THE BLANK SIGNATURE.
On the morrow, Mexico awoke to a holiday; nothing extraordinary, in
a country where the year is a perpetual holiday, and where the most
frivolous pretext suffices for letting off _cohetes_, that supreme
amusement of the Mexicans.
This time the affair was serious, for the inhabitants wished to
celebrate in a proper manner the anniversary of the Proclamation of
Independence, of which the day to which we allude was the eve.
At sunrise a formidable _bando_ issued from the government palace, and
went through all the streets and squares of the city, announcing with
a mighty clamour of bugles and drums, that on the next day there would
be a bull fight with "Jamaica" and "Monte Parnasso" for the leperos,
high mass celebrated in all the churches, theatres thrown open gratis,
a review of the garrison, and of all the troops quartered sixty miles
round, and fireworks and illuminations at night, with open air balls and
feria.
The government did things nobly, it must be confessed; hence the people
issued from their houses, spread feverishly through the streets at an
early hour, laughing, shouting, and letting off squibs, while singing
the praises of the President of the Republic, and taking, after their
fashion, something on account of the morrow's festival.
Don Martial, in order to throw out the spies doubtless posted round
Valentine's house, had left his friend in the middle of the night, and
gone to his lodgings, and a few minutes before day proceeded to the
house of Mr. Rallier.
Although the sun was not yet above the horizon, the French gentleman was
already up and conversing with his brother Edward, while waiting for the
Tigrero. Edward was ready to start, and his brother was giving him his
parting recommendations.
"You are welcome," the Frenchman said cordially, on perceiving Don
Martial; "I was busy with our affair. My brother Edward is just off to
our quinta, whither my mother and my brother Auguste proceeded two days
ago, so that we might find all in order on our arrival."
Although the Tigrero did not entirely understand what the banker said to
him, he considered it unnecessary to show it, and hence bowed without
answering.
"All is settled, then," Mr. Rallier continued, addressing his brother;
"get everything ready, for we shall probably arrive before midday--that
is to say, in time for lunch."
"Your country house is not far from the city?" the Tigrero asked, for
the sake of saying something.
"Hardly five miles; it is at St. Angel; but in an excellent position
for defence, in the event of an attack. You are aware that St. Angel
is built on the side of an extinct volcano, and surrounded by lava and
spongy scoria, which renders an approach very difficult."
"I must confess my ignorance of the fact."
"In a country like this, where the government is bound to think of its
own defence before troubling itself about individuals, it is as well to
take one's precautions, and be always perfectly on guard. And now be
off, my dear Edward; your weapons are all right, and two resolute peons
will accompany you; besides, the sun is now rising, and you will have a
pleasant ride; so good-by till we meet again."
The two brothers shook hands, and the young man, after bowing to Don
Martial, left the house, followed by two servants well mounted, and
armed like himself. During this conversation the peons had put the
horses in a close carriage.
"Get in," said Mr. Rallier.
"What!" Don Martial replied, "are we going to drive?"
"By Jove! do you think I would venture to go to the convent on
horseback? Why, we could not go along a street before we were
recognized."
"But this carriage will betray you."
"I admit it; but no one will know whom it contains when the shutters are
drawn up, which I shall be careful to do before leaving the house. Come,
get in."
The Tigrero placed himself by the Frenchman's side; the latter pulled
up the shutters, and started at a gallop in a direction diametrically
opposed to that which it should have followed, in order to reach the
convent.
"Where are we going?" the Tigrero asked presently.
"To the Convent of the Bernardines."
"I fancy we are not going the right road."
"That is possible, but, at any rate, it is the safest."
"I humbly confess that I cannot understand it at all."
Mr. Rallier began laughing.
"My good fellow," he replied, "you will understand at the right time,
so be easy. You need only know, that in acting as I am doing, I am
carrying out to the letter the instructions of Valentine, my friend and
yours. It was not for nothing that he has so long borne the name of the
Trail-hunter; besides, you remember the prairie adage, which has always
appeared to me full of good sense, 'The shortest road from one point to
another is a crooked line.' Well, we are following the crooked line,
that is all. Besides, in all that is about to take place, you must
remain completely out of the question, and restrict yourself to being a
spectator, rather than an actor, and willing to obey me in everything I
may order. Does this part displease you?"
The Frenchman said this with the merry accent and delightful simplicity
which formed the basis of his character, and which caused everybody to
like him whom accident brought in contact with him.
"I have no repugnance to obey you, Señor Don Antonio," the Tigrero
answered. "The confidence our common friend places in you is a sure
guarantee to me of your intentions. Hence dispose of me as you think
proper, without fearing the slightest objection on my part."
"That is the way to talk," the banker said, with a laugh. "Now, to
begin, my dear señor, you will do me the pleasure of changing your
dress, for the one you wear is slightly too worldly for the place to
which we are going."
"Change my dress?" the Tigrero exclaimed. "Diablos! you ought to have
told me so at your house."
"Unnecessary, my dear sir. I have all you require here."
"Here?"
"Well, you shall see," he said, as he took from one of the coach pockets
a Franciscan's gown, while from the other he drew a pair of sandals and
a cord. "Have you not worn this dress before?"
"I have."
"Well, you are going to put it on again, and for the following reasons:
At the convent, people believe (or pretend to believe, which comes to
the same thing) that you are a Franciscan monk. For the sake, then, of
persons who are not in the secret, it is necessary that I should be
accompanied by a monk, and more, that they may be able, if required, to
take their oaths to the fact."
"I obey you. But will not your coachman be surprised at seeing a
Franciscan emerge from the carriage into which he showed a caballero?"
"My coachman? Pardon me, but I do not think you looked at him?"
"Indeed, I did not. All these Indians are alike, and equally hideous."
"That is true; however, look at him."
Don Martial bent forward, and slightly lowered the shutter.
"Curumilla!" he cried, in amazement, as he drew back. "He, and so well
disguised?"
"Do you now believe that he will be surprised?"
"I was wrong."
"No, but you do not take the trouble to reflect."
"Well, I will put on the gown since I must. Still, with your permission,
I will keep my weapons under it."
"Caspita! my permission? On the contrary, I order you to do so. But what
are they?"
"You shall see. A machete, a knife, and a pair of pistols."
"That is first-rate. If necessary, I shall be able to find you a rifle.
Trust to me for that."
While talking thus, the Tigrero had changed his dress; that is to say,
he had simply put the gown over his other clothes, fastened the rope
round his body, and substituted the sandals for his boots.
"There," the Frenchman continued, "you are a perfect monk."
"No; I want something more, something which is even indispensable."
"What's that?"
"The hat."
"That's true."
"That part of my costume I hardly know how we shall obtain."
"Man of little faith!" the Frenchman said with a smile, "see, and be
confounded!"
While speaking thus he raised the front cushion, opened the box it
covered, and pulled out the hat of a monk of St. Francis, which he gave
the Tigrero.
"And now do you want anything else, pray?" he asked, mockingly.
"Indeed, no. Why, your carriage is a perfect locomotive shop!"
"Yes, it contains a little of everything. But we have arrived," he
added, seeing the carriage stop. "You remember that you must in no way
make yourself prominent, and simply confine yourself to doing what I
tell you. That is settled, I think?"
The Frenchman opened the door, for the carriage had really stopped
in front of the Convent of the Bernardines. Two or three ill-looking
fellows were prowling about: and, in spite of their affected
indifference, it was easy to recognize them for spies. The Frenchman and
his companion were not deceived. They got out with an indifference as
well assumed as that of the spies, and approached the door slowly, which
was opened at their first knock, and closed again behind them with a
speed that proved the slight confidence the sister porter placed in the
individuals left outside.
"What do you desire, señores?" she asked, politely, after curtseying to
the newcomers with a smile of recognition.
"My dear sister," the Frenchman answered, "be good enough to inform
the holy mother abbess of our visit, and ask her to favour us with an
interview for a few moments."
"It is still very early, brother," the nun answered, "and I do not know
if holy mother can receive you at this moment."
"Merely mention my name to her, sister, and I feel convinced that she
will make no difficulty about receiving us."
"I doubt it, brother, for, as I said before, it is very early. Still, I
am willing to tell her, in order to prove to you my readiness to serve
you."
"I feel deeply grateful to you for the kindness, sister."
The sister then left the parlour, after begging the two gentlemen to
wait a moment. During her absence the Frenchman and his companion did
not exchange a syllable; however, this absence was short, and only
lasted a few minutes.
Without speaking, the sister made the visitors a sign to follow her,
and led them to the parlour where we have already taken the reader, and
where the abbess was waiting for them.
The Mother Superior was pale, and seemed anxious and preoccupied. She
invited the two gentlemen to sit down, and waited silently till they
addressed her. They, on their side, seemed to be waiting for her to
inquire the nature of their visit; but, as she did not do so, and this
silence threatened to be prolonged for some time, Mr. Rallier resolved
on breaking it.
"I had the honour, madam," he said, with a respectful bow, "to send you
yesterday, by one of my servants, a letter, in which I informed you of
this morning's visit."
"Yes, caballero," she at once, answered, "I duly received this letter,
and your sister Helena is ready to go away with you, whenever you
express the wish. Still permit me to make one request of you."
"Speak, madam, and if I can be of any service to you, believe me, that I
shall eagerly seize the opportunity."
"I know not, caballero, how to explain myself, for what I have to say
to you is really so strange that I fear lest it should call up a smile
to your lips. Although Doña Helena has only been a few months in our
convent, she has made herself so beloved by all her companions, through
her charming character, that her departure is an occasion of mourning
for all of us."
"You render me very happy and very proud by speaking thus of my sister,
madam."
"This praise is only the expression of the strictest truth, caballero.
We are all really most grieved to see her leave us thus. Still, I should
not have ventured thus to make myself the interpreter of our regrets,
were there not a very strong reason that renders it almost a duty to
speak to you."
"I am listening to you, madam, though I can guess beforehand what you
are going to say to me."
She looked at him in surprise.
"You guess! Oh, it is impossible, señor," she exclaimed.
The Frenchman smiled.
"My sister, Doña Helena, as is generally the case in convents, has
chosen one of her companions, whom she loves more than the others, and
made her her intimate friend. Is such the case, madam?"
"How do you know it?"
He continued; with a smile--
"Now, this young lady, so beloved not only by Helena but by you,
madam, and all your community, is a gentle, kind, loving girl, who, in
consequence of a great misfortune, became insane, but whom your tender
care has restored to reason. Still, you keep the latter fact a profound
secret, before all from her guardian, who, not contented with having
stripped her of her fortune, now insists of robbing her of her happiness
by forcing her to marry him."
"Señor, señor," the abbess exclaimed, as she rose from her seat, with
an astonishment blended with terror, "who are you that you know so many
things of which I believed the whole world ignorant?"
"Who am I, madam? the brother of Helena, that is to say, a man in whom
you can place the most entire confidence. Hence permit me to proceed."
The abbess, still suffering from extreme agitation, sat down again.
"Go on, caballero," she said.
"The guardian of Doña Anita, either that he has suspicion, or for some
other motive, wrote to you yesterday, ordering you to prepare her to
marry him within twenty-four hours. Since the receipt of this fatal
letter, Doña Anita has been plunged in the deepest despair, a despair
further heightened by the sudden departure of my sister, the only friend
in whose arms she can safely reveal her heart's secrets. But you,
madam, who are so holy and good, are aware that God can at his pleasure
confound the projects of the wicked, and change wormwood into honey. Did
you not receive a visit yesterday from Don Serapio de la Ronda?"
"Yes, that gentleman deigned to visit me a few moments before I
received the fatal letter to which you have referred."
"Did not Don Serapio, on leaving you, say these words: 'Be kind enough
to inform Doña Anita that a friend is watching over her; that this
friend has already given her unequivocal proofs of the interest he
takes in her happiness, and that, on the day when she again sees the
Franciscan monk, to whom she confessed once before, all her misfortunes
will be ended?'"
"Yes, Don Serapio did utter those words."
"Well, madam, I am sent to you, not only by him, but by another person,
who is no less than the President of the Republic, not only to take away
my sister but also to ask you to deliver up to me Doña Anita, who will
accompany her."
"Heaven is my witness, señor, that I would be delighted to do what you
ask of me. Unhappily, it is not in my power; Doña Anita was entrusted
to me by her sole relation, who is at the same time her guardian, and
though he is unworthy of that title, and my heart bleeds in refusing
you, it is to him alone that I am bound to deliver her."
"This objection, madam, the justice of which I fully appreciate, has
been foreseen by the persons whose representative I am. Hence they
consulted on the means to remove the scruples by entirely releasing you
from responsibility. Father, give this lady the paper, of which you are
the bearer."
Without uttering a word, Don Martial took from his pocket the blank
signature Valentine had entrusted to him, and handed it to the abbess.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Madam," the Frenchman answered, "that paper is a blank signature of the
President of the Republic, who orders you to deliver Doña Anita into my
hands."
"I see it," she said, sorrowfully; "unfortunately this blank signature,
which would everywhere else have the strength of the law, is powerless
here. We only indirectly depend on the temporal power, but are
completely subjugated to the spiritual power, and we can only receive
orders from it."
The Tigrero took a side glance, full of despair, at his companion, whose
face was still smiling.
"What would you require, madam," he continued, "in order to consent to
give up this unhappy young lady to me?"
"Alas, señor, it is not I who refuse compliance. Heaven is my witness
that it is my greatest desire to see her escape from her persecutor."
"I am thoroughly convinced of that, madam; that is why, feeling
persuaded of your good feeling towards your charge, I ask you to tell me
what authority you require in order to give her up to me."
"I cannot, señor, allow Doña Anita to quit this convent without a
perfectly regular order, signed by Monseigneur the Archbishop of Mexico,
who alone has the right to command here, and whom I am compelled to
obey."
"And if I had that order, madam, all your scruples would be removed?"
"Yes, all, señor."
"You would have no further difficulty in allowing Doña Anita to depart?"
"I would deliver her to you at once, señor."
"Since that is the case, madam, I will ask you to do so, for I have
brought you that order."
"You have it?" she said, with undisguised delight.
"Here it is," he answered, as he took a paper from his pocketbook, and
handed it to her.
She opened it at once, and eagerly perused it.
"Oh now," she continued, "Doña Anita is free, and I will----"
"One moment, madam," he interrupted her, "have you carefully read the
order I had the honour of giving you?"
"Yes, sir."
"In that case be kind enough to allow the young ladies to put on secular
clothing, and, as their departure must be kept secret, allow my carriage
to enter the front courtyard. I fancied I saw ill-looking fellows
prowling about the neighbourhood, who looked to me like spies."
"What must I say, though, to the young lady's guardian? I am going to
see him today."
"I am aware of that, madam. Gain time; tell him that his ward is
ill; that you have succeeded in gaining her consent to the projected
marriage, but, on the condition that it be deferred for eight and forty
hours. It is a falsehood I am suggesting to you, madam, but it is
necessary, and I feel convinced that heaven will pardon it."
"Oh, do not be anxious about that, señor. I will gladly take on myself
the responsibility of this falsehood; Doña Anita's guardian will not
dare to oppose so short a delay, however well inclined he may be to do
so: but in forty-eight hours?"
"In forty-hours, madam," the Frenchman answered in a hollow voice,
"General Guerrero will not come to claim the hand of Doña Anita."