WOMAN'S WILL.
Every extreme situation, as soon as it reaches its culminating point,
must necessarily subside into a reaction of an opposite tendency. This
was exactly what happened after the scene we described in the last
chapter.
Don Torribio, beside himself with joy, could not accept Doña Hermosa's
protestations of love without a certain degree of mistrust. Yet the
improbability of her having taken this decided step from other motives
than the one she professed, had materially aided her in the successful
attempt to hoodwink her admirer.
Intelligence of a high class is often accompanied by a weakness
detrimental to its possessors: they cannot bring themselves to believe,
that those who fawn upon them and flatter their propensities are
sufficiently acute to deceive them. And so it happened in this case.
How could he fail to believe a girl, still almost a child, whose manner
seemed so guileless, whose looks were fraught with love, and who avowed
her affection so frankly?
What could she gain by deceiving him, now Don Fernando was alive? What
object could she have in coming thus to put herself into his hands,
without the possibility of escaping from him?
All this appeared absurd: and was so, in fact, up to a certain point.
It only proved that Don Torribio, preeminently a statesman, endowed
with admirable talent, and whose sole aim through life had been the
accomplishment of his dreams of ambition, was so entirely absorbed in
farfetched political calculations, that he had no time to study that
amalgam of archness, grace, and perfidy we call woman, and knew nothing
about her nature.
A woman South American woman especially--never forgives an injury to
her lover; he is the holy ark which none may touch.
Moreover, we must say, Doña Hermosa was the first, the only love of Don
Torribio. His love was to him a creed, a faith; and all doubt vanished
from before his eyes at the proof she had just given of her affection.
"And now," she said to him, "can I remain in the camp till my father
comes, without risking insult?"
"You have but to command!" he replied: "All here are your slaves."
"The woman, under whose protection I was able to reach you will go back
to the _hacienda_ of Las Norias."
Don Torribio strode to the curtain of the _toldo,_ and clapped his
hands twice.
An Indian warrior appeared.
"Let a _toldo_ be prepared for me; I cede this to the two paleface
women," he said, in the Apache language; "a body of chosen braves, whom
my brother will command, will watch incessantly over their safety. Woe
to him who fails in the profoundest respect! These women are sacred;
free to come and go, and to receive whomsoever they choose. Does my
brother understand?"
The warrior bowed his head without reply.
"Let my brother have two horses ready."
The Indian disappeared.
"You see, señorita," he continued, turning towards her, "you are queen
here."
"I thank you!" said Doña Hermosa, drawing from her bosom an open
letter she had prepared for the occasion; "I felt sure of the result
of my interview with you: you see, I have announced it to my father,
even before I met you. Take this, Don Torribio, and read what I have
written."
She held it out to him with a charming smile, but an inward misgiving.
"Señorita," he replied, motioning the letter away, "what a daughter
writes to her father should be sacred; no one but himself should read
it."
Doña Hermosa folded up the letter, without evincing the least emotion
at the terrible risk she had just run, and gave it to Manuela.
"Mother," she said, "you will give this letter to my father, and
explain to him what I have not been able to write."
"Allow me to retire," exclaimed Don Torribio; "I must not listen to the
instructions you are about to give to your attendant."
"I object," she replied; "I must have no secrets from you; henceforth
you must know all my inmost thoughts."
Don Torribio glowed with delight. Just then they brought the horses.
Doña Hermosa profited by the opportunity afforded by his speaking to
the Apache to say rapidly to Manuela: "Your son must be here in an
hour, if that be possible."
Manuela made a sign of acquiescence, and Don Torribio reentered the
_toldo_.
"I myself will accompany Ña Manuela as far as the defences of the
_presidio_; this will insure her from incurring any danger."
"Thanks, once more," replied Doña Hermosa.
The two women threw themselves into each other's arms, and embraced as
if they were never to meet again.
"Do not forget!" whispered Doña Hermosa.
"Trust in me," replied Manuela.
"This is now your home," said Don Torribio "no one will dare to enter
without your permission."
Doña Hermosa smiled her thanks, and accompanied them to the entrance of
the _toldo_; Manuela and her escort mounted and departed.
The young Mexican followed them with her eyes till the sound of their
horses' feet was lost amid the other noises in the camp, when she
returned to the _toldo_, murmuring: "The first steps are taken: now to
discover his intentions!"
A quarter of an hour later, Manuela and her guide arrived within a
hundred yards of the _pueblo_. They had not exchanged a word.
"You have now no further need of me," said Don Torribio. "Keep the
horse; he may be useful to you. May God preserve you!"
Without another word, he turned his horse, and rode back to the camp,
leaving Manuela alone.
The latter looked about her to discover whereabouts she was, and then
rode resolutely towards the town, which was looming in a dark mass
before her. She had only gone a few paces, when a rude hand seized her
reins, a pistol was presented at her head, and a rough voice exclaimed,
in Spanish:
"Who goes there?"
"Friend," she replied, attempting to conceal her trepidation.
"Mother!" cried a joyful voice.
"Estevan, my darling child," she exclaimed, throwing herself on his
breast, to which she was clasped in the most affectionate embrace.
"How did you come here, and whence?" he asked, after a time.
"From the camp of the redskins."
"Already!" said he, in astonishment.
"Yes; my mistress sends me to you."
"And who was the man with you, mother?"
"Don Torribio himself."
"Malediction!" exclaimed the _mayor domo_; "I have let him escape, when
I had covered him for five minutes with my rifle. But we will not stay
here. Come with me. As soon as I have placed you in safety, you shall
relate what your mistress has charged you to communicate to me."
When they got into the _presidio_, Don Estevan made his mother recount
the incidents of their expedition.
"Ah!" said he more than once; "Women are imps of cunning; men are but
fools beside them!"
When Manuela had quite finished her tale, he said: "Mother, there is
not a moment to lose: Don Pedro must get the letter this very night.
The poor father must be in a state of dreadful anxiety."
"I am going to him myself," said Manuela.
"No!" he replied "you have need of rest. I have a man here who will
acquit himself well of this commission."
"As you please, Estevan," said she, giving him the letter.
"Yes, I think this will be the best way. Come into this house; the good
woman to whom it belongs knows me, and will take every care of you."
"Are you going to Doña Hermosa?"
"By Heavens! Do you think I intend to leave the poor girl there, in the
midst of those infidels? Besides, what she has got to say to me may
concern us all narrowly."
"Devoted as ever, Estevan! How like you that is?"
"What can I do, mother?" he replied, with a laugh. "Devotion seems to
be my vocation."
He led his mother into the house, where he confided her to its
mistress, and then went in search of his emissary to Don Pedro de Luna.
Round a bright fire burning in the centre of the street several men
were lying, wrapped in their cloaks. Don Estevan roughly shook one of
the sleepers.
"Wake, Tonillo!" he said; "Get up, _muchacho:_ you must be off for the
Hacienda de las Norias."
"But I only came thence a quarter of an hour ago!" replied the
_lepero_, rubbing his eyes, and still half asleep.
"I know it; and that is the reason why I send you; you ought to know
the road well. Besides, it is for Doña Hermosa's sake."
"For Doña Hermosa's sake!" cried the _lepero_, whom the sound of the
name seemed to awaken thoroughly; "What are her orders?"
"Now you are as you should be," said the _mayor domo._ "Mount directly,
and carry this letter to Don Pedro: to say it is from his daughter, is
to tell you it is of importance."
"Very well; I will go this minute."
"I have no need to tell you that no one must take this paper from you."
"I can see that, _canarios_."
"You will let yourself be killed sooner than give it up?"
"Yes, yes; make yourself easy, _mayor domo_."
"And even after death they must not find it."
"I will sooner eat it; _Rayo de Dios!_" El Zapote was galloping
towards the hacienda a quarter of an hour later.
"It is my turn now," said the _mayor domo_ to himself, as soon as he
was alone; "but how am I to get to Doña Hermosa?"
It seemed as if a little consideration had enlightened him as to the
means, for he banished the frown from his forehead, and gaily took the
road to the fort.
After a conference with Major Barnum, who, since the death of the
governor, had assumed the command of the town, Estevan disguised
himself as an Indian, and went to the camp of the redskins. Shortly
before sunrise he was in the town again.
"Well!" said his mother.
"All is for the best," he replied. "_¡Vive Dios!_ I think Doña Hermosa
will make that incarnate demon pay dearly for kidnapping Don Fernando."
"Am I to rejoin her?"
"No; it is not necessary."
Without entering into any details, Don Estevan who was sinking from
fatigue, retired to snatch a few hours' repose.
Several days passed without the Indians attacking the _pueblo_. They
contented themselves with investing it more closely, without attempting
an assault. Their plan seemed to be to starve out the inhabitants, and
force them to surrender from famine.
The blockade was kept so strictly, that it was impossible for the
besieged to stir beyond their lines: all their communications were cut
off, and provisions began to fail. The cattle which had been collected
at the commencement of the siege had all been killed, and the Mexicans
were now driven to the necessity of consuming the hides.
The plan would doubtless have succeeded; and the Mexicans, reduced to
the last extremity, would soon have been obliged to surrender without
striking a blow; but a project of Don Estevan's, communicated to Major
Barnum, and executed without delay, suddenly defeated the Tigercat's
plans, and obliged him to make the assault, in order to hinder the
revolt of the tribes who followed him. The Mexicans, whom the pangs of
famine were driving to despair, were eagerly longing for the assault.
Don Estevan ordered a hundred and fifty loaves to be made of wheat
saturated with arsenic. These were packed on a few mules, still left
in the fort, in company with twenty-four kegs of brandy mixed with
vitriol. With ten trusty fellows, he escorted this formidable freight
to within a short distance of the redskin intrenchments.
Everything happened as he had foreseen. The Indians, who are
extravagantly fond of brandy, were allured by the sight of the kegs,
and rushed upon the convoy in the hopes of capturing it.
Don Estevan lost no time. Casting loaves and kegs upon the sand, and
retreating at full speed, he brought off his men and mules in the
_pueblo_.
The Indians, dragging their booty into their camp, knocked in the heads
of the barrels, and an orgy commenced which lasted till bread and
brandy had disappeared.
More than a thousand Indians perished through this ingenious device of
the _mayor domo's_[1] the others, smitten with terror, began to disband
in all directions.
The exasperated savages, in their first moments of excitement, and
in spite of the efforts of their leader, ruthlessly massacred under
horrible tortures all the men, women, and children who had fallen into
their power at the commencement of the war, and had been kept prisoners
in the camp up to the time.
Doña Hermosa herself, notwithstanding the respect with which she had
been treated, and the extreme care she took never to leave the _toldo_,
was in great danger of falling a victim to the fury of the Indians.
Chance alone saved her.
The great chief resolved to finish the war at once. He despatched El
Zopilote to order all the _sachems_ to assemble in his _toldo_. As soon
as they arrived, he announced to them that at the _endic'ha_ (daybreak)
on the morrow the _presidio_ would be attacked on all sides at once.
Don Torribio, in his quality of chief, was present at the council. As
soon as it was over he hastened to Doña Hermosa's _toldo_, and demanded
an interview.
Since her arrival in the camp, although the Tigercat was perfectly
aware of all that was going on between her and Don Torribio, he had
purposely avoided meeting her, contenting himself with congratulating
the latter on the affection the girl manifested for him. Nevertheless,
an acute observer might have easily perceived that the Tigercat
harboured some sinister purpose in his mind. Don Torribio, on the
contrary, was too much blinded by his passion to attempt to read the
countenance of the old bandit.
The intensity of his love, and the zest with which he gave himself
up to it, diverted his thoughts from the shame and remorse which
stung him when he thought of the infamy attached to his name by his
treacherous desertion of his own people to become a member of the
ferocious and sanguinary tribes of the Apaches.
Doña Hermosa, on hearing that Don Torribio wished to see her, gave
orders for his instant admittance. She was talking at the time with her
father. Don Pedro de Luna had hastened to join his daughter the instant
he received her letter, and had already been some days in the camp.
The interior of the _toldo_ was greatly changed. Don Torribio had
ordered it to be embellished with divers pieces of elegant furniture,
stolen by the Indians from different haciendas. Partitions had been
constructed, closets contrived, so that the metamorphosis was complete;
and, although the exterior remained as it had been before, the inside,
in consequence of the alterations, assumed the appearance of a European
residence.
Manuela, Doña Hermosa's nurse, had also returned with Don Pedro--a
circumstance extremely agreeable to the girl; first, on account of the
great confidence she reposed in her; and again, because Manuela was
indispensable for all those little services and attentions to which
women of rank are accustomed. Besides, the presence of the nurse, who
never left Doña Hermosa's side in her interviews with Don Torribio,
prevented any exuberant outbreak of passion on his part, and confined
him to the limits of a respectful decorum.
Whatever astonishment the redskins might have felt at the alterations
in the _toldo_ undertaken by Don Torribio, the veneration and devotion
they professed for the Tigercat were so great, that, with the delicacy
which seems innate in their race, they pretended to see none of them,
especially as the latter had taken no offence at the conduct of the
paleface chief. Moreover, as, under all circumstances, the latter
rendered them energetic cooperation, being always the foremost in
battle and the last to retreat, they thought it right to leave him
to arrange his own affairs as he judged best, without any attempt to
oppose him.
"Well," said Doña Hermosa, when he entered, "has the Tigercat succeeded
in subduing the exasperation of the tribes?"
"Thank Heaven! He has, señorita; but the atrocious crime committed by
Major Barnum is unworthy of a man, and more the deed of a savage brute
than of a civilized being."
"Perhaps the major is not the author of the crime."
"The whites are accustomed to treat the Indians thus. Have I not heard
them assert a thousand times that the redskins are not human beings?
All weapons that kill them are lawful, and poison is one of the surest.
This crime alone is sufficient to justify me in having quitted the
ranks of the monsters."
"Speak no more on this subject, I beseech you; you make me shudder.
I am obliged to confess that reason is on your side. When we witness
such horrors, we begin to regret that we belong to a race capable of
inventing them."
"What is the decision of the council?" asked Don Pedro, in order to
turn the conversation.
"Tomorrow, at daybreak, a general assault will be delivered on the
_presidio_."
"Tomorrow!" exclaimed Doña Hermosa, in a fright.
"Yes," he replied; "tomorrow I hope to revenge myself on those who were
my brothers, and have forced me to repudiate them. Tomorrow I shall
conquer or die."
"God protect the good cause!" said she ambiguously.
"Thanks, cousin," replied Don Torribio, mistaking the meaning of her
exclamation.
Don Pedro with difficulty repressed a sigh.
"The action tomorrow will be severe," Don Torribio continued. "I
conjure you, señorita, not to leave the _toldo_. Should we meet with a
reverse, no one can tell to what extremes the rage of the Apaches may
carry them. I will leave twenty resolute men, _vaqueros_ on whom I can
rely, to defend you. As soon as the affair is over, I will send you
word."
"Are you going already, Don Torribio?" said she, as she saw him move
for the purpose.
"I must, señorita; I am one of the chiefs of the Indian army. In that
quality, I have duties to fulfil, and must make preparations for the
morrow. I entreat you to let me go."
"Farewell, then, if it must be so."
Bowing respectfully to her and her father, Don Torribio retired.
"All is lost," said Don Pedro; "the Mexicans will never be able to
withstand the assault."
Doña Hermosa looked at him with a strange expression, and then
whispered in his ear:
"Father, have you read your Bible?"
"Why do you ask, little madcap?"
"Because," said she, with a coaxing smile, "you seem to have forgotten
the story of Delilah."
"What!" he exclaimed, more astonished than ever; "Do you intend to cut
off his hair?"
"_¿Quién sabe?_" she answered, shaking her head knowingly, and with a
delicious assumption of bravado; while at the same time she put one of
her fingers on her rosy lips.
Don Pedro gave the shrug of a man who is utterly at a loss to
understand, and who gives up an inexplicable enigma.
[1] A fact. An identical occurrence took place at the Carmen of
Patagonia, daring an attack by the Indians.