COMPLICATIONS.
We must now return to one of our characters, who up to the present has
played but a secondary part in this story; but, as frequently happens,
is now called on by the exigencies of our narrative to take his place
in the foreground.
We refer to Count Don Stenio de Bejar y Sousa, grandee of Spain of the
first class, _caballero cubierto_, governor for His Majesty Philip II.
of Spain and the Indies, of the island of Hispaniola, and husband of
Doña Clara de Peñaflor.
Count Don Stenio de Bejar was a true Spaniard of the age of Charles V.,
dry, stiff, full of pride and self-sufficiency, always with his hand
on his hip, and his head thrown back when he deigned to speak, which,
happened to him as rarely as possible, not through any want of sense,
as he was far from being a fool; but through indolence and contempt of
other men, whom he never looked at without half closing his eyes, and
raising the corners of his lips disdainfully.
Tall, well built, possessed of noble manners, and a very handsome face,
the Count, apart from his determined silence, was one of the most
accomplished cavaliers of the Spanish court, which, however, at that
period, possessed a great number of them.
His marriage with Doña Clara had been at the outset an affair of
convenience and ambition, but gradually, through admiring the charming
face of the woman he had married, seeing her gentle eyes fixed on
him, and hearing her melodious voice resound in his ear, he had grown
to love her--love her madly. Like all men accustomed to shut up and
concentrate in their hearts the feelings that possessed them, the
passion he experienced for Doña Clara had acquired proportions the more
formidable, because the unhappy man had the desperate conviction that
it would never be shared by the woman who was the object of it. All Don
Stenio's advances had been so peremptorily rejected by his wife, that
he at last made up his mind to abstain from them.
But, like all disappointed lovers, this gentleman, who was at the same
time the husband--a very aggravating fact in the species, was naturally
too infatuated with his own merit, to attribute his defeat to himself,
and hence had looked around to discover the fortunate rival who had
robbed him of his wife's heart.
Naturally the Count had not succeeded in finding this fancied rival,
who only existed in his own imagination, and this had grown into a
jealousy, the more ferocious because, as it did not know whom to settle
on, it attacked everybody.
The Count was jealous, then, not like a Spaniard, for the Spaniards
generally, whatever may be said to the contrary, are not affected by
that stupid malady, but like an Italian; and this jealousy made him
suffer the more, because, like his love, he was unable to show it;
through fear of ridicule, he was compelled to lock it up carefully in
his heart.
When, owing to his protection--as had been arranged on his marriage
with Doña Clara, of whose previous union with the Count de Barmont
he was ignorant--his father-in-law, the Duc de Peñaflor, was
appointed viceroy of New Spain, and himself obtained the government
of Hispaniola, the Count experienced a feeling of indescribable joy,
and an immense comfort inundated his mind. He was persuaded that in
America, his wife, separated from her friends and relatives, forced,
to live alone, and consequently to undergo his influence, would be
driven through weariness and want of something better to do, to share
his love, or at least accept it: and then again, on the islands there
was no rivalry to fear among a half savage population entirely absorbed
by a passion far more powerful than love--a passion for money.
Alas! This time too, he was deceived. Doña Clara, it is true, gave him
no more pretext for jealousy than she had done in Spain, but he did not
any the more succeed in winning her affections. From the first day of
her arrival at Saint Domingo, she manifested the desire to live alone
and in retirement, engaged in religious practices; and the Count was
constrained, in spite of his fury, to bow before a resolution which he
recognised as irrevocable.
He resigned himself; his jealousy however was not extinct, it was
smouldering beneath the ashes, and a spark would suffice to make it
burst into a more terrible flame than before.
Still, in spite of this slight annoyance, the life the Count led at
Saint Domingo was most agreeable; in the first place he ruled there in
his quality of governor, saw everybody bend beneath his will, always
excepting his wife, the only one perhaps he would have cared to reduce.
He had his flatterers, and played the master and suzerain over all
who surrounded him; moreover, a thing not to be at all despised, his
position as governor secured certain imposts that rapidly augmented his
fortune, which various youthful follies had considerably reduced, and
he now worked hard, not only to repair the breaches, but to render them
as if they had never been.
By degrees, however, the Count succeeded in lulling, if not subduing,
his love; he employed one passion to uproot the other; the care
of augmenting his fortune made him endure patiently the calculated
indifference of the Countess. He had almost come himself to believe
that he only felt for her a frank and sincere friendship; the more
so because Doña Clara for her part, was charming in everything that
did not touch on her husband's passion for her; she took an interest,
or at least pretended to do so, in the commercial speculations which
the Count did not hesitate to engage in under suppositious names, and
at times she would give him, with that clear judgment so eminently
possessed by women whose heart is free, excellent advice on very
difficult points, by which the Count profited, and naturally took all
the glory.
Things were in this state when the episode with the filibusters
occurred, which the Major-domo described to Don Sancho de Peñaflor.
This mad struggle of five men against an entire town, a struggle from
which they emerged victorious, had caused the Count a rage all the
greater, because the filibusters, on leaving the town, had taken the
Countess off with them as a hostage. He had then understood how greatly
he erred, in supposing that his love and jealousy were extinguished.
During the two hours that the Countess remained absent, the Count
suffered a horrible torture, the more horrible because the rage he felt
was impotent, and vengeance impossible, at least for the present.
Hence, from this moment, the Count vowed an implacable hatred against
the adventurers, and swore to carry on a merciless war against them.
The return of the Countess safe and sound, and treated with the
greatest respect by the adventurers, during the time she remained in
their power, calmed the Count's wrath from a marital point of view,
but the insult he had received in his quality as governor, was too
grave for him to renounce his vengeance.
From this moment the most formal orders were sent to the leaders of
corps to redouble their surveillance, and chase the adventurers,
wherever they met them; fresh Fifties, formed of resolute men, were
organized, and the few adventurers they contrived to catch, were
mercilessly hung. Tranquillity was re-established in the colonies, the
confidence of the colonists, momentarily disturbed, reappeared, and
everything apparently returned to its accustomed state.
The Countess had expressed a desire to restore her health by a stay
of several weeks at the hatto del Rincón, and the Count, to whom her
physician had expressed this wish, found it only very natural; he had
seen his wife go away with an easy mind, for he was convinced that at
the spot whither she was going, she would have no danger to fear, and
felt persuaded in his heart that this condescension on his part, would
be appreciated by the Countess, and that she would feel thankful to him
for it.
She had left therefore, only accompanied by a few servants and
confidential slaves, delighted to escape for some time from the
restraint she was obliged to impose on herself at Saint Domingo,
and fostering the bold scheme which we have seen her carry out so
successfully.
It was about an hour after the departure of Don Sancho de Peñaflor,
to go and join his sister at the hatto; the Count was finishing his
breakfast, and preparing to retire to the inner boudoir to enjoy his
siesta, when an usher came into the dining room, and after apologizing
for disturbing His Excellency at this moment, informed him that a man
who refused to give his name, but declared that he was well known to
the governor, insisted on being introduced into his presence, as he had
most important communications to make to him.
The moment was badly chosen to ask for an audience, as the Count felt
inclined to sleep; he answered the usher that, however important the
stranger's communications might be, he did not believe them of such
importance that he should sacrifice his siesta for them; he therefore
Sent a message to the effect that the governor would not be at liberty
till four in the afternoon, and if the stranger liked to return then he
would be received.
The Count dismissed the usher, and rose, muttering to himself as he
walked towards the boudoir,--
"_Dios me salve_, if I were to believe all these scamps, I should not
have a moment's rest."
Whereupon he stretched himself in a large hammock, hung right across
the room, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The Count's siesta lasted three hours, and this delay was the cause of
serious complications.
On waking, Don Stenio quite forgot all about the stranger; it so often
happened that he was disturbed for nothing by people who declared they
had urgent matters to discuss with him, that he did not attach the
slightest importance to their requests for an audience, and the usher's
words had completely slipped his memory.
At the time when he entered the room where he usually granted his
audiences, and which at this moment was quite empty, the usher
presented himself again.
"What do you want?" he asked him.
"Excellency," the usher replied with a respectful bow, "the man has
returned."
"What man?"
"The man who came this morning."
"Oh yes, well, what does he want?" the Count continued, who did not
know what all this was about.
"He desires, my lord, that you will do him the honour of receiving him,
as he states that he has matters of the utmost gravity to tell you."
"Ah, very good, I remember now; it is the same man you announced this
morning."
"Yes, Excellency, the same."
"And what is his name?"
"He will only tell it to your Excellency."
"Hum! I do not like such precautions, for they never forbode anything
good; listen, José! When he arrives, tell him I never receive people
who insist on keeping their incognito."
"But he is here, my lord."
"Ah! well then, it will be all the more easy, tell him so at once."
And he turned his back. The usher bowed and left the room, but returned
almost immediately.
"Well! Have you sent him away?" the Count asked.
"No, my lord, he gave me this card requesting me to hand it your
Excellency. He declares that, in default of his name, it will be
sufficient to secure his admission to your presence."
"Oh! Oh!" said the Count, "That is curious, let me see this famous
talisman."
He took the card from the usher's hand and looked at it absently; but
all at once he started, frowned and said to the usher,
"Show the man into the yellow room, let him wait for me there, I will
be with him in a moment. The deuce," he muttered to himself when he was
alone, "it is a long time since this scoundrel let me hear anything of
him, I fancied him hung or drowned; he is a clever scamp, can he really
have any important information to give me? We shall see."
Then, leaving the room in which he was, he hastened to the yellow
saloon where the man with the card already was.
On seeing the governor, the latter hastily rose, and made him a
respectful bow.
The Count turned to the valet who had followed him to open the doors.
"I am not at home to anybody," he said; "you can go."
The valet left the room, and shut the door after him.
"Now for us two," the Count said, as he sank into his chair, and
pointed to another.
"I am awaiting your lordship's orders," the stranger said respectfully.
Don Stenio remained for a moment silent, and scratching his forehead.
"You have been away for a very long time," he said at last, "well, what
has become of you during the last two months?"
"I have been executing your Excellency's orders," the man answered.
"My orders? I do not remember having given you any."
"Pardon me, my lord, if I venture to remind you of certain facts, which
appear to have escaped your memory."
"Do so, my good fellow, I shall be delighted at it; still, I would
remark that my time is valuable, and that others besides yourself are
awaiting an audience."
"I will be brief, Excellency."
"That is what I wish. Go on,"
"A few days after the affair of the ladrones, does not your Excellency
remember saying to me in a moment of anger or impatience, that you
would give ten thousand piastres to obtain positive information about
the adventurers, their strength, plans, &c.?"
"Yes, I remember saying that; what then?"
"Well, Excellency, I was present when you made that promise. Your
Excellency had deigned to employ me several times before; as you looked
at me while speaking, I supposed that you were addressing me, and I
have acted accordingly."
"That is to say?"
"In my devotion to your Excellency, in spite of the numberless dangers
I should have to incur, I resolved to go and seek the information you
appeared to desire so ardently, and--"
"And you went to seek it," the Count exclaimed with an eager start,
though hitherto he had paid but very slight attention to the stranger's
remarks.
"Well, yes, Excellency."
"Ah, ah," he said, stroking his chin; "and have you learnt anything?"
"An infinity of things, my lord."
"Well, let me hear some of them. But mind," he added, checking himself,
"no hearsays or suppositions, for I have my ears stuffed with them."
"The information I shall have the honour of giving your Excellency, is
derived from a good source, since I went to seek it in the very den of
the ladrones."
The Count gazed with admiration at this man who had not feared to
expose himself to so great a danger.
"If such is the case, pray continue, señor."
"My lord," the spy resumed, for we may henceforth give him that name;
"I come from St. Christopher."
"Ah! Is not that the Island where the bandits take shelter?"
"Yes, my lord, and more than that, I returned in one of their vessels."
"Oh, oh," said the governor, "pray tell me all about it, my dear Don
Antonio: that is your name, I believe?"
"Yes, my lord; Don Antonio de la Ronda."
"You see," the Count added with a smile; "that I have a good memory
sometimes," and he laid a stress on these words, which made the spy's
heart bound with joy.
The latter told him in what way he had entered the island, how he had
been discovered and made prisoner by Montbarts, who put him on board
one of his vessels; how a great expedition had been decided on by the
adventurers against the island of Saint Domingo, in the first place,
and then against Tortuga, which the ladrones had a plan for surprising,
and on which they intend to establish themselves; and in what way, on
reaching Port Margot, he had succeeded in escaping, and had hastened to
bear the news to his Excellency the governor.
The Count listened with the most serious attention to Don Antonio's
narrative, and in proportion as it progressed, the governor's brow
became more anxious; in fact, the spy had not deceived him. The news
was of the utmost gravity.
"Hum!" he answered; "And is it long since the ladrones arrived at Port
Margot?"
"Eight days, Excellency."
"_¡Sangre de Cristo!_ so long as that, and I had not been informed of
it?"
"In spite of the utmost diligence, as I was constrained to take the
greatest precaution lest I should fall again into the hands of the
ladrones, who doubtless started in pursuit of me. I only arrived this
morning, and came straight to the palace."
The Count bit his lips, several hours had been lost through his fault;
still he did not notice the indirect reproach addressed to him by the
spy, for he comprehended all its justice.
"You have fairly earned the ten thousand piastres promised, Don
Antonio," he said.
The spy gave a start of pleasure.
"Ah, that is not all," he answered, with a meaning smile.
"What else is there?" the Count remarked; "I believed that you had
nothing further to tell me."
"That depends, Excellency. I have made my official report to the
Governor-General of Hispaniola, it is true--a very detailed report
indeed--in which I have forgotten nothing that might help him to defend
the island entrusted to his care."
"Well?"
"Well, my lord, I have now to give the Count de Bejar, of course, if he
desire it, certain information which I believe will interest him."
The Count fixed on the man an investigating glance, as if he wished to
read his very soul.
"The Count de Bejar?" he said with studied coldness; "What can you have
to say that interests him privately, as a simple gentleman? I have not,
as far as I am aware, anything to settle with the ladrones."
"Perhaps so, my lord; however, I will only speak, if your Excellency
orders me, and before doing so, will beg you to forgive anything that
may seem offensive to your honour in what I may say to you."
The Count turned pale and frowned portentously.
"Take care," he said to him in a threatening voice, "take care lest
you go beyond your object, and in trying to prove too much, fall into
the contrary excess. The honour of my name is not to be played with,
and I will never allow the slightest stain to be imprinted on it."
"I have not the slightest intention to insult your Excellency; my zeal
on your behalf has alone urged me to speak as I have done."
"Very good--I am willing to believe it; still, as the honour of my name
regards myself alone, I do not allow any person the right to assail it,
not even in a good intention."
"I ask your Excellency's pardon, but I have doubtless explained myself
badly. What I have to tell you relates to a plot, formed, doubtless,
without her knowledge, against the Countess."
"A plot formed against the Countess!" Don Stenio exclaimed, violently;
"What do you mean, señor? Explain at once--I insist on it."
"My lord, since it is your wish, I will speak. Is not her ladyship, the
Countess, at this moment in the vicinity of the small town of San Juan?"
"She is; but how do you know it, since, as you told me you have only
been back to Saint Domingo for a few hours?"
"I presumed so, because on board the vessel in which I returned to
Hispaniola, I heard something about an interview which the chief of
the adventurers was to have in a few days in the neighbourhood of the
Artibonite."
"Oh!" the Count exclaimed; "You lie, scoundrel!"
"For what object, my lord?" the spy answered, coolly.
"How do I know? through hatred, envy, perhaps."
"I," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Nonsense, my lord. Men
like me--spies, if things must be called by their proper name--are only
led away by one passion--that of money."
"But what you tell me is impossible," the Count observed, with
agitation.
"What prevents you from assuring yourself that I speak the truth, my
lord?"
"I will do so, _¡Viva Dios!_" he exclaimed, stamping his foot furiously.
Then he walked up to the spy, who was standing calm and motionless in
the centre of the room, and fixed on him a glance full of rage, but
impossible to describe.
"Listen, villain!" he said in a hollow voice, half choked with passion;
"If you have lied, you shall die!"
"Agreed, my lord," the spy replied, coldly; "but if I have spoken the
truth?"
"If you have spoken the truth," he exclaimed, but suddenly broke off,
"but no, it is impossible, I repeat!" and seeing a fugitive smile
playing round the lips of his companion, he added, "well, be it so; if
you have spoken the truth, you shall fix your own reward, and whatever
it may be, on my word as a gentleman, you shall have it."
"Thanks, my lord," he replied, with a bow; "I hold you to your word."
The Count walked several times up and down the saloon, suffering from
intense agitation, appearing to have completely forgotten the presence
of the spy, muttering unconnected words, breaking out into passionate
gestures, and in all probability revolving in his head sinister
projects of vengeance. At length he stopped and addressed the spy again.
"Withdraw," he said to him, "but do not leave the palace; or, stay,
wait a moment."
Seizing a bell on the table, he rang it violently.
A valet appeared.
"A corporal and four men," he said.
The spy shrugged his shoulders.
"Why all these precautions, my lord?" he asked; "is it not contrary to
my interest to go away?"
The Count examined him for a moment attentively, and then made the
valet a sign to withdraw.
"Very good," he then said, "I trust to you, Don Antonio de la Ronda.
Await my orders, I shall soon have need of you."
"I shall not go away far, my lord."
And after bowing respectfully, he took his leave, and withdrew.
The Count, when left alone, gave way for some minutes to all the
violence of a rage so long restrained, but he gradually regained his
coolness and the power of reflection.
"Oh! I will avenge myself!" he exclaimed.
Then he gave, with feverish activity, the necessary orders that
numerous bodies of troops should be sent off to different points, so as
to completely invest the hatto del Rincón, to which spot two Fifties
were sent, commanded by experienced and resolute officers.
These measures taken, the Count, wrapped in a large cloak, mounted his
horse an hour after sunset, and followed by Don Antonio de la Ronda,
who had not the slightest desire to leave him, and a few confidential
officers, he left his palace incognito, rode through the town
unrecognized, and reached the open country.
"Now, caballeros," he said in a hollow voice, "gallop your hardest,
and do not be afraid of foundering your horses. Relays are prepared at
regular distances along the road."
He dug his spurs into the flanks of his horse, which snorted with pain,
and the party set out with the headlong speed of a whirlwind.
"Ah, Santiago! Santiago;" the Count exclaimed at times while urging on
his steed, whose efforts were superhuman, "shall I arrive in time?"