DISGRACE.
As we have already said, Don Torribio had rapidly quitted the Hacienda
del Cormillo in company with the mysterious stranger whom he had met in
such an extraordinary manner.
Their journey was not long. At the close of a quarter of an hour, the
stranger pulled up his horse, saying, in a sharp tone:
"It is useless to take you farther before I know what I have to expect
from you."
Don Torribio had halted at the same time as the unknown.
"I think you are making a mistake, caballero," said he dryly.
"In what way, if you please, señor?" said the other in a sneering tone.
"I am going to put you in possession of a few facts, which will put us
on a level with each other."
"Let us hear them, caballero; I am all attention."
"In the first place," said Don Torribio firmly, "before we go any
farther, let me give you a piece of advice."
"Advice is always useful: if yours is good, I shall profit by it; of
that be certain."
"You will be right. I am unaware whether you know me, but be sure of
this: I am not easily frightened; and if, for some unknown reason, you
have led me into an ambush, I warn you that, at the first suspicious
movement you make, I will blow your brains out; for I neither know you,
nor what your intentions are."
"Good! You are a man after my own heart, I see clearly we shall come to
an understanding."
"Perhaps so. But as it is not I who have come to seek you out,--as
I have not claimed your aid in any way,--I demand, in the first
place, that you give me a clear explanation, without prevarication or
circumlocution."
The stranger shrugged his shoulders.
"Is it not enough for you to know that I am in a position to serve you
effectually in the plans of vengeance you meditate?"
"I neither understand what you say, nor to what you allude," said Don
Torribio haughtily.
"Aha!" said the other, laughing grimly; "Is that the way you answer
me?"
"Why should I give you a different answer? What right have you to my
confidence? On what plea, supposing I have a secret, do you pretend to
search into it?"
"Because your enemy is mine also; because, in avenging you, I avenge
myself. Do you understand me now?"
"No more than I did before. If you have nothing else to say, we had
better break off our conference and part."
The stranger made a gesture of impatience: he had not expected to meet
with so much inflexibility.
"One word more, Don Torribio Quiroga. The man whom you hate, whose
death you have already plotted, is called Don Fernando Carril. That man
who for a long time has crossed your path at every turn, counteracting
your plans and ruining your hopes, has overthrown you in all your
reencounters; your very life belongs to him; he has taken all, even to
the heart of her you love. Is not this true? Will you trust me now?"
Don Torribio had listened with mingled pain and anger to the
revelations of the singular being who had accosted him.
"Yes," said he, clenching his hand with rage, "yes, you are well
informed. I care not whether you have gleaned your knowledge from
heaven or hell; it is accurate. This man is my evil genius, always
and forever crossing my path, and overthrowing, as if in wantonness,
my most cherished aspirations. I would sacrifice my whole fortune to
avenge myself on him--to hold him, panting and despairing, in my power."
"I thought we should end by coming to an understanding."
"Do not mock me, señor; my soul is deeply troubled. I could have
forgiven this man his insolent good luck, his success in the world,
where he thrives at my expense, the heaps of gold he wins with such
proud indifference,--I say, I could have forgiven him all this, if
he had not destroyed my sweetest hopes in tearing from me the heart
of her I love; for although I have no tangible proof to corroborate
my suspicions, I have tonight acquired a moral certainty impossible
to controvert. A lover's heart does not deceive him; jealousy is
sharp-sighted. On the appearance of Don Fernando at Don Pedro de
Luna's, I found in him a rival, and a rival who is preferred to me."
"If you choose, I will rid you of Don Fernando, and deliver Doña
Hermosa into your hands."
"You will do that?" cried Don Torribio, beside himself with joy.
"I will do it," briefly responded the stranger. "Before two days are
over, you shall have your revenge on both. But it all depends upon your
own will."
"Ah! If that is all," said the other, with an indescribable expression
of rage, "I will do all you ask, I will agree to all your demands, to
the utmost of my power."
"Take heed, Don Torribio; we are about to enter into a compact--a
compact, the conditions of which you must fulfil at all hazards."
"Whatever they may be, I will fulfil them, if you secure my twofold
revenge."
"Good! Swear to me, by all you hold most sacred in this world,
that, whatever may happen, whatever determination you may arrive at
hereafter, you will never divulge what is going to pass between us."
"I swear to you, _a fe de_ caballero," (on the honour of a gentleman),
"señor. Speak with all confidence."
"Just now you asked me who I am: I am the Tigercat!"
Don Torribio shuddered involuntarily on hearing this redoubtable name,
but recovered himself immediately.
"Very good," said he; "the name you reveal is a guarantee of success to
my vengeance."
"Yes," said the bandit, chuckling, "I dare say it is; my reputation has
been established a long time on the frontiers. In the meantime, this is
what I exact of you. Ponder well what you are about to hear--reflect
seriously on what I am going to propose--before you answer; for, I
repeat once more, I will compel you to act up to the conditions when
once you have accepted them."
"Speak," he replied impatiently; "have I not told you I am longing for
revenge?"
"Hear me, then, and remember your oath. I am at this moment preparing
an expedition against San Lucar, of which I intend to gain possession
at any price. For certain reasons, which need not be mentioned, I have
assembled several tribes of the Apaches and a considerable number of
_vaqueros_, who are concealed not far from hence, and only await my
signal to fall, like tigers thirsting for blood, upon the _pueblo_, as
it is gorged with wealth. An active and intelligent ally, upon whom I
counted to execute this bold _coup-de-main_, has deserted me at the
last moment. You alone can replace him: will you do so?"
"What is this?" exclaimed Don Torribio, shuddering; "It is treason you
propose!"
"No," replied the other, in a deep voice, "it is revenge!--consummate
vengeance, by which I shall confound your enemies, and those who have
applauded their success, while they laughed in scorn at each of your
disasters."
"What! I, Don Torribio Quiroga, belonging to one of the oldest families
in the country; I am to associate--"
He hesitated and paused. The Tigercat laughed with disdain.
"With bandits and redskins, you would say, and wage war on your own
countrymen. Why hesitate to pronounce the words? As for me, those
qualifications have no value. I offer you revenge on your countrymen,
who have become your enemies in siding with your adversary. You are
about to engage in a duel. In a duel, all feints to kill your opponent
are lawful. But these are my conditions, and I will not alter them a
tittle. I will give you twenty-four hours for consideration."
A long silence ensued between the two men.
The night was dark; the wind howled mournfully through the branches of
the trees; nameless noises passed them by, borne on the wings of the
breeze.
At last Don Torribio answered in husky tones:
"You have given me twenty-four hours; I demand forty-eight to come to
my determination. I will make one more attempt with her I love. You
see, I am frank with you. The line of conduct I adopt will depend upon
the result of the experiment."
"Be it so," said the Tigercat; "it is better thus. Your cooperation
will be more efficacious, and your will firmer, when your last allusion
has been torn from you. Go, then! For my part, I shall not be idle."
"Thanks! In case I want to communicate to you my resolve, where shall I
find you?"
"I will await you at the Barranca del Fraile" (the Friar's inn).
"Agreed! God grant," he added, with a sigh, "that fate may not force me
to be there!"
The Tigercat laughed aloud; and, without replying, spurred his horse,
and disappeared in the darkness.
We have already related how the old freebooter acted to keep his
promise to Don Torribio.
The desertion among the Apaches, brought about by the influence of the
_amantzin_, on the night when the Tigercat left them to repair to the
rendezvous arranged with Stoneheart, had not been as successful as the
sorcerer had hoped. The sudden return of the old chief sufficed to
restore his authority among the Apaches, who had long been accustomed
to obey him, and whose raids against the frontier had always been
productive of booty when he commanded them.
The Tigercat had not even taken the trouble to punish the _amantzin_
himself--the Zopilote had taken care of that; and the summary execution
had produced an excellent effect upon those rugged and savage minds,
which brute force alone can tame.
Nevertheless, he had no wish to damp the renewed devotion shown him
by the redskins; and, although his final dispositions were not yet
made, and the defection of Stoneheart was a serious hindrance to his
plans, he comprehended the necessity of hurrying on his expedition,
even at the risk of seeing it fail, calculating on turning to his own
profit the hatred of Don Torribio, whose high standing in the province
might be very useful to him. He assembled all the Indians able to
bear arms of whom he could dispose, crossed the Rio Grande del Norte;
and these vultures fell like a devastating hurricane on the luckless
Indian frontier,--burning, pillaging, slaughtering, and passing like
a horrible plague over those magnificent plains which they left behind
them a desert.
Don Torribio Quiroga was one of the first to learn the tidings of the
Indian invasion. The news gave him an indescribable feeling of mingled
joy and regret. He guessed that the Tigercat wished to give him a proof
of the sincerity of his intentions towards him, and of the manner in
which he meant to keep the promise he had given.
Up to that time a prey to a thousand conflicting feelings, he now
resolved to settle his doubts at once, and to learn positively what
he had to hope or fear from Doña Hermosa and her father. Towards nine
o'clock in the morning, he called for his horse, and, in spite of the
danger he would certainly incur in the short space between the presidio
and the hacienda, he managed to leave San Lucar, on which the Indians
were rapidly moving, and rode at full speed towards El Cormillo.
About half way to the hacienda his horse started at several dead bodies
lying across the road, riddled with wounds; but he was too preoccupied
by his own thoughts to pay much attention to the ominous reencounter.
As he rode past, he cast a careless look at the corpses, and continued
his road without further thought of the incident.
Either designedly, or because they knew the futility of an attack on
the hacienda, the Apaches had deviated from their furious course, so as
not to approach it. When Don Torribio arrived, he found it in a perfect
state of defence: the gates shut and barricaded with care, the windows
blocked and loopholed; and he saw the bayonets of the numerous garrison
gleaming above the walls in the sunshine.
The sentries placed at the principal entrance gave admittance to Don
Torribio, but not before they had questioned and recognised him. A
_peon_ received and conducted him to the drawing room. He found three
persons there: Don Pedro de Luna, Ña Manuela, and Don Estevan Diaz,
who, pale and bloody, was lying upon a sofa, apparently asleep. His
mother, seated beside him, watched his slumbers with that tender
solicitude which belongs to mothers only. Don Torribio took a few
hesitating steps forward, and stopped in surprise when he perceived
that no one seemed to notice his presence. At last Don Pedro raised his
eyes, and looking at him coldly, said, "Oh! Is it you, cousin? How
does it happen that you are here today?"
"Had I no other motive," replied Don Torribio, troubled by a reception
he had not anticipated, and foreseeing a storm, "the lively interest I
take in your family would have made it my duty to be here now."
"I thank you, cousin," said Don Pedro still more coldly, "for the
proof of sympathy you are kind enough to give us. But you might have
remembered that El Cormillo is in a perfect state of defence, and that
we run no danger behind these walls, before you exposed yourself to
be assassinated on the road, as has nearly happened to our poor Don
Estevan."
"Has he been set upon?" asked Don Torribio.
"Yes," dryly replied the hacendero; "he and another person, who, less
lucky than Estevan, is most likely dead. Did you not know it?"
"I!" Exclaimed Don Torribio, with an accent of truth there was no
mistaking; "How should I know?"
"Excuse me, cousin; I am so troubled at what has occurred, that I
hardly know what I am saying."
Don Torribio bowed, and then replied:
"May I not have the pleasure of offering my homage to my charming
cousin?"
"You must excuse her; she has retired to her room. The poor child is so
distracted by the late extraordinary events, that she is unable to see
any one--not even you."
"I am the more grieved at this indisposition, as I wished to have some
conversation with her on a matter of moment."
"So much the worse, cousin; so much the worse. The time is ill chosen
to speak of business, as you must allow, when the Indians are at our
gates, devastating our fields and burning our dwellings."
"True, cousin; I acknowledge the justice of your remark. Unfortunately,
I find myself placed by chance in such extraordinary circumstances,
that if I might persist--"
"It would be useless, my dear Don Torribio," said Don Pedro,
interrupting him, and exhibiting a certain degree of stiffness. "I have
the honour to tell you that my daughter cannot have the pleasure of
seeing you today."
"Then pray, cousin, excuse my inopportune intrusion. Perhaps I shall be
more lucky another day."
"That is it; some other day, when we have got rid of these cursed
pagans, and have no longer a horrible death in perspective."
"And now," said Don Torribio, with ill-suppressed rage, "as I perceive
that, owing to your abstraction doubtless, you have not even offered me
a seat, cousin, I have no more to do than offer my good wishes for your
safety, and take my leave of you."
The hacendero did not seem to observe the tone of ill humour in which
these words were uttered.
"Good-bye, then, Don Torribio," said he, "and a lucky journey. Above
all things, be prudent, and do not travel with your eyes shut. The
roads are infested by brigands, and I should be in despair if you met
with mishap."
"I thank you for your advice, and will follow it," he replied, turning
to leave the room.
Just at this moment Don Estevan--who, as we have said, appeared to
be sleeping--opened his eyes, and perceived Don Torribio. His look
brightened.
"Mother," said he in a feeble voice, "and you, Don Pedro, do me the
favour to leave me alone with this caballero for a short time. I have a
few words to say to him in private."
"To me, señor?" asked Don Torribio, in a tone so haughty it sounded
like disdain.
"To yourself, Señor Don Torribio Quiroga," replied the wounded man,
whose voice grew stronger under the excitement of his feelings.
"You are very weak, my son, for a conversation with any one," said
Manuela.
"Perhaps, my friend," said Don Pedro, "it would be more prudent to
defer it for a few days."
"No," was the reply; "it must be today--must be this instant."
"Just as you please, headstrong!" said Don Pedro. "We will go into the
anteroom, where we shall be within call. Come, Manuela."
Don Estevan kept his eyes fixed on the door till it closed behind them;
then he turned to Don Torribio, who was still standing in the centre of
the room.
"Come nearer, señor, that you may be better able to hear what I have to
say to you."
"I am listening to you, señor; but, at the same time, must beg you not
to delay your communication."
"You shall have it. I warn you, that I tore the mask from one of the
bandits who attacked us, and recognised him."
"I am at a loss to understand," said Don Torribio.
"Oh! You do not understand, señor! It is the answer I expected.
I suppose, likewise, you do not know the name of the person who
accompanied me, and on whom the _vaqueros_ fell with such indescribable
fury?"
"I am perfectly ignorant as to who he was," said Don Torribio, quite
unmoved.
"Better and better! Learn, then, that it was Don Fernando Carril who
was killed." And he cast a look pregnant with irony at the man standing
beside him.
"Don Fernando Carril!--killed!" exclaimed the latter, stupefied.
Don Estevan smiled disdainfully.
"Listen once more to this," he continued in threatening tones. "If Don
Fernando is not brought to this hacienda within twenty-four hours, I
will reveal to Don Pedro and his daughter the name of his assassin. I
think you understand me this time?" And, overcome with grief, he sank
half fainting on his couch.
Don Torribio remained a moment, annihilated with the words he had
heard; but, immediately recovering his presence of mind, he quickly
left the hacienda, and galloped into the plains, muttering as he rode:
"The Tigercat was right: there is nothing left for me but to seek the
Barranca del Fraile."