A DARK HISIORY CONTINUED.
"Ancient Mexico was traversed by canals, like Venice, or, to speak more
correctly, like Dutch towns, for generally in all the streets there
was a path between the canal and the houses. At the present day, when
all the streets are paved, and the canals have disappeared save in one
quarter of the city, it is difficult to understand how Cervantes, in
one of his novels, could compare Venice with Mexico; but if the canals
are no longer visible, they still exist underground; and in certain low
quarters, where they have been converted into drains, they manifest
their presence by the foetid odours which they exhale, or by the heaps
of filth and stagnant water."
"The sergeant, after so skilfully settling accounts with the hapless
evangelista, crossed the Plaza, and entered the Calle de la Monterilla."
"He walked for a long time along the streets with the same quiet step
he had adopted on leaving the evangelista's stall. At length, after
about twenty minutes' walk through deserted streets and gloomy lanes,
whose miserable appearance became with every step more menacing, he
stopped before a house of more than suspicious aspect, above the door
of which a flaring candle burned behind _un retablo de las animas
veneritas;_ the windows of the house were lit up, and on the azotea the
watchdogs were mournfully baying the moon. The sergeant tapped twice
on the door of this sinister abode with his vine stick."
"It was a long time ere he was answered. The shouts and singing
suddenly ceased in the inside: at length the soldier heard a heavy step
approaching; the door was partly opened--for everywhere in Mexico an
iron chain is put up at night--and a drunken voice said harshly,--"
"'_¿Quién es?_ (Who's there?)'"
"'Gente de paz,' the sergeant answered."
"'Hum! it is very late to run about the _tuna_ and enter the vilaio,'
the other remarked, apparently reflecting."
"'I do not wish to enter.'"
"'Then what the deuce do you want?'"
"'_Pan y sal por los Caballeros errantes,'_[1] the sergeant answered,
in a tone of authority, and placing himself so that the moonbeams
should fall on his face."
"The man fell back, uttering an exclamation of surprise."
"'_¡Valga me Dios!_ señor Don Torribio!' he exclaimed, with an accent
of profound respect; 'who could have recognized your Excellency under
that wretched dress? Come in! come in! they are waiting impatiently for
you.'"
"And the man, who had become as obsequious as he had been insolent a
few moments previously, hastened to undo the chain, and threw the door
wide open."
"'It is unnecessary, Pepito,' the soldier continued, 'I repeat to you
that I shall not come in. How many are there?'"
"'Twenty, Excellency.'"
"'Armed?'"
"'Completely.'"
"'Let them come down directly. I will wait for them here. Go, my son,
time presses.'"
"'And you? Excellency,'"
"'You will bring me a hat, an esclavina, my sword and pistols. Come,
make haste!'"
"Pepito did not let the order be repeated. Leaving the door open, he
ran off. A few minutes after, some twenty bandits, armed to the teeth,
rushed into the street, jostling one another. On coming up to the
soldier, they saluted respectfully, and, at a sign from him, remained
motionless and silent."
"Pepito had brought the articles demanded by the man whom the
evangelista called Don Annibal, himself Don Torribio, and who,
probably, had several other names, although we will keep temporarily to
the latter."
"'Are the horses ready?' Don Torribio asked, as he concealed his
uniform under the esclavina, and placed in his girdle a long rapier and
a pair of double-barrelled pistols."
"'Yes, Excellency,' Pepito answered, hat in hand."
"'Good, my son. You will bring them to the spot I told you; but as it
is forbidden to go about the streets on horseback by night, you will
pay attention to the celadores and serenos.'"
"All the bandits burst into a laugh at this singular recommendation."
"'There,' Don Torribio continued, as he put on a broad brimmed hat,
which Pepito had brought him with the other things, 'that is all right;
we can now start. Listen to me attentively, Caballeros!'"
"The leperos and other scoundrels who composed the audience, flattered
by being treated as caballeros, drew nearer to Don Torribio, in order
to hear his instructions. The latter continued,--"
"'Twenty men, marching, in a troop, through the streets of the city
would, doubtless, arouse the susceptibility and suspicions of the
police agents; we must employ the greatest prudence, and, above all,
the utmost secrecy in order to succeed in the expedition for which I
have collected you. You will, therefore, separate, and go one by one
under the walls of the convent of the Bernardines; on arriving there,
you will conceal yourselves as well as you can, and not stir without my
orders. Above all, no disputes, no quarrelling. You have understood me
clearly?'"
"'Yes, Excellency,' the bandits answered, unanimously."
"'Very good. Be off, then, for you must reach the convent in a quarter
of an hour.'"
"The bandits dispersed in every direction with the rapidity of a flock
of buzzards. Two minutes later they had disappeared round the corners
of the nearest streets. Pepito alone remained."
"'And I?' he respectfully asked Don Torribio. 'Do you not wish,
Excellency, for me to accompany you? I should be very bored if I
remained here alone.'"
"'I should be glad enough to take you with me; but who would get the
horses ready if you went with me?'"
"'That is true. I did not think of it.'"
"'But do not be alarmed, Muchacho, if I succeed as I hope, you shall
soon come with me.'"
"Pepito, completely reassured by this promise, bowed respectfully to
the mysterious man, who seemed to be his chief, and re-entered his
house, carefully closing the door after him."
"Don Torribio, when left alone, remained for several seconds plunged
in deep thought. At length he raised his head, drew his hat over his
eyes, carefully wrapped himself in his esclavina, and walked off
hurriedly, muttering, 'Shall I succeed?'"
"A question which no one, not even himself, could have answered."
"The convent of the Bernardines stands in one of the handsomest
quarters of Mexico, not far from the Paseo de Bernardo, the fashionable
promenade. It is a vast edifice, built entirely of hewn stone, which
dates from the rebuilding of the city after the conquest, and was
founded by Fernando Cortez himself. Its general appearance is imposing
and majestic, like all Spanish convents; it is almost a small city
within a large one, for it contains all that can be agreeable and
useful for life--a church, a hospital, a laundry, a large kitchen
garden, and a well-laid out flower garden, which offers pleasant shade,
reserved for the exercise of the nuns. There are wide cloisters,
decorated with grand pictures by good masters, representing scenes in
the life of the Virgin, and of St. Bernard, to whom the convent is
dedicated; these cloisters, bordered by circular galleries, out of
which the cells of the nuns open, enclose sandy courts, adorned with
pieces of water, in which fountains refresh the air at the burning
midday hour. The cells are charming retreats, in which nothing that can
promote comfort is wanting: a bed; two butacas covered with prepared
Cordovan leather, a _prie Dieu_, a small toilet table, in the drawer
of which you are sure to find a looking-glass, and several holy
pictures, occupy the principal space. In a corner of the room may be
seen, between a guitar and a scourge, a statue of the Virgin, of wood
or alabaster, wearing a coronal of white roses, before which a lamp
is continually burning. Such is the furniture which, with but few
exceptions, you are certain to find in the nuns' cells."
"The convent of the Bernardines contained, at the period when our story
is laid, one hundred and fifty nuns, and about sixty novices. In this
country of toleration, it is rare to see nuns cloistered. The sisters
can go into town, pay and receive visits; the regulations are extremely
mild, and, with the exception of the offices, at which they are bound
to be present with great punctuality, the nuns, when they have entered
their cells, are almost at liberty to do as they please, nobody taking
the trouble, or seeming to do so, of watching them."
"We have described the convent cells, which are all alike; but that of
the Mother Superior merits a particular description. Nothing could be
more luxurious, more religious, and yet more worldly, than its general
appearance. It was an immense square room, with large Gothic windows,
with small panes set in lead, upon which sacred subjects were painted
with admirable finish and admirable touch. The walls were covered
with long, stamped, and gilded hangings of Cordovan leather, while
valuable pictures, representing the principal events in the life of
the patron saint of the convent, were arranged with that symmetry and
taste only to be met with in people belonging to the Church. Between
the pictures hung a magnificent Virgin, by Raphael, before which was
an altar. A silver lamp, full of perfumed oil, hung from the ceiling,
and burnt night and day before the altar, which thick damask curtains
hid, when thought proper. The furniture consisted of a large Chinese
screen, concealing the couch of the abbess,--a simple frame of carved
oak, surrounded by white gauze mosquito curtains. A square table, also
of oak, on which were a few books and a desk, occupied the centre of
the room; in a corner a vast library, containing books on religious
subjects, and displaying the rich bindings of rare and precious works
through the glass doors, a few butacas and chairs, with twisted feet,
were arranged against the wall. Lastly, a silver brazier, filled with
olive kernels, stood opposite a superb coffer, the chasing of which was
a masterpiece of the Renaissance."
"During the day, the light, filtered through the coloured glass, spread
but a gentle and mystic radiance around, which caused the visitor to
experience a feeling of respect and devotion, by giving this vast
apartment a stern and almost mournful aspect."
"At the moment when we introduce the reader into this cell, that is
to say, a few moments prior to the scene we have just described, the
abbess was seated in a large straight-backed easy chair, which was
surmounted by an abbatical crown, while the cushion of gilt leather was
adorned with a double fringe of silk and gold."
"The abbess was a little, plump woman, of about sixty years of age,
whose features would have appeared unmeaning, had it not been for the
bright and piercing glance that shot, like a jet of lava, from her grey
eyes, when a violent emotion agitated her. She held in her hand an open
book, and seemed plunged in profound meditation."
"The door of the cell opened gently, and a girl, dressed in the
novice's robe, advanced timidly, scarce grazing the floor with her
light and hesitating foot. She stopped in front of the easy chair, and
waited silently till the abbess raised her eyes to her."
"'Ah! it is you, my child,' the Mother Superior at length said,
noticing the novice's presence; 'come hither.'"
"The latter advanced a few paces nearer."
"'Why did you go out this morning without asking my permission?'"
"On hearing these words, which the maiden, however, must have expected,
she turned pale, and stammered a few unintelligible words."
"The abbess continued, in a stern voice:--"
"'Take care, Niña! although you are still a novice, and will not take
the veil for several months, like all your companions, you are under my
authority--mine alone.'"
"These words were spoken with an intonation which made the maiden
tremble."
"'I Holy mother!' she murmured."
"'You were the intimate friend, almost the sister, of that young fool
whom her resistance to our sovereign will snapped asunder like a reed,
and who died this morning.'"
"'Do you really believe that she is dead, mother?' the girl answered
timidly, and in a voice interrupted by grief."
"'Who doubts it?' the abbess exclaimed, violently, as she half rose in
her chair, and fixed a viper's glance on the poor child."
"'No one, madam, no one,' she said, falling back with terror."
"'Were you not, like the other members of the community,' the abbess
continued, with a terrible accent, 'present at her funeral? Did you not
hear the prayers uttered over her coffin?'"
"'It is true, my mother!'"
"'Did you not see her body lowered into the convent vaults, and the
tombstone laid over it, which the angel of divine justice can alone
raise at the day of judgment? Say, were you not present at this sad
and terrible ceremony? Would you dare to assert that this did not take
place, and that the wretched creature still lives, whom God suddenly
smote in his wrath, that she might serve as a warning to those whom
Satan impels to revolt?'"
"'Pardon, holy mother, pardon! I saw what you say. I was present at
Doña Laura's interment. Alas! doubt is no longer possible; she is
really dead!'"
"While uttering the last words, the maiden could not restrain her
tears, which flowed copiously. The abbess surveyed her with a
suspicious air."
"'It is well,' she said; 'you can retire: but I repeat to you, take
care; I know that a spirit of revolt has seized on your heart as well,
and I shall watch you.'"
"The maiden bowed humbly to the Mother Superior, and moved as if to
obey the order she had received."
"At this moment a terrible disturbance was heard. Cries of terror and
threats reechoed in the corridor, and the hurried steps of a tumultuous
crowd could be heard rapidly approaching."
"'What is the meaning of this?' the abbess asked with terror; 'What is
this noise?'"
"She rose in agitation, and walked with tottering step toward the door
of the cell, on which repeated blows were being struck."
"'Oh, heavens!' the novice murmured, as she turned a suppliant glance
toward the statue of the Virgin, which seemed to smile on her; 'Have
our liberators at length arrived?'"
* * * * *
"We will return to Don Torribio, whom we left walking with his
companions toward the convent."
"As tad been arranged between himself and his accomplices, the young
man found all the band collected under the convent walls. Along the
streets the bandits, not to be disturbed by the serenos, had tied and
gagged them and carried them off, as they met them, separately. Thanks
to this skilful manoeuvre, they reached their destination without
hindrance. Twelve serenos were captured in this way: and, on reaching
the convent, Don Torribio gave orders for them to be laid one atop of
the other at the foot of the wall."
"Then, drawing from his pocket a velvet mask, he covered his face with
it (a precaution imitated by his comrades), and, approaching a wretched
hut which stood a short distance off, he stove in the door with his
shoulder. The owner rose up, frightened and half dressed, to inquire
the meaning of this unusual mode of rapping at his door; but the poor
fellow fell back with a cry of terror on perceiving the masked men
assembled before his door. Don Torribio, being in a hurry, commenced
the conversation by going straight to the subject matter:--'_Buenas
noches_ Tío Salado. I am delighted to see you in good health,' he said
to him."
"The other answered, not knowing exactly what he said,--"
"'I thank you, Caballero. You are too kind.'"
"'Make haste! get your cloak, and come with us.'"
"'I?' Salado said, with a start of terror."
"'Yourself.'"
"'But how can I be of service to you?'"
"'I will tell you. I know that you are highly respected at the convent
of the Bernardines--in the first place as a pulquero; and, secondly, as
_hombre de bien y religioso._'"
"'Oh! oh! to a certain extent,' the pulquero answered, evasively."
"'No false modesty. I know you have the power to get the gates of that
house opened when you please; it is for that reason I invite you to
accompany us.'"
"'_¡Maria Purísima!_ What are you thinking of, Caballero' the poor
fellow exclaimed, with terror."
"'No remarks! Make haste! or, by Nuestra señora del Carmen, I will burn
your rookery.'"
"'A hollow groan issued from Salado's chest; but, after taking one
despairing glance at the black masks that surrounded him, he prepared
to obey. From the pulquería to the convent was only a few paces--they
were soon passed, and Don Torribio turned to his prisoner, who was more
dead than alive."
"'There, _compadre_,' he said, distinctly, 'we have arrived. It is now
your place to get the door opened for us.'"
"'In heaven's name,' the pulquero exclaimed, making one last effort at
resistance, 'how do you expect me to set about it? You forget that I
have no means--'"
"'Listen,' Don Torribio said, imperiously; 'you understand that I have
no time for discussion. You will either introduce us into the convent,
and this purse, which contains fifty ounces, is yours; or you refuse,
and in that case,' he added, coldly, as he drew a pistol from his
girdle, 'I blow out your brains with this.'"
"A cold perspiration bedewed the pulquero's temples. He was too well
acquainted with the bandits of his country to insult them for a moment
by doubting their words."
"'Well!' the other asked, as he cocked the pistol, 'have you
reflected?'"
"'_Cáspita_, Caballero! Do not play with that thing. I will try.'"
"'Here is the purse to sharpen your wits,' Don Torribio said."
"The pulquero clutched it with a movement of joy, any idea of which it
is impossible to give; then he walked slowly towards the convent gate,
while cudgelling his brains for some way in which to earn the sum he
had received, without running any risk--a problem, we confess, of which
it was not easy to find the solution."
[1] Literally "Bread and salt for the knight-errants."