The individual thus introduced had all the air of one who had sustained
a loss--but of a much graver kind than the stealing of his chicks.
At a glance I could see that he was a Spanish-American of the pure
Iberian blood--the boasted _sangre azul_ of Andalusia--without any trace
of the Aztecan. Perhaps a Spaniard resident in Mexico--in other words,
a _Gachupino_? He had, at all events, the distinguished bearing of the
hidalgo; which was further confirmed by the fineness of his habiliments,
that differed very little from what might be seen on a well-dressed
English gentleman of the old school: for the stranger was a man of
advanced age.
He was clean shaven, without moustache or whisker; the hair upon his
head short-cut and snow-white; while that upon his arched eyebrows was
as black as it might have been at the age of twenty!
A piercing eye still showed the capability of flashing fire, when
occasion required it. Just then it was filled with a sombre light; and
his whole demeanour betokened a man who suffered from some overwhelming
sorrow.
Under its influence his habitual serenity had forsaken him; and, without
pausing inside the door, he walked hurriedly up to the general, and
commenced to unburden himself.
Between the two of us there was no possibility of mistaking which was
the commander-in-chief--so that the stranger had addressed himself to
the proper personage.
As his talk was Cherokee to the general--perhaps not so well
understood--he was motioned to make his communication to me.
I had already gathered from his introductory remarks, that he had been
travelling in a stage-coach, _en route_ for the capital on a special
errand to the general himself; and that a great misfortune had befallen
him on the road. I had by this time noticed a slight _delabrement_ in
his dress--to say nothing of some scratches on his hands and face--that
went towards confirming his hurried statement.
"A misfortune?" I asked, in my capacity of interpreter. "Of what
nature, senor?"
"_O cavallero; una cosa horrible; un robo! Por los bandoleros_!"
"A horrible business--a robbery by brigands!" I said, translating
literally to the general.
"How very singular!" remarked the commander-in-chief. "Quite a
coincidence! I think, captain, I shall have to grant your request."
"Of what have they robbed you, senor?" I inquired, in the continuation
of my new _role_. "Not your watch--else they would scarce have left you
those splendid appendages?"
I spoke of a massive chain and bunch of gold seals, with turquoise,
topaz, and other sparkling stones, that hung conspicuously from his
waistcoat.
"_Por Dios_, no! They did not take that!"
"Your purse, perhaps?"
"No, senor; they did not touch it either. They would have been welcome
to it, and the watch as well. Ah! they might have had everything else
but what they did take."
"What was it?"
"_Mias ninas! mias ninas_!"
"Ninyas!" interrupted the general, without waiting for the translation,
"that means young girls, don't it, captain?"
"In its general signification it does. As he has used it, it means his
own daughters."
"What! Have the brigands robbed him of them?"
"That's what he has just stated."
"Poor old gentleman--for he's evidently a gentleman! It's a hard case,
no doubt, to have his daughters carried off by brigands--worse than if
Indians had got them. Go on, and question him. Let him give the whole
story; and then ask him what he wants me to do. I'll wait till you've
finished. You can translate it all in a lump."
As the general said this he turned away, and speaking to his
aide-de-camp, dispatched the latter on some errand that carried him out
of the room.
He himself became engaged upon some charts--no doubt covered with "grand
strategic plans:" for although we were in the enemy's capital, it was
not certain that our campaign had come to a close, and more fighting
might be before us.
Left free to take my own course, I motioned the Mexican to a seat.
He declined it on the score of haste; and standing, I went on with his
confession.
"How did it happen? When? Where?" was the series of questions I
addressed to him in continuation.
"On the road, senor--as we came from La Puebla."
"From Puebla!" The words startled me into a strange interest.
"Si, senor; but much nearer to this city. It occurred within sight of
it, I may say--this side Rio Frio, and not far from the _venta_ of
Cordova."
"You were travelling?"
"We were travelling--myself, my two daughters, and our family confessor,
the good Padre Cornaga."
"In your carriage?"
"No, senor; in the _diligencia_. We were stopped by a band of
_ladrones_, all wearing crape over their faces."
"Well?"
"They ordered us out of the coach. Then to lie flat along the ground--
with a threat, that if we looked up till they gave the word, we should
be shot without ceremony."
"You obeyed, I presume?"
"_Carrai, senor_! Why need you ask the question? Not to do so would
have been certain death; and, of course, I did as the _ladrones_
commanded. My daughters, I am happy to think, were spared the
indignity. But what matters it, since they were carried off?"
"Whither?"
"_A los montes_!" "_Ay de mi_! Holy Virgin, protect them!"
"It is to be hoped she will. But why, may I ask, did you risk
travelling in the _diligencia_ between this place and Puebla? You had
no escort, I take it; and must have known that the road is unsafe?"
"True, cavallero, we had no escort. It was very imprudent on my part,
but I trusted to the counsels of our confessor--_un hombre muy sabio_--
who believed there was no danger. The good _padre_ assured us the roads
were safe--made so by you valiant _Americanos_--that there was not a
robber to be encountered between Puebla and the capital. Even then I
might not have listened to him, but that I had a good reason for coming
hither with my daughters; and as they--neither of them--were at all
afraid, but rather inclined to it, I ventured to travel by _diligencia_.
Alas! too easily did I yield consent to their wishes--as I have now
reason to know. _Dios de mi alma_! Despoiled of my children! Robbed!
Ruined!"
"I presume you had money upon your person, as well as these other
valuables?"
I pointed to the chain and seals hanging from the watch-pocket of the
petitioner. "They left you these! How do you account for it?"
"_Ay Dios, cavallero_! That is the strangest thing of all. I had both
money--gold money--and this watch. It is one of considerable value, as
you may judge for yourself."
The old gentleman drew out a grand chronometer-like timepiece, with
jewelled holes and strong gold cases--evidently worth a couple of
hundred dollars.
"They left me this," he continued, "and my money too! But what
signifies that, since they have taken away the _muchachas? Pobres
ninas_!"
"And they took _only_ them?" I asked, becoming interested in the story
of a robber episode so little in keeping with the ordinary experience.
"_Nada mas_."
"Nothing more! And your fellow-passengers in the _diligencia_? were
they alike sparing of their purses?"
"Fellow-passengers! We had none, senor capitan. There were but the
four of us, as I've said--all members of my own family: for of course we
count the good _padre_ as one of ourselves. True, there were two or
three other gentlemen who wished to get in with us at Puebla. They were
strangers to me; and, not liking their looks, I chartered the
_diligencia_ for myself. I believe they came in another coach after us.
I am sorry, now, we did not have them along with us. It might have
been better. It could not have been worse!"
"But the _padre_ of whom you speak--this _hombre muy sabio_--what has
become of him?"
"_Carrambo, senor_! That is the strangest thing of all: they kept him
too! After a time the robbers permitted my unworthy self to proceed on
the journey. But the monk they compelled to remain. What a scandal to
our Holy Church! I hope it will cause the excommunication of every
_ladron_ in Mexico, and have them devoted to the perdition they so
richly deserve. This comes of having changed our government into a
republic. It was not so in the old times, when Spain sent us a viceroy.
Then there were no robbers, such as these audacious _salteadores_, that
have this day deprived me of my dear daughters! _Ay de mi_! _Ay de
mi_!"
"What do you wish the general to do?" I inquired, as the old gentleman
became a little tranquillised, after a spasmodic outburst of grief.
"Senor," he replied, "we have all heard of the humanity of the American
`Gefe.' Though he is our country's enemy, we respect him for the
compassion he has shown to a conquered people. Entreat him to take my
unhappiness to heart. I know you will do so. Ask him to send out a
troop of his valiant dragoons, and recover my lost children. At sight
of your brave soldiers the robbers would take to flight, and leave the
poor _muchachas_ to be restored to their sorrowing father. O kind
capitan; do not deny me! My only hope is in you!"
Although the story of a father thus brutally bereft of his children was
of itself calculated to excite commiseration, I should, perhaps, not
have felt it very keenly, but for a souvenir it had stirred up within
me.
There was nothing at all strange in what he had told me. It was only
one of the "Cosas de Mexico," though, perhaps, not among the commonest.
Still it would have given me little more concern than one might feel on
reading the account of a lady in London streets--Bloomsbury-square, for
instance--having been stopped by a fustian-coated garotter, and relieved
of her pocket handkerchief, her card case, and vinaigrette.
Any chagrin the story caused me was but a resuscitation of that already
in my mind--the remembrance of my murdered friend, and my antipathy to
the whole fraternity of _salteadores_.
Both might have been freshly excited by his narrative, and nothing more;
but for the aroused remembrance, of which I have spoken; and which
secured him a sympathy I could scarcely explain. Besides, there was
something touching in the appeal of the old Don--not the less that it
was made with all the elegance and in the diction of an educated
gentleman.
I had no desire to resist it. On the contrary, I at once determined to
lay his case before the general, and strengthen it with my own
influence--so far as that went.
There was not much generosity in my motive. Without knowing it, the
Mexican had done me a service. I felt certain I should now have the
chance of chastising--if not the same brigands who had assassinated my
artist acquaintance--some who would have behaved quite as badly, had the
opportunity occurred to them.
Before turning to translate what had been communicated to me, I thought
it might be as well to make myself acquainted with the patronymic of the
petitioner.
"Your name?" I inquired, looking him full in the face, and with a vague
impression that I had somewhere seen him before, "You have not told me
that? The general may wish to know it."
"_Eusebio Villa-Senor. Al servicio de V_."
I started as if a shot had struck me. Oh! the memories that rolled up
at the mention of that name!
I was carried back to the City of the Angels--to the Calle del Obispo--
to the sorrow from which I had vainly imagined myself to have escaped!
Again was it upon me, full and fell as ever.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
With an effort I succeeded in controlling my emotions, or at least the
exhibition of them.
Absorbed in his own grief, Don Eusebio did not suspect the existence of
mine; and the general was still engrossed with his strategical
combinations.
I was now too deeply interested in the suit of the petitioner, to lose a
moment's time in placing it before him petitioned.
I endorsed it with all the eloquence I could command: since it was
almost identical with my own--already preferred.
Our joint prayer was heard, and granted upon the spot.
I obtained a commission to chastise any band of brigands, I might choose
to go out against.
Need I say, that I had not much difficulty in making the selection?