ACROSS COUNTRY.
On the morrow, Doña Clara appeared, if not completely recovered from
her previous emotion, at least in a far more satisfactory state of
health than her brother had dared to hope after the fainting fit of
which he had been witness.
No allusion was made, however, by one or the other to the previous
evening's conversation. Doña Clara, although very pale, and excessively
weak, affected gaiety and even merriment; she carried matters so far as
even to take a short walk in the garden, leaning on her brother's arm.
But the latter was not deceived by this conduct; he understood that
his sister, vexed at having talked to him too frankly, was trying
to lead him astray as to her condition, by affecting a gaiety far
from her heart. Still, he did not let anything be seen, and when the
great heat of the day had passed, he pretended a desire to visit the
surrounding country, in order to give his sister a little liberty:
taking his fusil, he mounted his horse, and rode out, accompanied by
the Major-domo, who offered to act as his guide during his excursion.
Doña Clara made but a faint effort to keep him at home; in her heart
she was pleased to be alone for a few hours.
The young man galloped across country with a feverish impatience.
He was in a state of excitement, for which he could not account to
himself; in spite of his egotism, he felt himself interested in his
sister's misfortune; so much humble resignation involuntarily affected
him, and he would have been happy to infuse a little joy into this
heart crushed by grief; on the other hand, the Major-domo's singular
story incessantly returned to his mind, and aroused his curiosity
in the highest degree. Still he would not for anything in the world
have questioned his sister about the obscure parts of this narrative,
or merely let her know that he was aware of her relations with the
filibusters of St. Kitts.
The two men had entered the savannah territory, and talking of
indifferent topics; but as the Count could not get rid of the
recollection of what the Major-domo had told him, he turned sharply
toward him at a certain moment.
"By the way," he asked him sharply, "I have not yet seen my sister's
confessor. How do you call him?"
"Fray Arsenio, Excellency; he is a Franciscan monk."
"Yes, that's it, Fray Arsenio. Well, why does he persist in remaining
invisible?"
"For an excellent reason, Excellency; the reason I had the honour of
explaining to you last evening."
"That is possible--I do not say you did not; but everything is so
confused in my mind," he said, with feigned indifference, "that I no
longer remember what you told me on the subject; you will therefore
oblige me by repeating it."
"That is easy, Excellency. Fray Arsenio left us at the moment when we
landed, and has not reappeared at the hatto since."
"That is singular: and does not Doña Clara appear alarmed and vexed at
so long an absence?"
"Not at all, Excellency; the señora never speaks of Fray Arsenio, and
does not inquire whether he has returned or not."
"It is strange," the young man muttered to himself; "what is the
meaning of this mysterious absence?"
After this aside, the Count suddenly broke off the conversation and
resumed the chase. They had been absent from the hatto for some hours,
and had insensibly gone a very considerable distance; the sun was
nearing the horizon, and the Count was preparing to turn back, when
suddenly a great noise of breaking branches was heard at the skirt of
the forest, from which they were only separated by a few shrubs, and
several wild oxen dashed on to the savannah, pursued, or, to speak more
correctly, hunted, by a dozen hounds, which barked furiously while
snapping at them.
The oxen, seven or eight in number, passed like a tornado two horse
lengths from the Count, to whom this unexpected apparition caused such
a surprise, that he remained for a moment motionless, not knowing what
to do.
The savage animals, still harassed by the hounds, which did not leave
them, made a sudden wheel, and turning back, seemed trying to enter the
forest at the spot where they had left it; but they had hardly resumed
their flight in that direction, when a fusil was discharged, and a
bull, struck in the head, fell dead on the ground.
At the same instant a man emerged in his turn from the forest, and
walked up to the animal, which was lying motionless and nearly hidden
in the tall grass, without appearing to notice the two Spaniards, and
reloading as he walked along the long fusil he had, in all probability,
just employed so adroitly.
This hunting episode was accomplished more quickly than it has taken
us to describe it, so that Don Sancho had not quite recovered from his
surprise, when the Major-domo bent down to his side and said in a low
voice, half choked with terror--
"Excellency, you wanted to see a _ladrón_. Well, look carefully at that
man, he is one."
Don Sancho was endowed with undaunted courage. When his first surprise
had passed, he became again completely master of himself, and regained
all his coolness.
After securing his seat on the saddle, he advanced slowly toward the
stranger, while examining him curiously. He was a man still young, of
middle height, but well and powerfully built; his regular, majestic,
and rather handsome features displayed boldness and intelligence. Cold,
heat, rain, and sunshine to which he had doubtless for a long time been
exposed, had given his face a decided bistre hue; and although he wore
his full beard, it was cut rather short.
His dress, of almost primitive simplicity, so to speak, was composed of
two shirts, breeches, and jacket, all of canvas, but so covered with
spots of blood and grease, that it was impossible to recognise its
original colour. He wore a leathern belt, from which hung on one side
a case of crocodile skin, containing four knives and a bayonet; on the
other, a large calabash, stopped with wax, and a hide bag containing
bullets. He wore across his shoulders a small coat of fine canvas,
rolled up and reduced to its smallest compass; and in lieu of shoes,
boots made of untanned oxhide. His long hair, fastened with a _víbora_
skin, escaped from under a fur cap which covered his head, and was
protected by a peak in front.
His fusil, whose barrel was four and a half feet in length, could be
easily recognized through the strange form of its stock, as turned out
by Brachie, of Dieppe, who with Gélin, of Nantes, had the monopoly of
manufacturing arms for the adventurers. This fusil was of the calibre
of sixteen to the pound.
The appearance of this man, thus armed and accoutred, had really
something imposing and formidable about it.
You instinctively felt yourself in face of a powerful nature, of a
chosen organization, accustomed only to reckon on oneself, and which no
danger was great enough to astound or even affect.
While continuing to advance toward the bull, he took a side glance at
the two horsemen; then, without paying any further attention to them,
he whistled to his dogs, which at once gave up their pursuit of the
herd, and after drawing a knife from his sheath, he began skinning the
animal lying at his feet.
At this moment the Count came up to his side.
"Eh," he said to him in a sharp voice, "who are you, and what do you
here?"
The buccaneer, for he was one, raised his head, looked sarcastically
at the man who addressed him so peremptorily, and then shrugged his
shoulders with disdain.
"Who I am?" he replied, mockingly; "You see that I am a buccaneer, and
what I am doing. I am flaying a bull I have slain. What next?"
"I want to know by what right you hunt on my land?"
"Ah! This land is yours? I am very glad to hear it. Well, I am hunting
here because I think proper. If that does not suit you, I feel sorry
for it, my pretty gentleman."
"What do you mean?" the Count continued, haughtily; "And how do you
dare to assume such a tone with me?"
"Probably, because it is the one that suits me best," the buccaneer
replied, drawing himself up quickly; "go your road, my fine sir, and
take some good advice; if you do not wish your handsome jerkin to be
filled with broken bones within five minutes, do not trouble yourself
about me more than I do about you, and leave me to attend to my
business."
"I will not allow it," the young man answered, violently; "the land you
are trespassing on so impertinently belongs to my sister, Doña Clara de
Bejar; I will not suffer it to be invaded with impunity by vagabonds
of your description. _¡Viva Dios!_ You will decamp at once, my master,
or, if not--"
"If not?" the buccaneer asked, with eyes flashing fire, while the
Major-domo, foreseeing a catastrophe, prudently glided behind his
master.
As for the latter, he stood cool and impassive before the buccaneer,
resolved to take the offensive vigorously, if he saw him make the
slightest suspicious gesture. But, contrary to all expectation, the
adventurer's menacing look became almost suddenly calm, his features
resumed their usual expression of nonchalance; and it was in an almost
friendly tone, in spite of its roughness, that he said--
"Halloh! What name was that you mentioned, if you please?"
"That of the owner of this savannah."
"I suppose so," the adventurer replied, laughing; "but may I ask you to
repeat the name?"
"That is of no consequence, my master," the young man said
disdainfully, for he fancied that his adversary was backing out of the
quarrel; "the name I uttered is that of Doña Clara de Bejar of Sousa."
"Et cetera," the buccaneer said, with a laugh, "these devils of
gavachos have names for every day in the year. Come, don't be angry,
my young cock," he added, remarking the flush which the expression he
had employed spread over the Count's face; "we are, perhaps, nearer an
understanding than you imagine--what would you gain by a fight with me?
Nothing; and you might, on the contrary, lose a great deal."
"I do not understand your words," the young man answered drily, "but I
hope you are about to explain them."
"It will not take long, as you shall see," the other said tauntingly,
and, turning to the forest, he raised his hands to his mouth in the
shape of a speaking trumpet.
"Eh! L'Olonnais!" he shouted.
"Hola!" a man immediately answered, whom the denseness of the forest in
which he was hidden rendered invisible.
"Come here, my son," the buccaneer continued, "I believe we have found
your little matter."
"Ah, ah!" L'Olonnais, still invisible, replied, "I must have a look at
it."
The young Count did not know what to think of this new incident which
seemed about to change the state of affairs; he feared a coarse jest
on the part of these half-savage men. He hesitated between giving way
to the passion that was boiling within him, or patiently awaiting the
result of the buccaneer's summons; but a secret foreboding urged him to
restrain himself and act prudently with these men, who did not appear
animated by an evil design against him, and whose manners, though quick
and rough, were still friendly.
At this moment L'Olonnais appeared; he wore the same dress as the
buccaneer: he advanced hurriedly toward the latter, and without
troubling himself about the two Spaniards, asked him what he wanted,
while throwing on the ground a wild bull's hide, which he was carrying
on his shoulders.
"Did you not tell me something about a letter which Bowline sent you
this morning by the hands of Omopoua?"
"It is true, Lepoletais. I spoke to you about it," he said, "and it was
settled between us that as you know the country, you were to lead me to
the person to whom I have to deliver this accursed slip of paper."
"Well, then, my son, if you like, your commission is performed,"
Lepoletais continued, as he pointed to Don Sancho, "he is the brother,
or at least calls himself so, of the person in question."
"Stuff," L'Olonnais replied, fixing alight glance on the young man,
"that gay springald?"
"Yes, he says so; for as you know, the Spaniards are such liars, that
it is not possible even to trust to their word."
Don Sancho blushed with indignation.
"Who gave you the right to doubt mine?" he exclaimed.
"Nothing has done so up to the present, hence I am not addressing
myself to you, but speaking generally."
"So," L'Olonnais asked him, "you are the brother of Doña Clara de
Bejar, the mistress of the hatto del Rincón?"
"Once again, yes, I am her brother."
"Good! And how will you prove it to me?"
The young man shrugged his shoulders.
"What do I care whether you believe me or not?" he said.
"That is possible, but it is of great consequence to me to be certain
of the fact; I am entrusted with a letter for that lady, and wish to
perform my commission properly."
"In that case hand me the letter, and I will deliver it myself."
"You found that out all by yourself," the engagé said mockingly, "a
likely notion that I should give you the note on your demand," and he
burst into a hearty laugh, in which Lepoletais joined.
"These Spaniards doubt nothing," the buccaneer said.
"In that case go to the deuce, you and your letter," the young man
exclaimed passionately, "it does not make any difference to me if you
keep it."
"Come, come, don't be savage, hang it all," L'Olonnais continued in a
conciliatory tone; "there is possibly a means of arranging matters to
the general satisfaction; I am not so black as I look, and I have good
intentions, but I do not wish to be duped, that is all."
The young man, in spite of the visible repugnance with which the
adventurers inspired him did not dare to break suddenly with them; the
letter might be very important, and his sister, doubtless would not
pardon him if he acted petulantly in this matter.
"Come," he said, "speak, but make haste; it is late--I am far from the
hatto, where I wish to return before sunset, so as not to alarm my
sister unnecessarily."
"That is the conduct of a good brother," the engagé answered with an
ironical smile; "this is what I propose to you: tell the little lady in
question that Montbart's engagé has orders to deliver a letter to her,
and that if she wishes to have it, she need only come and fetch it."
"What! Fetch it, where?"
"Here; zounds! Lepoletais and I will set up a boucan at this spot; we
will wait for the lady all tomorrow here: it seems to me that what I
propose is simple and easy."
"And do you believe," he answered ironically, "that my sister will
consent to accept such an appointment made by a wretched adventurer?
why, you must be mad!"
"I do not believe anything, I make you a proposal, which you are free
to accept or refuse, that is all: as for the letter, she shall only
have it by coming to fetch it herself."
"Why not accompany me to the hatto, that would be more simple, I fancy?"
"It is possible, and that was my intention at first, but I have changed
my mind; so settle what you will do."
"My sister respects herself too much to take such a step, I am certain
beforehand that she will indignantly refuse."
"Well, you may be mistaken, my friend," the engagé said, with a knowing
smile, "who ever knows what women think!"
"Well, to cut short an interview which has already lasted too long, I
will inform her of what you have said to me; still, I do not conceal
from you that I shall make every effort to prevent her coming."
"You can do as you please, it does not concern me; but be assured that
if it be her wish to come, as I believe, your arguments will be of no
use."
"We shall see."
"Mind not to forget to tell her that the letter is from Montbarts."
During this conversation, which possessed no interest for him,
Lepoletais, with the characteristic coolness and carelessness of
buccaneers, was engaged in cutting down branches, and planting stakes
to make the _ajoupa_ under which they would camp for the night.
"You see," the engagé added, "that my comrade has already set to work;
so good-bye till tomorrow, as I have no time for further talk, I must
help to prepare the boucan."
"Do as you please, but I am persuaded that you are wrong in reckoning
on the success of the commission I have undertaken."
"Well, you will see; at any rate mention it to the Señora. Ah! By the
way, one word more, mind, no treachery."
The young man did not condescend a reply: he shrugged his shoulders
disdainfully, leaped on his horse, and galloped off in the direction of
the hatto, closely followed by the Major-domo.
On getting some distance away, he looked back: the ajoupa was already
finished, and, as L'Olonnais had said, the two buccaneers were busily
engaged in establishing their boucan, without paying any more attention
to the Spaniards, who were doubtless prowling about the neighbourhood,
than if they had been five hundred leagues from any habitation.
Then he continued to advance thoughtfully in the direction of the hatto.
"Well, Excellency," the Major-domo said presently, "you have seen the
ladrones, what do you think of them now?"
"They are rough men," he said, shaking his head sadly, "possessing
brutal and indomitable natures, but relatively frank and honest, at
least from their point of view."
"Yes, yes, you are right, Excellency; and thus they gain more ground
every day, and if they were left alone, I am afraid that the whole
island would soon belong to them."
"Oh, we have not reached that point yet," he said with a smile.
"Pardon me, Excellency, for asking you the question, but do you intend
to inform the Señora of this meeting?"
"I should like not to do so; unfortunately, after what you had told me
of the things that have taken place between my sister and these men,
my silence might have very serious consequences for her. Hence it is
better, I believe, to tell her frankly all about it, and she will be a
better judge than I of the line of conduct she should pursue."
"I believe you are right, Excellency. The Señora has perhaps a great
interest in knowing the contents of that letter."
"Well, let us trust in Heaven!"
It was an hour past nightfall when they reached the hatto.
They noticed with surprise an unusual movement round the house. Several
fires lighted on the plain illumined the darkness. On approaching,
the Count perceived that these fires were lit by soldiers, who had
established their bivouac there.
A confidential servant was watching for the Count's arrival. So soon as
he saw him, he handed him several letters that had arrived for him, and
begged him to go at once to the Señora, who was impatiently expecting
him.
"What is there new here?" he asked.
"Two fifties arrived at sunset, Excellency," the servant answered.
"Ah!" he remarked, with a slight frown. "Very good. Inform my sister
that I shall be with her in an instant."
The domestic bowed and retired. The young gentleman dismounted, and
went to the apartments of Doña Clara, considerably puzzled by the
unforeseen arrival of these troops at a spot which apparently enjoyed
great tranquillity, and where their presence was unnecessary.