Never perhaps did so marked a change occur in the discipline and
carriage of any body of troops, from a cause apparently so slight, as
that which followed the flight of Chinita. Of the visit of the American
nothing was publicly known, but the wildest rumors of her probable
action ran like wildfire through the ranks, the name of Ramirez coupled
with her own being on every tongue. So potent was the fame of the
guerilla chieftain and the fascination of Chinita, that a word from her
at that excited moment would have acted like fire on straw, and set a
blaze to the smouldering insubordination and disappointed energies of
the baffled and impatient recruits, who had entered upon the service
from love of adventure and booty rather than with any fixed convictions
or an intelligent conception of the interests at stake.
Doña Isabel wore before the world the same impassive face as ever, but
at night the demon powers of remorse and intolerable anxiety wrought
cruel havoc with its beauty. It was impossible too for her to conceal
utterly the suspicion and distrust with which Ruiz inspired her; and the
influence which through Chinita mainly he had for a brief period
acquired, both over Doña Isabel and the troops, and which at best had
been looked upon as a privilege he should yield later with his authority
to Gonzales, began to wane rapidly. Dissatisfaction and mutinous
threatenings were manifested on every hand, and the position of Ruiz but
for the presence of Doña Isabel would have been absolutely untenable;
and a crisis was evidently imminent, when the long desired leader
suddenly appeared to relieve the tension of the situation, and to awaken
a frenzy of enthusiasm for the cause, which had been at the point of
abandonment.
It was with intense relief that Ruiz himself greeted the appearance of
Gonzales, unexpected though it was, and incomprehensible the means by
which he had obtained information that had led him so completely to
alter his plans. That the American was concerned in the matter Ruiz did
not doubt, though he could imagine no clew to his motives, the
conviction being still in the mind of the baffled officer of Chinita’s
indifference to Ashley, and of her flight to Ramirez.
It was with amazement and alarm that Gonzales witnessed the ravages of
time and care upon the once beautiful and stately Doña Isabel. The very
excess of joy with which she welcomed him seemed weak and pitiful. He
had been detained long upon the way from El Toro by a series of petty
annoyances, such as the bad state of the roads and a succession of
trifling skirmishes with the enemy, resulting in burdening the march
with the care of the wounded; and thus the loss of Chinita had become to
Doña Isabel by the time of his arrival an assured fact. With tears of
anguish she told him of the ingratitude of the child she loved, though
she carefully concealed the fact that she supposed her to be other than
one of the class of people from whom she had taken her; and with this
explanation only Gonzales could not enter fully into her grief, or
accept the fact that the loss of her _protégée_ was indeed the entire
cause of her anguish. Had she not mourned for years as he had the living
entombment of her daughter Herlinda? Had not the sight of him revived in
her mind the keenness of her woe?
Doña Isabel was ill both in body and in mind; worn out with anxiety and
the fatigues of travel, the reaction occasioned by the appearance of
Gonzales was doubtless too great for her enfeebled powers. To his
extreme embarrassment and anxiety he found himself charged with the
unexpected responsibility of the care of a lady of much social
consequence, and one personally extremely dear to him, who was stricken
with an illness that demanded the most efficient attendance and complete
isolation from disturbing influences. Added to the present necessity of
gaining the confidence of the disorganized troops, and of continuing the
march with the most unrelaxing vigilance, the situation thus became most
onerous to the young commander,—not the less so because of the presence
of a man he had thwarted and displaced, and whom it was necessary to
keep in view and perhaps conciliate.
Upon the next night after the arrival of Gonzales, when Ruiz with
seeming cordiality though with relief and rage contending in his mind
had yielded his command, he strode to the outskirts of the camp, and
smoking or rather forgetting to smoke a cigarette, mentally reviewed
with bitter disappointment the perplexing and conflicting events that
had led to so utter an overthrowal of his carefully concocted schemes.
With the rapidity and excitement of his thoughts, his pace increased as
though he was striving to tread down his mortification while he was
preparing therefor a speedy and certain revenge.
The thought of this was chiefly directed toward Chinita. But for her
flight Ruiz doubted not his position would have been so firmly assured
that he would have been enabled to carry out his schemes. Thus he had
hoped to find himself at the head of a force which in the event of final
victory would have recommended him to the highest honors in the gift of
Juarez, or at any rate assured him against the vengeance of Ramirez. To
treachery time had added actual hatred of the man who had befriended
him, and whose evil deeds, while he professed to abhor them, he would
have rejoiced to have courage and address to imitate, and of whom he
still held a superstitious dread, which had once been absolute awe.
It maddened the recreant follower of Ramirez to think of Chinita in the
power of such a man. That day the last wild escapade of the lawless
adventurer, the torture of Pedro, had in some way reached the ears of
Ruiz and destroyed a lingering hope he had cherished that the girl,
proud and hard though he believed her, had in some impulse of affection
gone to her foster-father,—a thought that he had not even hinted to Doña
Isabel, for with petty spite he refrained from uttering that which he
imagined might give relief to her long agony. He imagined how Chinita,
who doubtless had seen through his double dealing, would make it
contemptible by her scorn, and ridiculous with her irony; and how
Ramirez would, after listening to her account of him rise his sworn
enemy: Ruiz had witnessed such scenes. No; return to Ramirez was
impossible. Besides, that chieftain’s ultimate defeat was certain: the
Liberal cause was strengthening every hour. Ramirez must have lost his
former keenness to follow thus a losing venture. Ruiz began to console
himself by thoughts of how, though only in a subordinate part, he should
assist in the discomfiture of the proud general and that of the girl who
loved him,—for the ignoble youth was incapable of believing hers to be
the love of a mere unreasoning child, though to a purer heart her words
would have a thousand times declared her enthusiasm to be but a
fanatical admiration, untouched by a tinge of passion. The maddening
jealousy that had raged in the heart of Ruiz since he had learned of the
flight of Chinita, and had rendered him incapable of a sustained effort
to renew the ambitious projects so fatally shaken, now flamed up with
cruel intensity; and yet he loved her. At that moment he would have
liked to throttle her, yet would have recalled her to life with words of
passionate love and burning kisses.
As he pondered, he struck his breast with his clinched hand.
“_Caramba!_” he muttered, “is all lost? Is there no way to overset this
miserable favorite of the Señora? Maria Sanctissima! who is that?” His
hand like a flash passed to his pistol.
“Hist!” said a voice. “It is I, Fernando. I have not a moment to spare.
I have tried to gain a way to thee for an hour or more. I know all that
has passed. Fool! thou shouldst have raised the battle-cry for Ramirez
before this Gonzales reached thee; there were men with thee who would
have sustained thee well!”
“Bah! a man has opinions,” answered Ruiz, coolly, recognizing the voice;
“and if Ramirez still chooses to fight for the priests, that is no
argument for my being as mad. I tell you plainly, Father, I am tired of
playing a boy’s part; you will hear of me yet as something more than the
lieutenant of Gonzales.”
“Big words, big words,” laughed Tio Reyes. “Now listen to that which I
have to say to you;” and leaning from his saddle in a few concise words
he delivered the message of Ramirez, adding a few paternal injunctions
as to the conduct Ruiz should in future observe.
“Up to this time nothing is lost,” he continued; “in truth had you acted
in good faith, no course could have been better save this last step,—but
that may easily be recalled. Ramirez will soon be prepared to attack
Gonzales in force; his mind was set on regaining El Toro, but that can
be deferred. ‘When the loaf is cut the crumbs may be soon eaten!’ Be you
prepared to pass over to your rightful commander at the last moment with
all your men. The rest of the troop will follow like sheep. Bah! what is
the name of Gonzales to that of Ramirez! With the forces we could then
combine, what might we not attempt! I promise you in the name of
Ramirez, on his honor as a soldier and his faith as your godfather, a
free pardon for all that has passed. _Caramba_, man! I can’t imagine how
you could have been so mad. I have seen the girl who has bewitched you,
and by my faith I thought her nothing more than any other brown chit,
save that her eyes were darker and bigger than most, and her tongue
sharper than a man cares to find between his wife’s lips! What, you
hesitate? You believe Ramirez at the bottom of a pit, and the pit dry?
Fool! He has treasure you know nothing of; and as for men, did the
mountain villages ever fail him?—and you know how many may be counted on
here. _Caramba_, try them! Tell them he has sacked Tres Hermanos.”
“I know it,” said Ruiz, thoughtfully, “and doubtless the booty was
great!”
Reyes shrugged his shoulders but did not contradict him, reiterating
again and again the assurances of the favor of Ramirez in the event of
Ruiz’s acceptance of his proposals, and on the contrary the chief’s
determination to wreak an awful vengeance upon his god-child should he
prove obdurate and attempt to carry to injurious lengths the treacherous
intrigues which he had designed against his benefactor.
Ruiz vehemently denied his guilt, yet hesitated to make promises which,
whether kept or broken, might make still more dubious his future
position. Reyes read his mind, and at length said coolly,—
“The fact is, you have been bred a servant of Ramirez. When I swore the
service of my life to him, yours went with it. You are the one creature
in the world he has never met with a frown or given a harsh word to; but
do you think he will spare you for that? No; if you should fall into his
hands as a traitor, which sooner or later you would be sure to do, you
would be shot! Yes, like a dog,—” and the speaker spat on the ground to
emphasize his contempt. “But if you are reasonable he will forget all
that has passed,—more than I would do in his place I can tell you; ay,
he will even give you his daughter.”
“His daughter!” echoed Ruiz with a sneer.
“On my soul, you must be hard to please,” cried his father. “For the
girl’s sake I was sorry enough he killed the fool of a gatekeeper five
days ago. For all her proud ways, she loved him like a child,—more than
she will love Ramirez though he is her father, when she hears of this
mad deed.”
Ruiz sprang to his side. “What do you mean?” he cried, seizing his arm.
“Is Chinita the daughter of Ramirez? Is she with him? Is she indeed the
girl who has been promised to me for these years and years? _Por Dios_,
what would I not do for her? What would I not dare? But I do not believe
it. Ramirez knows I love her; this is but a deception. Ah, I know him
too well!”
Reyes laughed. “He told me if you were not satisfied you might go and
see for yourself. Faith, he had no thought you loved her already. I met
him on the road as he came back from leaving her. Does that surprise
you? He is a careful father; she is in the house of the Señora’s
daughter, Doña Carmen.”
Ruiz seemed stunned. Reyes saw that his point was gained, and uttered
but a few words more, which elicited only the response,—“Ramirez’s
daughter? Wonderful, wonderful! And after all, she will be mine.
Heavens! how can I live a day longer without seeing her? Commend me to
the Señor General. You know, my father, my heart is good, though my
brain may have erred! Tell me, has she said but one good word for me?
She—”
“Enough!” cried Reyes, laughing the more. “I have not seen her, I tell
thee; and if thou wouldst know what she thinks, find a pretext and see
her at Doña Carmen’s house. It was a strange freak of the General’s to
take her there, but a happy one. Thou shalt not be molested on the way,
I promise thee. But I have no further time for talking. Adios! thou art
the only man I have ever seen whom love has brought to his right senses.
It will be well if thou art as sane a year after the wedding!”
The two men embraced, in the fashion of the country, and with an ardor
on the part of Ruiz that he seldom affected.
“_Caramba!_ the father is a man of a thousand,” he muttered to himself
as he watched him disappear, guiding his horse so deftly that not a
sound broke the silence of the night. “Virgin of consolation!” he
continued, as he walked slowly back to his quarters. “This is like a
dream. Plague upon it! That is the fault of my father; he is always in
haste. I would have asked him a thousand questions, had he given me but
a quarter of an hour. But it is of Chinita herself I will ask them.
Surely she must have shown some favor toward me, or my godfather would
not recommend me to her with such confidence. _Santo Niño_, show me some
way to make it possible to steal into Guanapila and exchange a word with
her!”
The curiosity of the young man as much as his love prompted the latter
aspiration. His suspicion of the identity of Ramirez with the brother of
Doña Isabel, the Leon Vallé so long supposed dead, returned to him with
force; but he longed to know whether the secret of her birth had been
conveyed to Chinita, and how her flight had been contrived. He pictured
her then like a bird in a cage beating herself against the iron bars of
Doña Carmen’s windows. That was not what she had hoped for when she had
talked to him of Ramirez. If she had tolerated him before, would he not
now be doubly dear, as one who should liberate her from the natural
restraints of a maiden’s life?
Ruiz forgot his fancied wrongs in an intoxication of delight. Constant
pondering upon the question how he should manage to evade the vigilance
and suspicions of Gonzales and effect a visit to Guanapila kept him
preoccupied, yet feverishly alert, until the increased indisposition of
Doña Isabel brought about what appeared to him a special interposition
in his behalf, and in pleading for the aid of “Our Lady of the
Impossible” he promised her in pious gratitude a candle of enormous
proportions.
To reach a point where he might leave his generous but failing friend
had become the most earnest desire of Gonzales. But its fulfilment had
seemed an impossibility, for from the time he assumed command of the
troops almost hourly news had been brought to him of gatherings of bands
of Conservatives, which promised to offer formidable resistance to any
movement he might make; and until Doña Isabel was safety disposed of, he
desired at almost any risk to avoid an open collision.
The march had slowly proceeded, and so constantly had Gonzales been
occupied, and so serious became the condition of Doña Isabel, that there
was but little conversation between them, and somewhat to his impatience
that on her part had been limited to a few brief sentences of warning
against Ruiz and constant inquiries for Chinita, and entreaties that
search should be made for her in every direction.
Gonzales, as far as was possible, had obeyed these inopportune requests;
but the anxiety and grief that prompted them seemed to him strained and
unnatural, though he could not doubt after due inquiry made that the
lost girl was of remarkable beauty and of an original and fascinating
character. Still, his knowledge of the class whence he supposed her
sprung had made quite credible to him the generally accepted theory of
her flight. Yet he started when Doña Isabel had mentioned the American
as her probable companion or instigator, adding in a low voice, “Twice
an American has robbed him.” What did she mean? His cheek flushed as he
remembered that it had been said that for love of the murdered Ashley,
Herlinda had taken the veil. And had Doña Isabel dreamed that he would
find consolation after so many years in this beautiful peasant girl whom
she had raised from the dust? Gonzales silently resented the
insinuation. Yet none the less the suggestion of the complicity of the
American in her disappearance haunted and vexed him. He did not tell
Doña Isabel that to Ward he owed the definite news of the approach of
reinforcements, and that he had virtually left him in charge of El Toro,
and that the commission from Juarez for which the foreigner had applied
had already doubtless reached him. Had he betrayed this young girl,—the
_protégée_ of Doña Isabel,—in spite of his zeal in his service the
American should have much to answer for to him. A few weeks would decide
all. He preferred to wait patiently the development of affairs, and
refrained from perplexing further the mind of Doña Isabel.
Meanwhile the condition of the lady had become rapidly worse. Perhaps
she had brought from Tres Hermanos the germs of the disease that during
these very days was working such terrible havoc there; perhaps the long
days and nights of exertion, anxiety, and grief had produced it,—but
certain it is that as the position of Gonzales became more critical, so
the imminent danger of Doña Isabel increased. A desperate evil commands
a desperate remedy. So it was at length decided that an effort should be
made to convey the lady to the city of Guanapila, to the house of her
daughter Doña Carmen; and Ruiz, in the utter impossibility that Gonzales
found of personally conducting the party, was permitted to execute the
delicate and important trust.
With an apparent readiness of resource and disregard of danger, which
commended him greatly to the perplexed General, Ruiz himself had
proposed the measure.
Taking the precaution to send with him men from Tres Hermanos only, and
such as he knew to be warmly devoted to their mistress, Gonzales acceded
to the plans of the wily young officer, and despatched him upon the
important and seemingly dangerous mission.
After the separation of the detailed party from the main body,
skirmishing parties began upon the latter frequent and harassing
attacks, and the suspicions of Gonzales were again aroused by the
impunity which Ruiz enjoyed, yet alternated with fears for his ultimate
safety. He could scarcely believe that knowing it to be in their power
to secure so rich a prize as Doña Isabel, the hungry forces of the
clergy would suffer her to escape, unless indeed Ruiz was himself as
false as he had once suspected. Again and again he reproached himself
for yielding to the apparent frankness and loyalty of the man he had at
first distrusted, and with an anxiety which grew into actual torture he
awaited the outcome of the action which circumstances against his will
and judgment had forced upon him.
Ruiz, unmolested, made his way as rapidly as the condition of his charge
permitted toward Guanapila. He comprehended well the circumstances which
were distracting the mind of Gonzales. These constant though petty
attacks he knew from information sent by Reyes were destined to weaken
the prestige of Gonzales by a series of petty misadventures, after which
his destruction by the desertion of Ruiz, followed by the mass of the
disaffected, might, it was conjectured, be readily accomplished. It
seemed the simplest matter in the world to effect, and had been
instantly agreed to by Ruiz in the hasty conference with his father. Yet
further reflection gave him an unaccountable antipathy to the course he
was to pursue. It cannot be said that a lingering trace of honor
influenced him, or any genuine disapproval of the character or
convictions of Ramirez, for Ruiz was in the widest sense a man to be
bought and sold, a creature influenced by every turn of advantage; but
in spite of all that had passed between him and Reyes, he doubted the
good faith of Ramirez. The good fortune that was to give him Chinita at
so slight a cost seemed to him incredible. Did the girl love him, and
had she owned as much? Or was she to be fooled into acquiescence in the
plans of Ramirez by the chimera of his parental power? No; he knew
Chinita too well to believe she would marry against her own desire, even
to gratify a parent who exerted over her the extraordinary ascendency
that she had instinctively acknowledged in Ramirez. Ruiz was, moreover,
impressed with a belief in the ultimate disaster of the Conservative
cause. For Chinita’s sake he would risk involvement in the ruin he
foresaw, hoping that by some spar he himself might float; but unless
assured of her good-will,—the thoughts of the young conspirator carried
him no further, unless vaguely to conjecture the extent of power which
he might thereafter exert over the fortunes of Doña Isabel, through his
connection with her mysterious _protégée_.
With ill-concealed impatience, and hopes and emotions which every hour
grew more dazzling and overpowering, Ruiz at length found himself in the
house of Doña Carmen, and in her presence and that of her young
companion. With inexpressible amazement, instead of her he sought he
found himself face to face with Chata, the supposed daughter of Don
Rafael.
The confusion and excitement of the arrival gave almost instantly an
opportunity for him to pour into the ear of the young girl the burning
questions which rushed to his lips. In the necessity in which she found
herself to attend instantly the wants of her mother, Doña Carmen left
the young soldier and her charge alone together. Breathlessly demanding
of Chata news of Chinita, Ruiz revealed to the astounded girl the
separation of her playmate from Doña Isabel, the mystery of her flight,
and the extraordinary purposes which the young girl had cherished in
relation to Ramirez. In every word too he betrayed his own love for her
he denounced, and the raging jealousy which possessed him.
Chata in her extreme agitation, forgetting the promises she had made,
revealed her own connection with Ramirez, in describing in a few brief
sentences the scenes which had taken place at Tres Hermanos, and
especially the means by which she had saved Don Rafael. She could not
comprehend the rage and disgust with which Ruiz flung himself from her
when she announced herself to be the daughter of Ramirez, but a moment
later it flashed upon her that she had heard herself named as the
destined bride of this man who so openly despised her. Had he too known
of the destiny awarded him? She turned from him with a burning blush,
and without a word they parted. She remembered afterward that she might
perhaps have sent news to the hacienda,—to her foster-father Don Rafael,
to Doña Feliz did she still live; but her one chance had gone, and her
semi-imprisonment began anew. Doña Carmen was not again betrayed into a
momentary forgetfulness of her charge.
Ruiz turned from the house with a thousand conflicting emotions. The
encounter with Chata had produced in his mind an absolute fury of
resentment, as he reflected that this was the girl whom Ramirez had
promised him as his wife,—in his boyhood jestingly; in his manhood as a
reward, an incentive. Heavens! what was this puny creature in comparison
with Chinita? And Chinita was perhaps at that very moment with
Ramirez,—perhaps even laughing with him over the weakness and
discomfiture of the youth they had combined to deceive! With blind and
insensate rage, Ruiz believed himself the victim of a conspiracy between
Ramirez and his own father to substitute this girl for the peerless
creature that he loved, and who doubtless was at that moment in the camp
of her triumphant lover. They had thought to entrap him into furthering
their designs, deeming it impossible that he should enter Guanapila and
discover the trick that was to be played upon him.
Ruiz did not for a moment conceive it possible that Ramirez had known
nothing of his love for Chinita, or that his father had himself been
ignorant of the identity of the girl whom Ramirez had claimed as his
daughter, or that Reyes had drawn a false conclusion from his own hasty
questions.
In this mood Ruiz was presently met by old acquaintances, before whom he
was forced to mask his excitement; and moreover they were in festive
humor, which prevented them from being observant or critical. The town,
but imperfectly garrisoned, had for some time held an anxious and
harassed populace, prognosticating nothing but invasion and the levy of
forced loans; but it chanced that on that day a guest had arrived, who
by the mere magic of his presence, unattractive and unimpressive as was
his bearing, inspired confidence and hope. Benito Juarez himself had
made one of those secret incursions for which he was famed, and had
reached Guanapila with the purpose of conferring with such officers of
his party as had ventured to meet him. There were but few, and Ruiz was
honored by an invitation to represent Gonzales. The deference paid him
as a delegate from so important a leader, in command of so considerable
a force, raised to its highest pitch the absolute fury of resentment
that convulsed the desperate lover; and at the banquet that followed the
conference, the wine and flattering notice of the Liberal President
completed the overthrow of the little caution that he had hitherto
maintained in his speech and demeanor.
The toasts drunk were loud and frequent, and the name of Ramirez was the
most deeply execrated. Many of the young men indulged in extravagant
boasts and declarations as to the deeds they would accomplish in the
near future, scorning the prowess of the man at whose very name they
were accustomed to tremble. Some one spoke with a laugh of a beautiful
girl who had been seen in his company but a few days before. It was not
until afterward that Ruiz reflected that the spy had probably caught a
glimpse of Chata on her way from Tres Hermanos. At the moment his mind
was full of Chinita, and rising impetuously, in a torrent of fiery words
he broke into denunciation and invective, telling the tale of Pedro’s
martyrdom as he had heard it, and vowing that as Ramirez had slain the
poor peasant, so he himself would accomplish the defeat and death of the
“mountain wolf.” “I promise you, Señores,” he concluded, “that when you
next hear of Fernando Ruiz you shall have cause to remember the vow I
have here made. Ramirez is doomed!”
The stoical man at the head of the table smiled faintly at the storm of
applause that followed this speech, and as Ruiz a few minutes later took
his departure Juarez muttered to his neighbor, “That young fellow will
bear watching. He has either a tremendous personal wrong to avenge, or
he is striving to mislead us. I know him to be the godson of this very
Ramirez, whom he thunders against. A Mexican may turn against, may even
murder, his own father; but his godfather,—he must be a renegade indeed
to attempt his destruction!” His neighbor assented.
When the words of Ruiz were reported to Ramirez,—as reported they were a
few days later,—he smiled as grimly as Benito Juarez himself had done.
“The cockerel crows loud,” he said. “He was always a blusterer. Well, we
shall see; a week at latest will decide all that. Bah! if the fellow but
had in him the blood of his father!—but with the name of his mother he
must have taken a braggart’s tongue. It will be well for him if he does
not weary my patience in the end. But for my promise to Reyes—”
He frowned darkly. Had Ruiz seen the face of his godfather then he might
have repented his boast. As it was, his own mad words served as a spur
urging him to the inevitable future. He returned to the camp of Gonzales
unmolested, and was received with intense relief, with thanks and
praises, yet wore thereafter a dark and vengeful face.