THE INTERVIEW.
Marksman followed Atoyac to the Palace of the Virgins of the Sun. In
spite of himself, the intrepid hunter felt his heart contract when
he thought of the perilous situation in which he was about to place
himself, and the terrible consequences discovery would entail. Still,
he stood up against this emotion, and succeeded in regaining sufficient
power over himself to affect a tranquillity and indifference which were
far from real. The two men walked silently side by side. The hunter,
fearing this prolonged dumbness might inspire his pride with doubts,
resolved to make him talk, in order to give his thoughts a different
direction from that he feared to see them take. "My brother has
travelled much?" he asked him.
"Where is the warrior of our race whose life has not been spent in
long journeys?" the Indian answered, sententiously. "The Palefaces--my
brother knows it better than I--chase us like wild beasts, and compel
us incessantly to retire before their successive encroachments."
"That is true," the hunter said, shaking his head with a melancholy
air. "What desert is so obscure in which we are now permitted to hide
the bones of our fathers, with the certainty that the plough of the
whites will not come to crush them in tracing its interminable furrow,
and scatter them in every direction?"
"Alas!" Atoyac observed, "the red race is accursed. The day will come
when it will be sought in vain on the immense plains where it was
formerly more numerous than the brilliant stars which stud the vault
of heaven; for it is fatally condemned to disappear from the surface
of the world. The Palefaces are only the terrible implements of the
implacable wrath of the Wacondah against the children of the red
family."
"My father only speaks too well. Formerly our race was all-powerful;
now it has fallen lower than the vilest slave, and has no hope left it
of ever rising again."
"What has become of the powerful emperors of Anahuac, who commanded the
whole earth? Of the numberless cities they founded, but five compose
today the territory of Tlapalean.[1] They are the last refuges of the
children of Quetyalcoalt,[2] who are forced to hide themselves there
like timid deer, instead of boldly treading the countries possessed in
old times by their ancestors."
"But, thanks be rendered to the Wacondah, whose power is infinite,
these five cities are completely sheltered from the insults of the
Gachupinos."
Atoyac shook his head sadly, "My father is mistaken," he said. "Where
is the hidden spot to which Palefaces do not penetrate?"
"That is possible. They effect everything; but up to the present no
Paleface has gazed on Quiepaa Tani. They have not been able to cross
the mountains and traverse the deserts, behind which the sacred city
rises calm and peaceful, deriding the vain efforts of its enemies to
discover it."
"Scarce two suns ago, I should have spoken like my brother. I should
have rejoiced with him at this ignorance of the Palefaces; but today
this is no longer possible."
"How so? What can have happened in so short a space of time, that
compels my brother to alter his opinion so suddenly?" the hunter asked,
growing all at once interested, and fearful of hearing bad news.
"The Palefaces are in the vicinity of the city. They have been seen;
they are numerous and well armed."
"It is not so; my father is mistaken. Cowards or old women were
frightened by their shadow, and spread this report," the Canadian
answered, shivering all over.
"Those who brought the news are neither cowards, afraid of their
shadow, nor chattering old women--they are renowned chiefs. Today, at
the Great Council, they announced the presence of a strong party of
Palefaces, concealed in the forest, whose trees have so long spread out
their protecting branches before us, to conceal us from the piercing
glances of our enemies."
"These men, however numerous they may be, unless they form a real army,
will not venture to attack a city so strong as this, defended by thick
walls, and containing a considerable number of chosen warriors."
"Perhaps. Who can know? At any rate, if the Palefaces do not attack us,
we shall attack them. Not one of them must see again the land of the
Palefaces. Our future security demands it."
"Yes, it must be so; but are you sure that the Chiefs of whom you
speak, and whose names I do not know, may not deceive you, and be
traitors?"
Atoyac stopped and fixed a piercing glance on the Canadian, who endured
it with a calm air and unmoved countenance. "No," he said, a moment
after, "Red Wolf and Addick are no traitors."
The hunter seemed to reflect for a moment, and then exclaimed, with
a resolute air, which imposed on the Indian, "No, indeed, those two
chiefs are not traitors; but they are on the road to become so ere
long. The dangers which menace us they heaped up on our heads to
satisfy their passions and thirst for vengeance."
"Let my brother explain," the Chief said, at the height of
astonishment. "His words are plain."
"I did wrong to utter them," the hunter continued, with feigned
humility. "I am only a man of peace, to whom the omnipotent Wacondah
has given the mission of relieving, according to the knowledge granted
him, the ills of humanity. I, a poor being, ought not to try and
uproot the powerful oak, whose weight in falling would crush me. Let
my brother pardon me. I imprudently allowed my indignation to carry me
away."
"No, no," the Chief exclaimed, pressing his arm forcibly; "it cannot be
so. My father has begun, and he must tell me all."
With that quickness of thought that distinguished him, the hunter had
conceived a plan founded on the distrust which forms the basis of the
Indian character. He pretended resistance to the Chief's instructions,
and was unwilling to enter into details of what he had let him have a
glimpse of; but the more the pretended medicine man declined to speak,
the more did the Chief press him to do so. At length the hunter feigned
to be intimidated by his host's mingled prayers and threats, and still
alleging the fear he felt of drawing on himself the hatred of two
renowned chiefs, he at length consented to give the information for
which Atoyac pressed him so urgently. "Here are the facts," he said. "I
will relate them to my brother exactly as they came to my knowledge.
Still, my brother will pledge me his word, that whatever be the
resolution he forms after hearing my words, he will in no way mix up a
peaceful and timid man in this affair. That my name shall not be even
mentioned, and that the chiefs whose conduct I am now about to unveil,
will not be aware of my presence at Quiepaa Tani?"
"My brother can speak in all confidence. I swear to him by the sacred
name of the Wacondah, and by the great Ayotl, that whatever happens,
his name shall not be mixed up in this affair. No one shall know in
what way I obtained the information he will give me. Atoyac is one of
the first sachems in Quiepaa Tani. When it pleases him to say a thing,
his words do not require to be confirmed by any other testimony than
his own."
As so often happens, under present circumstances, apart from the
discomfort produced by the hunter's reticence, the Chief was not sorry
at the importance the details he was about to learn would assuredly
give him, and the part he would be indubitably called on to play in the
events which would result from them.
"Och!" the hunter said, with a sigh of satisfaction, "if that is
the case, I will speak." Then the Canadian told his complaisant and
credulous hearer a long and wonderfully confused story, in which truth
was so artfully mixed up with falsehood, that it would have been
impossible for the acutest man to distinguish one from the other; but
the result of which was, that, if the whites had reached the vicinity
of the city, Addick and Red Wolf had lured them after them, only
connecting their trail sufficiently for their pursuers not to lose
it. The whole of the facts recounted by the hunter were so skilfully
grouped, that the two chiefs, enveloped in this network of truth
and falsehood, must be inevitably convicted of treason if closely
cross-questioned, which the worthy hunter hoped most sincerely. "I will
allow myself no reflections," he added, in conclusion; "my brother is a
wise chief and experienced warrior: he will judge far better than I, a
poor worm, can of the gravity of the things he has just heard; still, I
implore him to remember what he has promised."
"Atoyac has only one word," the Chief answered. "My father can reassure
himself; but what I have heard is extremely serious. Let us lose no
more time; I must go to the first Chief of the city."
"Perhaps the two Sachems have drawn the Palefaces so near us with a
good intention," the hunter insinuated; "they hope, possibly, to pounce
upon them with greater ease."
"No," Atoyac answered, with a gloomy air; "their intentions can only be
perfidious; their machinations must be foiled as speedily as possible;
if not, great misfortunes will occur, especially after the decision of
the Council, which gives the command of the warriors destined to act in
the city to Red Wolf, under the orders of the governor."
Fortunately for the hunter, Atoyac was a personal enemy of Red Wolf
and Addick, which prevented him noticing with what cunning skill the
Canadian had led him to listen to his narrative.
The two men hastily continued their walk, and in a few minutes reached
the Palace of the Vestals. After a few words with the warrior who had
charge of the gate, the Chief and the medicine man were introduced
into the interior. The High Priest came eagerly toward the newcomers,
whom he had been eagerly expecting. The Amantzin regarded the hunter
with suspicious attention, and made him undergo an interrogatory like
Atoyac's in the morning.
His answers, prepared long before, pleased the High Priest; for, a few
moments after, he led him to the reserved apartments of the Palace,
in order to examine the state of the maidens. The Canadian's heart
trembled with the most violent emotion, and large drops of perspiration
beaded in his face. Indeed, the critical position in which he found
himself, was really of a nature to inspire him with serious alarm. What
he feared most of all was the effect his presence might produce on the
maidens, if, in spite of his perfect disguise, they recognized him at
once, or when he made himself known to them; for it was indispensable
for the success of the trick he intended to play, that those he was
going to see should know with whom they had to deal, and enter fully
into the spirit of the characters he meant them to play in the farce.
These reflections, and many others which rushed on the hunter, imparted
to his face a look of sternness, which was far from injuring him in the
minds of those who accompanied him. They at length reached the entrance
of the secret apartments, whose door, at a sign from the High Priest,
was widely opened before them. But so soon as they entered a large
hall, which, through the absence of all furniture, might be regarded as
a vestibule, the Amantzin turned to Atoyac, and gave him the order to
wait there, while he led the medicine man to the captives.
As we have already said, the abode of the Virgins of the Sun was
interdicted to all men, excepting the High Priest. Under certain
circumstances, one person might be an exception to this rule, and that
was the doctor. Atoyac was too well acquainted with the severe law of
the palace to offer the slightest remark; still, when the High Priest
prepared to leave him, he caught him respectfully by the robe, and bent
to his ear. "My brother will return promptly," he said to him in a low
voice; "I have important news to communicate to him."
"Important news," the Amantzin repeated, as he stared at him.
"Yes," the Chief said.
"And they concern me?" the High Priest continued slowly.
Atoyac smiled confidentially. "I think so," he said, "for they relate
to Red Wolf and Addick."
The High Priest gave a slight start. "I will return in a moment,"
he said, with a gracious nod; then turning to the hunter, who stood
motionless a few steps off, apparently indifferent to what passed
between the two men, he said to him,--"Come."
The hunter bowed, and followed the High Priest. The latter led him
across a long courtyard paved with bricks, and ascending ten steps of
blue and green-veined marble, he conducted him into a small isolated
pavilion, completely separate from the building in which the Virgins
of the Sun were secluded. The High Priest closed the door behind him,
which gave them admission to the pavilion; they crossed a species
of antechamber, and the Amantzin, raising a drapery which hung over
a narrow doorway, introduced the pretended physician into a room
splendidly furnished in the Indian style. The High Priest, wishing,
if possible, to make the maidens forget they were captives, had
gilded their cage with the utmost care, by decorating it with all
the articles of luxury and comfort which he supposed would please
them. In an elegant hammock of cocoa-fibre, overrun with feathers,
and hanging from golden rings, about eighteen inches from the floor,
there reclined a young woman, whose face of excessive pallor bore
the imprint of profound sorrow, and the evident traces of a serious
illness. It was Doña Laura de Real del Monte. By her side, with folded
arms and tear-laden eyes, stood Doña Luisa, her friend, or rather her
sister, through suffering and devotion. The state of prostration into
which Doña Luisa was plunged, proved that, in spite of her strength
of character, she had also, for some time past, given up all hope of
ever leaving the prison in which she was confined. This room, receiving
no light from without, was illuminated by four torches of ocote wood,
passed through gold rings in the wall, whose vacillating flame dimly
lighted up the scene.
On seeing the two men, Doña Laura made a sign of terror, and buried
her face in her hands. The hunter saw that he must precipitate events,
so he turned to his guide, "The Wacondah is powerful," he said, in an
imposing voice; "the sacred tortoise supports the world on its shell.
His spirit eye is on me; it inspires me. I must remain alone with the
patients, that I may read in their faces the nature of the illness that
torments them."
The High Priest hesitated; he fixed on the pretended physician a glance
which seemed to try and read his most secret thoughts. But, although
accustomed for many years to deceive his countrymen by his mystic
juggling, he was, after all, an Indian, and, as such, as accessible to
superstitious fears as those he deluded. He therefore hesitated, "I am
the Amantzin," he said, with a respectful accent. "The Wacondah can
only view with satisfaction my presence here at this moment."
"My father can remain, if such is his pleasure; I do not compel him to
retire," the Canadian answered boldly, as he was determined to gain his
point at all hazards. "Now I warn him that I am in no way responsible
for the terrible consequences his disobedience will entail. The Spirit
that possesses me will be obeyed, for it is jealous. Let my father
reflect."
The High Priest bowed his head humbly. "I will retire," he said; "my
brother will pardon my pressing." And he left the apartment.
The Canadian silently accompanied him to the door of the vestibule,
closed it carefully after him, and ran back to the young ladies, who
recoiled with terror. "Fear nothing," he whispered; "I am a friend."
"A friend!" Doña Laura exclaimed, who had fled, all trembling, into a
corner of the room.
"Yes," he continued hastily; "I am Marksman, the Canadian hunter, the
friend, the companion of Don Miguel."
Doña Laura sat up in her hammock, and a cry of surprise and joy burst
from her chest.
"Silence!" the hunter said; "they may be listening."
Doña Luisa gazed with dilated eyes on this scene, whose meaning escaped
her.
"You, Marksman!" Doña Laura at length said, with an accent impossible
to describe. "Oh! we may be saved, then; we are not abandoned by all."
And, sliding to the ground, she knelt piously, and, with clasped
hands, murmured a fervent prayer, while her eyes filled with tears.
Then, rising suddenly, she seized the hunter's hands, and pressed them
passionately. "Don Miguel," she said; "where is he?"
"He is close by, and waiting for you. But, for Heaven's sake, listen to
me; moments are precious."
"Oh, Caballero! take us away, take us away quickly," Doña Laura at
length said, completely recovered from her emotion.
"Soon."
"Yes, yes, save us!" Doña Laura exclaimed; "my father will reward you."
Marksman smiled. "Your father will be very glad to see you again," he
said, softly.
Doña Laura raised to him her lovely eyes, radiant with joy. "Where is
my father?" she asked him; but then added, "no, I cannot see him. He is
far, very far from here."
"He is with Don Miguel, in the forest. Set your mind at rest."
"Oh, Heaven!" the maiden exclaimed, "it is too much happiness."
At this moment someone could be heard ascending the marble steps.
"Hist!" the hunter said, sharply; "be on your guard."
"But what must we do?" Doña Laura asked, in a low voice.
"Wait, and have confidence."
"What, are you going?"
"Leave us already?" they exclaimed together, with a movement of terror.
"I will return. Leave me to act. Once again, hope and patience."
"Oh, if you were to abandon us; if you did not save us," Laura said, in
despair, "we should have nothing left but to die."
"Oh, have pity on us!" Doña Luisa murmured;
"Trust to me, poor children," the hunter answered, more affected than
he liked to seem by this simple and profound sorrow. "Remember this
carefully--whatever happens, whatever may be told you, whatever sound
you hear, trust to me--to me alone--for I am watching over you. I have
sworn to save you, and I will succeed."
"Thanks!" they replied.
The steps had stopped at the door.
Marksman, after making the maidens a last sign to recommend them
prudence, composed his features, sharply opened the door, and,
without uttering a word, passed by the High Priest, whom he did not
seem to notice, but evinced great marks of agitation, and, making
incomprehensible signs, ran toward the spot where Atoyac was awaiting
him. The Amantzin was dumb with surprise. After a moment, he closed the
doors the hunter had left open, and followed him, but as if he did not
dare to draw towards him.
The maidens did not know whether they were not the sport of a dream.
So soon as they were alone, they fell into each other's arms, sobbing
violently.
[1] Literally, "red country."
[2] Curlyce of Mexico: literally, it means the "serpent covered with
feathers."