"Otra cosa de Mexico!"
Another strange occurrence of Mexico; if not the most incomprehensible,
certainly the most painful, that had yet come under my cognisance: for
it related to myself--the black, bitter part of it.
Words will not convey the state of my mind, as I stood regarding the
group inside. I could not move--either to advance, or go back. I could
scarce get breath. My heart felt as if compressed under a heavy weight,
never more to be removed. It was undergoing its maximum of misery.
My feelings can only be understood by one, who has had the misfortune to
pass through a like ordeal. He who has bestowed his affections upon
some high-born beauty may feel chagrin, on discovering that they are not
returned. It will be deepened by the knowledge, that another has won
the wished-for prize. Still is there solace, however slight, in the
reflection: that the preference has been given to one worthy, whose
fortune has been more favourable.
When otherwise--when the preferred rival is worthless, socially or
morally, then is the humiliation complete--overwhelming. It is
self-love stung to the quick.
Such a humiliation was I called upon to suffer.
With all my pretensions of pride--a conceit in the possession of certain
superiorities, mental as well as physical; courage, talent, strength,
activity; a position not humble; a reputation each day increasing; with,
and in spite of all these, I saw that my suit had been slighted, and the
favour I coveted more than aught upon earth, bestowed upon another.
And who that other? A _bandolero_! A robber!
It was the very wantonness of woe that swept over my heart, whelming it
with terrible desolation!
I stood like a stranded ship with the huge seas breaking over her.
Waves of passion rushed impetuously through my breast, black as the
billows of the storm-contorted ocean.
The spectacle, while stirring me to anger, at the same time kept me
fixed to the spot. I made no movement--either forward or backward. I
felt paralysed with a passion, such as I hope I may never feel again.
The world seemed full of woe!
For a time I was unable to reflect. My thoughts were but instincts, now
woeful, now wicked--now despairing, now tending to resolves.
One a little nobler at length took possession of me. My own fate was
sealed; but not that of Dolores Villa-Senor--which to me seemed equally
dark, and drear. Was it possible to save her?
I had not heard those mystic words that rivet the golden chain of
wedlock, "With this ring I thee wed." The shining symbol had not yet
appeared upon her finger.
There was still time to interrupt the ceremony. A single breath into
the silver tube, that hung suspended over my breast, would stay it; and,
before it could be resumed, the green jackets would be around me.
It was no thought of danger that withheld me from sounding that signal.
I was too unhappy to have a feeling of fear; too reckless to care a
straw for any consequences to myself. At that moment I could have
rushed into the presence of the bridal group, and defied one and all to
the death!
It was neither caution, nor a craven spirit, that restrained me; but an
instinct more ignoble than either--an instinct of revenge.
Dolores had adopted her destiny. However dark it might prove, it was
not for me to attempt turning it aside. She would not thank me for
saving her. Sweeter would be my triumph to show her the man she had
chosen for husband, in my power--a scorned captive at my feet.
So ran my ungenerous reflections.
"Let the marriage go on!" I muttered to him by my side. "She shall be
wed, and--widowed!"
In all my life I never felt so spitefully cruel--so desirous of
retaliation. Every spark of chivalric thought had departed from my
soul.
The imperturbable Yankee made no reply. The scene inside seemed to be
absorbing all his attention--as it was my own. Far different his
interpretation of it. With him it was simple conjecture. He little
suspected the knowledge I possessed, or the dread interest stirring
within me.
We remained in the maguey, to await the conclusion of the ceremony.
We saw the ring glancing between the fingers of the bridegroom. But it
came not in contact with those of the bride. Before that critical
moment arrived, a change--quick as the transformation in a pantomime--
terrible as the passage from calm to tropic storm--from life to death--
went sweeping over the scene!
A phalanx of dark forms rushed past the spot where we were crouching.
They were human--but so silent in their movements--so weird-like under
the wan light--as to appear spectral!
They could not be phantoms. One or two of them touched the tips of the
plant in passing, causing its elastic blades to rebound backwards. They
were forms of flesh, blood, and humanity; animated by the spirit of
fiends--as in another instant they proved themselves.
We saw them by a rapid rush precipitate themselves into the open
doorway--a few scattering along the facade, and taking stand by the
windows.
We saw the glittering of armour. We saw spears and _machetes_ thrust
through the iron bars. We heard the cocking of carbines, and the rude
summons to surrender--followed by menaces of murder!
There was a short scuffle in the _saguan_, and the courtyard behind it;
and then there were death groans, proceeding from the domestics, who
fell stabbed upon the stones!
The two apartments appeared to be simultaneously entered. Dark shadowy
forms flitted through the dining-room; but in the other the shadows were
darker.
There was a rushing to and fro--a changing of places--not as in a
kaleidoscope, but in crowded confusion. There was screaming of women--
shouting of men--threats and curses--followed by pistol reports; and,
what made the _fracas_ still more infernal, an occasional peal of
diabolical laughter!
Only for a short while did this continue; so short, that I scarce
believed in its reality till it was all over!
Almost at its commencement the lights in both rooms had been
extinguished; but whether by chance, or design, it was impossible for us
to tell.
What occurred afterwards we knew only by hearing, or from glimpses
afforded by the occasional flashing of firearms.
Though there was loud talking all the while that the strife continued--
with exclamations, every other one an oath--we heard nothing to give a
clue to it.
Nor did we find any explanation in what followed. We could only tell,
that the conflict had come to an end; that it was succeeded by the
shuffling of footsteps across the paved _patio_, gradually retiring to
the rear, and at length heard ascending the precipitous pine-covered
slope that soared darkly above the dwelling!
As they rose higher, they grew fainter; until the only sounds
distinguishable were the moanings of the Mexican owl, the hissing of the
cascade below, and the sighing of the mountain breeze among the tops of
the tall pine-trees.