started up from
his seat and bowed lowly to her without speaking. Then as she stretched
out her hand to him he raised it to his lips, an act of homage which the
lady received with perfect complacency, after which, leading her to a
sofa, he seated himself on a chair near to her saying:
"With your permission, Señora."
"It is yours, Don Carlos," replied the lady, languidly leaning one arm
upon a cushion, and with her head slightly inclined to one side, turning
her lustrous black eyes full upon him; then as he returned her glance
she smiled and added:
"Do you know, Carlos, you are a perfect heretic. I was going to deny
myself, but when I heard it was you I knew it was no use, and now your
face is as solemn as if you were going to a funeral. I suppose you have
something that you think very important to tell me."
"I have, Señora, or I should not have disturbed you at this hour."
"Well, I only hope it is not to recommend to me some other protegé, for,
frankly, he fatigues me, this Asneiros of yours. If you had not come I
was going to send for you before I went, to speak to you about him."
"Before you went! then you are going? I only heard of it this morning
from Marcelino, and I have come at once to ask you not to go."
"It is not quite settled yet, but I promised Constancia that I would
tell her certainly this evening. Constancia goes the day after to-morrow
and wants me to go with her. Justito has not been well lately and the
country air would do him good, but Fausto wants me to put off my visit
until the new year, why, I don't know."
"And I too want you to put off your visit."
"You! what interest can you have in keeping me in the city?" As she
spoke Doña Josefina leaned her head more to one side, and waving her fan
gently, cast a languishing glance above it, then suffered the long
lashes to fall over her eyes, veiling them.
"The interest is not mine, Señora, it is for the interest of the Patria
that I wish you to stop."
"Every one knows that to Don Carlos the interest of the Patriao is above
every other consideration, so I suppose I must stop and suffer another
month or six weeks of this heat in the city. But what can a poor thing
like me do for the Partia, Carlos?"
"One thing that I cannot do, and I know that the Partia is as dear to
you as it is to me, else I had not troubled you, Señora."
"Yes, Carlos," replied Doña Josefina, straightening herself up, dropping
her hands into her lap, and in a moment throwing off her usual languid
manner; "yes, Carlos, the Patria is dear to me as you say; though you
care nothing for me, you appreciate me rightly. You have confided to me
your hopes and plans; in what I can do you will find that I am as good a
patriot as you are. And I know that there is trouble before us; Fausto
has told me that the Spaniards will not be content until they have
deposed the Viceroy here as they have done in Monte Video. Deposed
Liniers! do you hear me, Carlos? These Spaniards are going to turn him
out and send him to Spain, perhaps in chains, because he is a
Frenchman!"
"If that were all, Señora, it would be little," replied Evaña, "that is
nothing but the first step; the next will be to disarm the Patricios,
and then----but it is not necessary to inquire what more."
"Disarm the Particios! never!" replied Doña Josefina, closing her fan
with a click, as though she had quite made up her mind on that point.
"If such are their ideas we must keep our Viceroy at any cost. We must
prevent the first step, and all the rest is safe."
"Exactly so, Señora. I have spoken the same thing to many, but you are
the first to whom I have spoken who has seen as I do the necessity of
risking everything, of daring everything, rather than permit the
Spaniards to annul an appointment we originally made."
A pleased smile came on to the face of the lady as Evaña spoke, then
looking down at her hands as she twirled her fan between her fingers,
she said in a low voice:
"We are agreed then, Carlos; tell me, what can I do?"
"When the Cabildo publishes a decree deposing Liniers, which they are
sure to do before long, they will rely upon the Spanish regiments to
enforce it if necessary. If Liniers calls upon the native regiments they
will come forward to a man to support him, but they are fewer in number
than the Spaniards and not so well organised, the result of a struggle
would be doubtful."
"Not at all, Carlos! You know not those young men how enthusiastic they
are, and Liniers they will follow to the death."
"Liniers will never call upon the Patricios to support him unless he
feels certain of success; he will yield without fighting. Now if we can
get one regiment of the Spanish troops to join us we shall then have the
superiority in numbers."
"And Gregorio's dragoons?"
"Also I shall have them at hand when the day comes, and the hussars of
Don Martin Rodriguez, all the cavalry is ours. Have no fear, Señora,
with one of the Spanish regiments of infantry, our superiority in
numbers and enthusiasm will secure us the victory. In the Andaluz
regiment nearly all the men are native Argentines, if one officer
pronounce in our favour the whole regiment will turn over to us."
Here Evaña paused and looked steadily at Doña Josefina.
"Asneiros!" ejaculated that lady, with a look of annoyance, then leaning
back again upon her cushions she commenced fanning herself.
"Yes, Señora, Asneiros. Among all the Spaniards there is no better
officer than Asneiros, and you can bring him over to us when the day
comes. I am sorry if he has given you any annoyance, but the kindness
you have shown him for these months past will prove a great service to
the Partia."
"There is one can do much more with Asneiros than I can, Carlos,"
replied Doña Josefina, looking away from him with a fresh flourish of
her fan.
"Impossible, Señora," replied Evaña; "anyone to whom you show favour is
at once your slave."
"How the men are blind," replied the lady, turning her eyes again upon
Evaña. "Always that Dolores comes to see me then comes Asneiros, and
whilst she is here he has no eyes for anyone else."
"Dolores!" exclaimed Evaña with a sudden start.
"Dolores! yes, Dolores, Señor Don Carlos. Does it appear to you strange
that that barbarian of a Spaniard should think more of Dolores than of
me?"
"But Dolores! And she?"
"What matters to you Dolores?"
Then as Evaña leaned back in his chair with a frown on his face without
answering, Doña Josefina bent forward and tapped him on the knee with
her fan, saying:
"Ah! Carlos! you are a great politician, and very wise and very secret,
but we ladies have our eyes and know how to use them. You are very
astute, and think you can hide from us what you hope and wish for, but
there are certain things that we know, and when the occasion comes, we
discover them. But we, we are friends, Carlos; have no fear, there is
one I know, for whose little fingers Dolores cares more than for the
whole body of that Asneiros."
Again leaning back upon her cushions, she turned her lustrous black eyes
upon him, gently fanning herself the while.
"All the more necessary, then, for you to remain in town," said Evaña,
after a pause. "Doña Constancia goes to the quinta the day after
to-morrow, but she does not like Asneiros, she will not ask him to the
quinta, but if you go he will visit you there, and he will be away when
we want him, for we cannot tell when the day will come."
"Look you, Carlos," said Doña Josefina, interrupting him, "I had a plan
for that Asneiros which would have suited us all very well. Every
Wednesday I have two visitors, Dolores and Magdalen Miranda. They come
to see each other, and are great friends. You have met them here on
Wednesdays. Who you came to see you have never told me, but I am not one
to whom it is necessary to tell things. I asked Asneiros to come that he
might meet Magdalen, but when you are not there to make Dolores talk to
you this gentleman can talk only to her, and for the Inglesita he has
not one glance. Then when Marcelino can manage it, he comes always for
at least one hour on Wednesdays, and has neither eyes nor words for
anyone but for Magdalen. These Wednesdays, which were to me a pleasure,
are now the bane of my life, everything goes contrary, and I counted
that by going out with Constancia I should put an end to them."
"You intended Magdalen for this Spaniard?"
"Precisely so, and she thinks nothing of him, and watches the door with
all her eyes till Marcelino comes. That Marcelino should amuse himself
with her is well enough, so long as it pass not amusement. Young men are
not all like you, Carlos; they must have amusement, and with each new
face they see they think they are in love. I wanted Elisa to come also
on Wednesdays, and she came in the winter, but after Marcelino came back
from Brazil she comes only in the evenings. That is all through
Magdalen, the insignificant little creature; I begin to lose patience
with her."
"Magdalen is a great deal too good for Asneiros," said Evaña.
"What an idea! Even he is good enough for that snub-nosed little thing.
Think you what is her father? A miserable, without soul. And what has
he? Just enough live to on. Not even presentable would Magdalen be but
that we had befriended her."
"Possibly not, Señora; you have been very kind to her. But do not
afflict yourself, let affairs arrange themselves. For Dolores there is
not the slightest fear. She is kind to Asneiros, for he rings praises of
Marcelino in her ear, and that is always music to Dolores, but more
there is nothing."
"Ah! Carlos! with what confidence you speak," said Doña Josefina, with a
toss of her head, and smiling.
"Let us leave that, Señora. What matters to us at present is that you
keep, and increase if you can, your influence over Asneiros. How to do
it you know much better than I can tell you."
"Do you want me to make love to him on my own account?" asked the lady,
with a supplicating glance.
"Far be it from me to indicate the 'how.' One thing only I ask of you to
promise me, which is that you do not leave the city at present."
"And when then will your lordship give me permission to go?"
"When we have tried our strength with the Spaniards, and have beaten
them."
"Let it be so. I give you my promise."
"And the Patria will some day thank you, and know you as one of her most
faithful children," replied Evaña, rising from his chair.
"Sit down, Carlos; do not go yet. Have you nothing more to say to me?"
"The object of my visit is accomplished."
"And already you go? Sit down again, Carlos. The Patria is your first
love, and we are going to do what we can for her; but after her there is
another love, come and talk to me of that."
"I have but one love, Señora," replied Evaña, standing before her, and
twirling his hat round with his long, white fingers.
"Sit down Carlos, and I will talk to you of Dolores," said Doña
Josefina, with a full glance of her speaking eyes, before which his
stern eyes sank back abashed.
"Not now, Señora," replied Don Carlos, in a voice in which there was so
clear an accent of pain that Doña Josefina, after looking at him for a
moment in perplexity, insisted no longer upon his remaining, but rose
herself from the sofa, and walked with him to the large folding-door
which gave exit to the patio.
"Lose all fear, Carlos," said she to him as he stepped out into the
sunshine; "between the two of us we will arrange this barbarian of a
Spaniard, and turn him into a patriot."
"That I fear we can never do," replied Evaña; "but if he serve us as we
wish him the rest is no matter."
"If he serve us well we will give him the Inglesita as his reward," said
Doña Josefina; then adding with a laugh, "and a well-matched couple they
will be."
To this Evaña made no answer, but with a low bow took his departure.
CHAPTER V
HOW THE VICEROY TOOK COUNSEL WITH DON RODERIGO
Weeks passed till it was the third week in December. One evening in that
week Don Carlos Evaña mounted his horse and galloped out to the Quinta
de Ponce. The next morning at dawn he was again in the saddle, galloping
over the level plains southwards to the estancia of Don Francisco Viana,
where he purposed passing the noon-tide heat, and thereafter in the cool
of the evening pursuing his way without halting till he should reach his
own estancia.
While Don Carlos Evaña so rested at midday, Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon
sat conversing with the Viceroy in his private room at the fort. Marshal
Liniers had sent for him, telling him that there was matter of great
moment on which he wished to consult him. Don Roderigo sat with an open
letter in his hand, which he had just been reading; his face was very
thoughtful, he seemed to be anxiously debating within himself how he
should answer the Viceroy, who was speaking rapidly and whose face
showed evident marks of excitement and something of indignation.
"Do you know who he is, this Don Saturnino Rodriguez Peña?" asked the
Viceroy.
"Perfectly. He is a brother of Don Nicolas," replied Don Roderigo. "He
is the man who put that folly into the head of my son, of which I told
you some months ago."
"But you have since told me that it remained there, and that nothing was
done?"
"And so far as my son is concerned I know that nothing has been done."
"But she speaks most plainly of a conspiracy against me? I shall write
to the Prince-regent and demand the arrest of this Don Saturnino."
"If there be any such conspiracy the publication of this letter, written
to you by the Princess herself, would at once put an end to it."
"The Princess Carlota warns me of a conspiracy, so there must be
something."
"It may be; I too have heard rumours, but take little note of them. Your
appointment as Viceroy can only be legally annulled by the Junta of
Seville, and, failing that, your great popularity secures your
authority."
"My popularity while it exists; but if the people themselves pronounce
against me? Think you that I will uphold my authority by force against
the will of the people?"
"Your popularity would vanish at once were you to do so."
"If because I was born in France the people trust me no longer let them
say so."
"Then if the people speak clearly their distrust of you, you will
resign?"
To this Liniers did not answer, passing his hand across his forehead,
leaning back in his chair with an air of great discontent, and Don
Roderigo continued:
"Permit me to tell you, Don Santiago, that if you yield at once to a
popular cry you sap the basis of all authority. If the people, applying
through the corporations of the city, should request you to resign, I
think you may take the matter into serious consideration, but not
sooner."
"There is some secret conspiracy going forward; am I to take no steps to
prevent it ripening into a rebellion?"
"Wait till we have more certain information, the Cabildo will advise you
at once if there be danger of any attempt against your authority."
"How can I tell that the Cabildo itself is not in the conspiracy?"
replied the Viceroy, looking sternly at Don Roderigo; "all are
Spaniards. Elio and those who support him in Monte Video are all
Spaniards. I distrust the Cabildo more than I do the people."
"You may have your reasons of which I know nothing," said Don Roderigo;
"but the Cabildo would never venture upon any steps against you unless
they were perfectly secure of the general acquiescence of the city."
"Then you acknowledge that you Spaniards would depose me if you were
able to do so?"
"In the present state of affairs in the mother-country it is natural
that a Frenchman be looked upon with jealousy, not only by Spaniards but
by the Creoles also. The people murmured greatly at the friendly
reception you gave to the envoy sent by Napoleon last August."
"But the people at any rate were satisfied when I ordered the
proclamation of Ferdinand VII.?"
"It was on that very day that some of them discussed together the
propriety of setting him aside in favour of his sister the Princess
Carlota."
"True, I did badly in passing over that affair without notice. In that
affair the first to move was your son, and because he was your son I
consented to pass it over. See now your gratitude; without doubt, if
there be a conspiracy he and his friend Don Carlos Evaña are the prime
movers in it, and depend upon your concurrence and that of all the
Spaniards."
"If there be any conspiracy I feel quite sure that neither my son nor
Don Carlos Evaña have any part in it."
"I have heard Don Carlos speak freely his ideas years ago, and I have
not forgotten it; I tell you that this Evaña is by nature a conspirator,
and where he goes there goes Don Marcelino also."
"In this you are mistaken, I can assure you," replied Don Roderigo
warmly. "Don Carlos left the city yesterday for his estancia, saying
that it was uncertain when he would return, and Marcelino thinks of
nothing but of his duties at the Consulado."
"But he has his ideas, which require checking. If it were not that he is
your son I should arrest him and search his papers to discover what
correspondence he has carried on with this Don Saturnino Rodriguez Peña,
who has certainly, as you will have seen by that letter, some regular
correspondents in this city."
Don Roderigo rose from his chair and walked several times thoughtfully
up and down the room, then reseating himself, he said:
"Do not let any regard for me keep you from any step which may be
necessary for the vindication of your authority. I have months since
spoken to my son, and I know that he has done nothing in this matter of
the Princess Carlota since he first mooted it. Still his arrest may
serve him as a warning not to meddle in affairs beyond his proper
sphere."
"Thanks, Don Roderigo," replied the Viceroy with effusion. "This is a
great sacrifice you make to me. I shall order his arrest at once, but to
show you that I am actuated by no unfriendly feeling towards yourself I
will entrust the examination of his papers to you together with my
private secretary."
"That I must beg to decline. I can leave the examination of his papers
with entire confidence to anyone whom you may appoint." So saying Don
Roderigo took up his hat from a chair near him and rose to go, then
adding, "In anything that I can serve you always count upon me, Don
Santiago," he went his way.
* * * * *
As Don Roderigo sat alone in his own room that evening, the door opened,
and in walked Don Martin Alzaga.
"Now what do you say about our Viceroy, that Liniers?" said he.
"What has he done now?" asked Don Roderigo.
"Do not you know? He has arrested Don Marcelino and seized his papers."
"I knew it," said Don Roderigo quite calmly.
"You know it, and you sit there as if it were a matter of no importance!
The news has spread through the city and has caused general
indignation."
"So much the better, that was just what I wanted."
"The better! Then you are agreeable that this Frenchman shall do what he
likes in our city, and put anyone in prison as he chooses without
consulting us?"
"He consulted me about it this morning, and I see that he has done
perfectly well _for us_. To Marcelino a few days' imprisonment will do
no harm. Marcelino is young, and has his ideas; in case of any important
event happening within the next few days he might be tempted to some
course which would prejudice his future."
"I begin to understand you," said Don Martin thoughtfully. "Marcelino is
very partial to the Viceroy, and some event may occur within a few days
with which it is well for him that he should have nothing to do. You
have asked the Viceroy to arrest him, what was your pretext?"
"You mistake; the idea came from the Viceroy himself. He has some
erroneous ideas in his head, and has acted upon them. If we make good
use of this event it may produce some popular demonstration. Liniers
values more than anything else his popularity, if we can persuade the
people to cry out against him he will resign, and there will be no
necessity for any Pronunciamiento."
"I see you always wish to go your own way about it. You want to turn the
militia against him. Well, do what you can, but in this I cannot help
you; more dangerous than Liniers to us, is the pride of these
Patricios."
"All that we have to do is to persuade the militia to keep quiet. Until
the new Viceroy arrives I warn you, Don Martin, that any attempt at
coercion will bring on a struggle with them which we must avoid at any
cost."
"You always fear those Patricios," said Don Martin impatiently. "I came
to speak to you about your son, but as you do not object to his
imprisonment I see that it is a false step of this Liniers of which it
is for us to take due advantage."
* * * * *
Later on that same evening, at the house of Don Fausto Velasquez Don
Roderigo complained bitterly of the insult he had received in the
unwarrantable imprisonment of his eldest son.
* * * * *
Don Carlos Evaña did not make a long stay at his estancia this time, on
the fifth evening from the day he left the city he was again at the
Quinta de Ponce. Short as had been his absence, he had managed to spend
one day at Las Barrancas with Colonel Lopez, and the very day that he
left him, the Colonel sent out messengers right and left summoning his
men to meet at the Barrancas on the 25th December for a fortnight's
drill.
On the eventide of this day on which Don Carlos again visited the Quinta
de Ponce, Dolores was seated under the front verandah of the house,
holding on her knee a stout little boy, her cousin Justiniano Velasquez,
who had been entrusted to her care by his mother until such time as she
should leave the city and resume care of him herself. Dolores was very
fond of her cousin, and was pleased to have the care of him. Her
affection was fully reciprocated by the little fellow who teased her and
coaxed her to let him have his own wilful way in everything, was an all
day long trouble to her, and rewarded her by an unlimited amount of
caresses, and by screaming with all his might if he lost sight of her
for an instant when he was awake. She called him the plague of her life,
and was never so happy as when she was ministering to his manifold
wants.
On this evening Dolores was somewhat pale and less cheerful than was her
wont, yet as Don Carlos stepped into the verandah to salute her he
thought he had never before seen her looking so beautiful. There was a
pensive thoughtfulness on her face not often seen there, which added an
indescribable charm to the smile of welcome she bestowed upon him.
"How soon you are back," she said; "as you said your stay at your
estancia was uncertain we did not expect you for a month."
"What has happened to you? You look triste, does that little rogue
plague you?"
"Ah! Don Carlos, you do not know," replied Dolores, bending over the
boy, and with difficulty keeping back her tears; "Marcelino is in
prison, three days ago he was arrested by an order from the Viceroy and
is in prison."
"Marcelino in prison!" exclaimed Evaña. "On what charge? what has he
done?"
"Nothing. We know nothing of why he is in prison. Papa was here
yesterday, you may imagine how angry he was, and he says all the city is
indignant about it. But why he is put in prison no one knows. They went
to our house and searched his room, and took away all his papers. Poor
mamma, she wanted to go back to the city to see him, but papa would not
let us go, and there he is with no one to speak to him, and he will
think we care nothing about it."
"No, that he will not think, he knows you better."
"What a pity that you were away. Papa says that if you had been there
you would have stirred up some demonstrations, and the Viceroy would
have been forced to set him at liberty."
"Where is he imprisoned?"
"At the Cabildo. He is not in a dungeon; papa says he is only under
arrest, but no one is allowed to speak to him. One has been very active
and offered to papa to break into the Cabildo and rescue him by
force--Captain Asneiros; his Andaluces would follow him anywhere, and
there are some of Marcelino's Morenos in one battalion of the Patricios,
who, he says, would dare anything for their old chief. But papa would
not let him; he says that the indignation of the whole city will force
Marshal Liniers to set him free. Ah! if you were only there, Don Carlos,
you would do more than Captain Asneiros, and even than papa, for Don
Cornelio Saavedra and the Patricios would all listen to you, and without
them the Viceroy is nothing, papa told me so."
"Asneiros!" said Evaña to himself, rising from his seat and walking up
and down the verandah, "Asneiros! I begin to understand. This is a trap,
and if we are careless we will run our necks into the noose."
Then again he paused in front of Dolores and asked her:
"But nothing has been done, he remains in prison, and no one has spoken
to him, not even Don Roderigo?"
"No one. Not even papa is allowed to speak to him, and nothing has been
done, but to-morrow you will be there, and something will be done," said
Dolores, looking up at Evaña with a flush on her cheek, and a trustful
look in her gray eyes.
"Not to-morrow, but to-night I will go in, but I do not tell you that I
will do anything to set Marcelino at liberty. Believe me, it may be best
for him to remain where he is just at present, but not for long, not for
long. This affair will not have the end which they think it will."
"Don Carlos!" exclaimed Dolores; "best for him to remain in prison! What
has he done, Don Carlos? You know something."
"He has done nothing to deserve imprisonment, yet for other reasons it
may be best for him to remain where he is for a few days. He is innocent
and therefore he is in no danger."
"Innocent! of course he is, and yet you would let them treat him as a
criminal, and will do nothing to help him. Are you not my friend, Don
Carlos? Are you not his brother?"
"I am your friend, he is my brother. Trust me, he shall not remain in
prison longer than is necessary."
Up to this time little Justiniano had sat quietly on Dolores' knee
listening to their talk but at the word friend he started up, saying:
"You are Lola's friend? I have no brother, but I have a friend too. Tell
me, Lola, again, where is my friend? Talk to me about my friend the
Englishman."
A deep flush spread over Dolores' face as she clasped the boy in her
arms kissing him.
"He is away over the sea, Justito, fighting the French for England and
for Spain," she said.
"He is a soldier," said Justito. "When I am big I will be a soldier, and
will go and fight the French for him, so that he may come back. He said
he would come back, didn't he, Lola?"
"Yes, dear; and some day he will come," said Dolores, again kissing the
boy and bending over him so as to hide her face from Evaña.
"Then you must not be triste, Lola; it makes me feel bad to see you
triste, Lola; yesterday you were crying and it made Justito sad to see
you," said the boy, patting her cheeks with his two little hands. "Some
day when I am big, then I will go and bring back my friend from away
over the sea. Is it far to go, Lola?"
"Yes, dear, hundreds and hundreds of leagues, and all water, with the
waves going up and down and tossing the ships about."
"Why did he go so far, Lola?"
"He had to go where the King of England sent him, for he is a soldier."
"Poor Lola," said the boy, again patting her cheeks, "again you are
crying, Lola; who makes you triste, Lola?"
"A wicked man who has put Marcelino in prison. You love Marcelino, don't
you, Justito?"
"Yes, oh so much! When is he coming again, Lola? Days that he has not
been here."
But Dolores could prattle to the boy no more, her sobs choked her speech
and he threw his arms round her neck, kissing her and looking angrily
back at Don Carlos, as if he thought he was the cause of all her sorrow.
"Come to me, Justito, and I will tell you about Marcelino, and about
your friend," said Don Carlos, bending with one knee to the pavement and
holding out his arms to the boy.
"No, no, go away," said Justito. "Are you the wicked man who has made
Lola cry?"
"No, no, Justito, Don Carlos is not wicked; he is going to take
Marcelino out of prison, and then Lola won't cry any more," said
Dolores.
Then Justito jumped from Dolores' arms and ran to Don Carlos Evaña.
"You will go, won't you, and bring Marcelino back with you, it makes
Justito bad to see Lola cry?" said he.
"I will go, and will not come here again till I bring Marcelino with
me," said Don Carlos, raising the boy up in his arms and kissing him.
Dolores rose from her seat with a smile on her face as Evaña spoke.
"Always my friend and his brother," said she, then taking the boy from
him she led him away with her into the house.
Don Carlos Evaña only remained long enough at the quinta to speak a few
words to Doña Constancia, and to learn from her all she knew concerning
the imprisonment of his friend Marcelino. Then, declining her urgent
invitation to pass the night at the quinta, he remounted his horse and
galloped away through the darkness for the city.
CHAPTER VI
THE EVE OF A GREAT EVENT
It was nine o'clock when Don Carlos Evaña reached the city. Without
stopping either to change his dress or to take food, he had no sooner
dismounted than he went straight to the house of Don Gregorio Lopez. In
the first patio he met Valentin.
"Don Carlos! Back already, I am so glad," said Valentin. "You know what
has happened?"
"Marcelino has been imprisoned, that I know. Is there anything else?"
"That is enough, I think," replied Valentin. "He has been three days in
prison, and nothing has been done. It is scandalous, but we will soon do
something. There are some men here this evening in consultation with my
father, pass forward, you will find them in the dining-room."
"Then has nothing been done?"
"Nothing."
"I am glad of it. There is more in this than you know of, my young
friend, be content yet for a few days to do nothing."
So saying, Evaña passed on to the dining-room, where he found Don
Gregorio Lopez in consultation with Don Fausto Velasquez, Don Cornelio
Saavedra, Don Manuel Belgrano, and four others. Evaña joined them, and
for an hour they remained talking earnestly together, then, as some of
them rose to go, Don Manuel Belgrano said:
"Yet after all I do not like the idea of leaving my young friend in
prison, when, if that be the crime charged against him, I am the real
culprit."
"For many reasons I agree with Don Carlos," said Don Gregorio, "that it
is the wisest course."
"Above all things it is necessary that they take the initiative," said
Don Cornelio Saavedra. "The Señor Don Santiago Liniers is a man of no
decision, and in order that he put full confidence in us we must show
our acquiescence in any measure that he may think fit to adopt."
"We all know well what Liniers is," said Don Gregorio. "If we arouse in
any way his suspicions, Don Martin and the bishop, between them, will
persuade him to resign."
"If he resign we shall have in his place a Junta of Spaniards, and we
all know what that means," said Evaña.
"I for my part assure you that we will have no Junta," said Don
Cornelio. "Do you know, Señor Evaña, that if you had not fortunately
returned so soon from your estancia I think we should have made some
false step. Don Roderigo has infected us all with his own indignation;
we must not forget that Don Roderigo is a Spaniard, and in these days it
is not well to take everything that a Spaniard says, quite for what the
words mean."
"Then let it be so," said Belgrano. "If Don Roderigo does not release
him without our help he must yet remain some days in prison. Afterwards
we will explain everything to him."
"I am sorry for him," said Don Fausto. "To pass these hot summer days
shut up in a small room would kill me very soon, but when Don Gregorio
and Don Carlos Evaña both say it is for the best I say no more."
"One word more, Don Cornelio," said Evaña. "Have you not yet any idea
when the Pronunciamiento is likely to take place?"
"It may take place any day," replied Don Cornelio. "But if nothing
occurs to hurry it on, I expect we shall see something on the occasion
of the municipal elections on the 1st January."
"The 1st January leaves not many days to wait now, and we are ready. In
future years we shall look back upon that day as a great epoch in the
history of the Argentine people. Upon you, Don Cornelio, depends the
present welfare and the future greatness of a young nation; to you our
country entrusts her destinies in the most critical moment of her
existence." So saying, and looking fixedly upon Don Cornelio Saavedra,
Evaña bowed to him with great solemnity and retired.
"The ideas of the Señora Evaña," said Don Fausto Velasquez, laughing.
"When shall we see the end of them?"
"In this the Señor Evaña is not mistaken," said Don Gregorio Lopez. "May
God help you, Don Cornelio, and remember that where you go you have an
entire people behind you, who have placed their destinies in your
hands."
* * * * *
Three days after this, as Captain Asneiros returned to his quarters
after an early drill and inspection, he found a young slave waiting for
him with a message from Doña Josefina Viana, who requested him to call
upon her that evening without fail. The swarthy face of the Spaniard
brightened with pleasure as he listened to the words of the little
negro, but:
"It is well, you can go," was all his answer.
In the evening twilight Doña Josefina, dressed in a graceful negligée
fashion well suited to the season, sat in a low chair beside one of the
windows of her sala, which was thrown wide open, gazing out into the
street. Young men as they passed doffed their hats, bowing lowly, and
many of them paused, hoping that the graceful head which answered their
salute with a gentle inclination might bend yet further forward and
speak, and so give them an excuse for loitering there leaning against
the iron bars, and talking for a few minutes. If any such favour had
been granted to any of them they would have strutted off after
exchanging a few conventional phrases, with the feeling that a great
honour had been bestowed upon them, of which they might speak with great
access of personal dignity in whatever social circle they might spend
the rest of the evening. Men of mature years who passed that window were
even more eager and obsequious than the young men in their manner of
salutation, but after one glance at the figure reclining there behind
the iron reja, enveloped in clouds of gauzy muslin, half shaded from
view by the light curtains which draped the window, they passed on
without any pause, perchance muttering to themselves:
"She awaits some one, our queen of the saloons, who may that fortunate
be?"
To the salutations of both young and old Doña Josefina had but one
stereotyped answer, a slight lowering of her fan, and a still slighter
inclination of the head, with half-closed eyes. Thus she sat for about
half an hour, when a man of medium stature, slightly built, but with
square shoulders and very erect bearing, paused before the window. He
was dressed in a coat of dark crimson velvet, embroidered with gold
lace; his waistcoat, also richly embroidered, came well down over his
thighs; his small-clothes were of black satin, and he wore black silk
stockings and jewelled buckles in his shoes. The frill of his shirt
front and the ruffles at his wrists were of the finest lace. His hair
was gathered together behind, tied with a ribbon, and powdered. In one
hand he carried a thick golden-headed cane, and in the other his
three-cornered hat, which he had removed as he performed an elaborate
salute before the window. By his dress he was a dandy of the first
water, but of rather an antiquated fashion, but his face and carriage
were those of a stern soldier.
The large black eyes of Doña Josefina dilated with surprise and with
something of amusement, as she looked at this finely-dressed gentleman
who had paused before her window; for a moment she held her fan before
her face to conceal the smile which played upon her lips, then bending
forward she returned his salutation with great affability and said:
"Come in, Don Ciriaco, the hours that I have been watching for you."
"Then with your permission, Señora," replied Asneiros with another bow
as he moved away towards the door of the house.
Springing lightly to her feet, Doña Josefina drew forward an easy-chair
and placed it at the other side of the window opposite to her, in such a
position that such daylight as yet remained should fall full upon the
face of anyone seated in it, and that he should be plainly visible to
anyone passing in the street, then she pushed her own chair further back
so that her face should be quite shaded by the window-curtain, and a
portion of her dress only should be visible to anyone who might glance
in at the window. Hardly had she reseated herself ere Asneiros entered
the sala. Somewhat awkwardly he took her hand in his as she held it out
to him in welcome; for a moment she feared he was going to raise it to
his lips, however, he refrained, and seated himself in the easy-chair
she had placed ready for him.
"How is this, Señor Capitan?" said the lady. "In moments so critical as
the present can the Viceroy spare even for one day the services of one
of his most trusted officers?"
"You advert to my gallop out to the Quinta de Ponce yesterday, Señora?"
replied Asneiros. "Have then my movements so much interest for you?"
"You saw then my little Justiniano?" replied Doña Josefina, performing
meantime some elaborate movements with her fan.
"Yes, Señora, I saw him, and he sends to you many expressions of his
love. Better he could not be."
"Cruel! And you could remain a whole night in the city and yet not come
to tell me of him!"
"It was late, Señora, when I returned, but even without your message I
should have been bold enough to have presented myself to you this
evening."
"And my good Constancia and Dolores?"
"Well, Señora, but sad, as you may believe, whilst the son and the
brother suffers unmerited imprisonment."
"You went to speak to them of him, and to tell them what you are doing
for him?"
"To speak to them of him, yes, Señora, without that I would never have
had the temerity to present myself there. But yesterday Doña Constancia
was all that the amiable can be, and the beautiful Señorita was if
possible more of an angel than ever, Señora, yesterday I felt myself in
Paradise, for the first time in my life I found myself admitted to the
confidence of two angelic creatures, who wept as they spoke to me of
their sorrow, and who looked to me with confidence and with smiles when
I assured them that my own life should pay the forfeit for his liberty,
if it were not otherwise to be achieved."
"And are they the only women who ever treated you with confidence?"
"Ah! forgive me, Señora, but when I think of them and their sorrow I can
think of nothing else. And it was sorrow to me that I could not tell
them that I had done anything for him, I could only tell them what I
wished to do."
"What did you wish to do?"
"Señora, you are cruel to me! Did not I offer to break into the prison
at night with my own men and set him free, at any risk to myself?"
"You did, and I told you to do nothing till I had enquired further into
the matter. You have done well to listen to me, for there is more in
this imprisonment of Marcelino that I well understand even yet. And
ill-considered violence might have resulted in great disaster to us all,
which Marcelino himself would have been the first to deplore. Now I have
sent for you to know if you are yet ready to risk everything for your
old chief?"
"Señora, you give me back my life, for I can obey you no longer if you
tell me yet to do nothing. When I saw that angelical creature in tears
for the sake of her brother, I could restrain myself no longer. I laid
my hand on my heart, and swore to her that I would never see her more
till her brother was free. Señora, I have listened to you and to Don
Roderigo, and as yet have done nothing, but now I must do something, I
have begun to-day. I have spoken to several of my men, all of whom will
follow me. This night, if you wish it, I will seize the Cabildo, but I
had planned to leave it for one day longer, as I have not yet spoken to
any of my brother officers, and if they do not join me I must secure
them."
As Asneiros spoke of Dolores, Doña Josefina leaned back in her chair,
pressing her fan to her forehead, and so completely hiding her face.
When he paused she still kept her face concealed, and did not answer.
There was silence between them for a minute, then Asneiros resumed:
"You do not like to speak, Señora; there is no necessity that you
should. It is not needful that you should know anything further of my
plan. If possible I shall achieve the rescue without bloodshed. There is
great excitement among the troops. I do not know if you are aware of it,
but if I shout 'Down with the Viceroy' there is no Spaniard will raise
his musket against me."
Then Doña Josefina renewed her manoeuvres with her fan, opening it and
fanning herself gently, then shutting it again with a click. A girl
entered the ante-sala with a lighted lamp, which she placed upon a small
table in a corner, and then retired. Doña Josefina looked round at her
as she moved about. Then, as she closed the door behind her, she again
leaned back in her chair, gave two or three flourishes with her fan, and
with a low sigh said:
"You think very much of my little niece, Señor Capitan?"
"How is it possible for anyone to know a creature so amiable and not
think much of her?" replied Asneiros.
"Then because she, an ignorant little girl, asks you to do something for
her you will do it even though I request you not?"
"Señora, what is this that you say to me? She has not asked me to do
anything, but she weeps for her brother who is in prison, and I have
sworn that I will rescue him. You have asked me if I am ready, do you
yet want me to delay?"