THE DARK-HEARTS.
As we have seen, the people had dispersed almost immediately after the
execution of the patriots. Everyone carried away in the depths of his
heart the hope of avenging, at an early day, the victims who had so
nobly died, with the cry for a time left without an echo, of Viva la
patria! A cry checked by the bayonets of the soldiers of Bustamente, but
which must soon give birth to fresh martyrs.
And yet the square, though it seemed a desert, was not so. Several
men, folded in dark cloaks, and with broad-brimmed hats, pulled down
over their eyes, were grouped in the recess of the coach entrance of a
house, and were conversing earnestly together in a low voice, keeping an
anxious look-out the meanwhile. These men were patriots.
In spite of the terror which hovered over the city, they had, by dint of
prayers, obtained from the archbishop of Santiago, who was a true priest
according to the gospel, and at heart devoted to the liberal cause,
permission to pay the last rites to their unfortunate brethren.
No part of the dismal drama which followed the execution had escaped
them. They had seen Don Tadeo rise like a phantom from the heap of
carcasses which covered him; they had heard the words he had pronounced,
and were preparing to go to his succour, when the two strangers,
appearing suddenly, raised his body and bore it away. This carrying off
of a half dead man had surprised them exceedingly. After exchanging a
few words, two of them went in pursuit of the mysterious strangers,
probably in order to learn to what house the wounded man was taken,
whilst the others, twelve in number, advanced to the middle of the
square.
They anxiously bent down and examined the bodies stretched at their
feet, hoping, perhaps, that another victim might have escaped the
slaughter. Unfortunately, Don Tadeo was the only one saved by some
inexplicable mystery. The nine other victims were all dead. After a long
examination, the patriots stood up again with a painful sigh of regret,
and one of them went and knocked at a lower door of the cathedral.
"Who is there?" was immediately asked from the interior.
"_One for whom the night hath no darkness_," the man who had knocked
replied.
"What do you want?" the voice asked again.
"_Is it not written: Knock and it shall be opened to thee_?" the
stranger added.
"_Our country!_" said the voice.
"_Or vengeance!_" the man promptly replied.
The door opened, and a monk appeared. His cowl pulled down over his
face, prevented his features being seen.
"Well," he said, "what do the _Dark-Hearts_ require?"
"A prayer for their murdered brothers."
"Return to those who sent you; they shall be satisfied."
"Thanks for all!" the unknown replied; and, after bowing respectfully to
the monk, he rejoined his companions. During his absence they had not
been idle, but had placed the bodies upon hand barrows concealed under
the arcades of the place.
At the expiration of a few minutes a brilliant light inundated the
place; the cathedral doors were opened. The interior was seen to be
splendidly illuminated, and from the principal door issued a long
procession of monks, each bearing a wax light in his hand; they chanted,
as they walked, the service of the dead. At the same moment the gates
of the government palace were thrown open as if by enchantment, and a
squadron of the Ceras, with General Bustamente at their head, advanced,
at a trot, towards the procession.
When the monks and soldiers met, they stopped as of one accord. The
twelve unknown men, folded in their cloaks, and grouped round the
fountain which forms the centre of the square, anxiously awaited the
denouement of the scene about to take place.
"What is the meaning of this procession, at such an unusual hour?" the
general haughtily demanded.
"It means that we have come," the monk who walked first replied, with a
firm voice, but in a melancholy tone, "to take up the victims you have
struck down, and give them honourable burial."
"And who, pray, are you?" the general asked, sharply.
"I?" the monk replied, in the same firm tone, and throwing back his
cowl upon his shoulders--"I am the archbishop of Santiago, primate of
Chili, invested by his holiness the Pope with the power of binding and
unbinding on earth."
In Spanish America, all persons yield without hesitation to the religion
of Christ. The only power that is real is that of the priests. No one,
however high he may be placed, ventures to struggle against it: he knows
beforehand that, if he did, he would be sure to be crushed. The general
knitted his brows, struck his forehead forcibly with his hand, but was
constrained to admit himself conquered.
"My lord!" he said, with a bow; "pardon me! In these times of civil
discord, we often, in spite of ourselves, confound our friends with our
enemies. I was ignorant that your lordship had given orders for prayers
to be offered up for these criminals, and still more so that you would
deign to perform this task in person--I beg leave to retire."
During this scene, the patriots had concealed themselves behind the
pillars of the place, where, thanks to the darkness, they remained
unseen by the general. As soon as the military had disappeared, at a
sign from the archbishop the bodies were borne into the cathedral.
"Beware of that man, my lord," whispered one of the unknown in the
archbishop's ear; "he darted at you the glance of a tiger as he retired."
"Brother!" the priest replied calmly; "I am prepared for martyrdom."
The service commenced. As soon as it was terminated, the patriots
retired, after warmly thanking the archbishop for his kindness towards
their dead brethren. Scarce had they proceeded a few steps along a
narrow street, edged by mean dwellings, when two men rose from behind an
overturned cart which concealed them, and coming towards them, said in a
low voice--
"Our country!"
"Vengeance!" one of the unknown replied. "Come on!"
The two men approached.
"Well!" said he who appeared to be the chief. "What have you learnt?"
"All that it is possible to know," one of the newcomers replied.
"Whither have they transported Don Tadeo?"
"To the mansion of the Linda."
"To the residence of his wife! Of the woman who is now the mistress
of the General Bustamente!" the chief replied anxiously. "By the holy
Virgin! my comrades, he is lost, for she hates him mortally. Shall we
allow him to be assassinated without an effort to save him?"
"That would be base cowardice," they replied unanimously.
"But how can we introduce ourselves into the house?"
"Nothing more easy; the garden walls are very low."
"Come on, then! there is not a minute to be lost!"
Without another word, they all hastened off in the direction of the
Linda's house, which, as we have said, was situated in the faubourg
of the Canadilla, the handsomest quarter in Santiago. The windows,
hermetically closed, did not allow one ray of light to pass; not a
sound could be heard, and the house seemed deserted. The patriots stole
silently round the walls, and when they reached the back, they easily
climbed the fence by sticking their poniards between the bricks, and
sprang into the garden. Here they looked carefully about them, and,
after a short pause, proceeded with stealthy steps towards a pale,
trembling light, which sent a feeble beam through the chink of a
shutter. They were within a few paces of this window, when they suddenly
heard the noise of what appeared a scuffle, and a terrible cry was
uttered, mingled with the crash of furniture and imprecations of rage
and pain. Bounding forward like panthers, the strangers, who had covered
their faces with masks of black velvet, dashed at the window, which flew
in a thousand fragments around them, and entered the salon.
And it was time for them to arrive. Don Tadeo, with a stool, had split
the head of one of the bandits, who lay lifeless upon the floor; but
the other had got him down, and, with his knee upon his breast, was on
the point of stabbing him. With a pistol shot, one of the unknown blew
out his brains, and the wretch rolled in his agony close to his dead
companion. Don Tadeo sprang up quickly, exclaiming--
"By the Virgin! I thought my hour was come!" Then, turning towards the
masked men, he said--"Thanks, caballeros! thanks for your very timely
succour! One minute more, and it would have been all over with me! The
Linda is expeditious!"
The courtesan, with features contracted by rage, and clenched teeth,
looked on without appearing to see, overwhelmed, confounded by the scene
which had so rapidly taken place, and which had, in a few minutes,
ravished from her the vengeance which she thought had this time been so
certain.
"Without bearing malice, madam," said Don Tadeo in a jeering tone, "this
is a match deferred. Your fertile imagination will no doubt soon furnish
you with the means of taking your revenge!"
"I hope so," she said with a sardonic smile.
"Seize this woman," the leader of the unknown commanded; "gag her, and
bind her securely to the bed."
"Bind me!" she cried in a paroxysm of anger; "me! do you know who I am?"
"Perfectly well, madam," the stranger replied drily. "You are a woman
for whom honourable people have no name. Libertines have given you that
of the Linda, and your present lover is General Bustamente. You see,
madam, that we are not unacquainted with you."
"Beware, sir," she hissed; "I am not to be insulted with impunity."
"We do not insult you, madam; we only wish, for a time, to put it out
of your power to do mischief. In a few days," he continued, in a quiet,
firm tone, "we will determine what shall be done with you."
"Done with me!--me!--who then are you, with faces you dare not reveal,
and who presume to speak to me thus?"
"Who we are,--learn!--We are the _Dark-Hearts!_" At this terrible
announcement, a convulsive trembling shook the limbs of the woman, who,
retreating to the wall, a prey to intense terror, exclaimed in a faint
voice; "My God! my God! I am lost," and sank down fainting.
At a sign from the leader, one of his companions bound her securely, and
after gagging her, fastened her to the foot of the bed. Then, taking Don
Tadeo with them, they departed by the same way they had entered, without
taking any heed of the two assassins lying upon the floor. Before he
left the room, the chief pinned a piece of parchment to a table with
a dagger. Upon this parchment were written a few words of terrible
import:--
"_The traitor Pancho Bustamente is cited at the expiration of
ninety-three days!"_
THE DARK-HEARTS.