THE CHALLENGE.
The Tacon Theatre is one of the largest in the world, and is situated
in the Paseo, just outside the city walls. You enter the parquet and
first row of boxes from the level of the street, and above this are
four ranges of boxes, besides seats in the parquet for six hundred
persons. The gildings are elaborate and beautiful, and the frescoes are
done by the first Italian artists; the whole being brilliantly lighted
by an immense chandelier in the centre, and lesser ones pendant from
the half moon of boxes, and supplied with gas. It is a superb
establishment, and when it is filled with the beauty and fashion of the
city, it is a brilliant sight indeed.
It is nearly a month subsequent to the scene that closed the last
chapter of our story, that we would carry the reader with us within the
brilliantly lighted walls of the Tacon Theatre. How lively and gay is
the prospect that presents itself to the eye-the glittering jewelry and
diamonds of the fair senor’s and senoritas, casting back the brilliant
light, and rivalled in lustre by the sparkle of a thousand eyes of jet.
The gilded and jewelled fans rustle audibly (what would a Spanish or
Creole lady do without a fan?)-the orchestra dashes off in a gay and
thrilling overture, intermingled by the voices, here and there, of
merry groups of the audience, while the stately figures of the soldiers
on duty are seen, with their many-colored dresses and caps, amid the
throng and at the rear of the boxes.
In a centre box of the first tier sits Senorita Isabella Gonzales, with
her father, brother, General Harero, and a party of friends. All eyes
are turned towards the peerless beauty-those of the ladies with envy at
her extraordinary charms of person, and those of the young cavaliers
and gentlemen with undisguised admiration at the picture of loveliness
which met their eyes. Isabella herself sat with an easy and graceful
air of unconsciousness, bowing low to the meaningless compliments and
remarks of General Harero, and now smiling at some pleasantry of Ruez
who was close to her side, and now again regarding for a moment the
tall, manly figure of an officer near the proscenium box, who was on
duty there, and evidently the officer of the evening. This may sound
odd to a republican, but no assembly, no matter how unimportant, is
permitted, except under the immediate eye and supervision of the
military.
“There is Captain Bezan,” said Ruez, with undisguised pleasure,
pointing towards the proscenium box where the young officer stood.
“Yes, I see him, Ruez,” replied Isabella, “and it is the first time he
has been out on duty, I think, since his dangerous and protracted
illness.”
“I know it is the first time,” said the boy, “and I don’t think he’s
hardly able to be out now. How very pale he is looking, Isabella.”
“Do you think he’s very pale, Ruez?” she asked, turning towards the
soldier, whose arm and sword were now outstretched, indicating some
movement to a file of soldiers on the other side.
“He’s too ill, I should think, to be out in the night air.”
“One would certainly think so,” answered Isabella.
“His company was ordered out to-night,” said Ruez, “and though the
surgeon told him to remain in, he said he must be with his command.”
“You seem to know his business almost as well as himself, Master Ruez,”
said General Harero, who had overheard the remarks relating to Captain
Bezan.
“The captain and I are great friends, famous friends,” replied Ruez,
instantly. “He’s a noble fellow, and just my idea of what a soldier
should be. Don’t you think him a fine soldier, General Harero?” asked
the boy, most frankly.
“Humph!” ejaculated the general, “why, yes, he’s good enough for aught
I know, professionally. Not quite rough and tough enough for a thorough
bred one, I think,” was the reply of his superior, who was plainly
watching Isabella Gonzales’s eyes while he spoke to the boy, and who
was anything but pleased to see how often she glanced at Captain Bezan.
“I don’t know what you may mean by rough and tough, general,” said
Ruez, with evident feeling evinced in his voice; “but I know, very
well, that Captain Bezan is as brave as a lion, and I don’t believe
there is a man in your service who can swim with such weight as he can
do.”
“May be not,” replied the general, with assumed indifference.
“Then why say that he’s not rough and tough? that means something,”
continued the boy, with not a little pertinacity in defence of his new
friend.
“There’s some difference, let me tell you, Master Ruez, between facing
an enemy with blazing gunpowder before your eyes, and merely swimming a
while in cold water.”
“The very wounds that came so near proving fatal to Captain Bezan,
prove that he can fight, general, as well as swim,” said Ruez, rather
smartly, in reply, while Isabella Gonzales glanced at her brother with
evident tokens of satisfaction in her face.
“You are enthusiastic in your friend’s behalf,” said General Harero,
coldly.
“And well I may be, since I not only owe him my own life, but that of
my dear sister and father,” continued Ruez, quite equal to the
general’s remark in any instance.
“Certainly, you are right, Master Ruez,” said General Harero, biting
his lips, as he saw that Isabella was regarding him with more than
ordinary attention.
In the meantime Lorenzo Bezan remained, as in duty bound, at his post,
while many an admiring eye was resting upon his fine figure and martial
bearing. He was quite unconscious of being the subject of such
particular remark and criticism within the bearing of her he so nearly
worshipped-the beautiful Isabella Gonzales. Though his heart was with
her every moment, and his thoughts were never off the box, even where
she sat, yet it was only now and then that he permitted himself to turn
his eyes, as though by accident, towards Don Gonzales and his daughter.
He seemed to feel that General Harero was particularly regarding him,
and he strove to be less thoughtful of Isabella, and if possible, more
observant of his regular duty. It is the duty of the officer of the
night for the occasion, to fill the post during the performance, where
the young officer now stood, as it commanded a view of the entire
house, and was the point, where, by an order from him, he could at once
summon a much larger force under arms than that which under ordinary
circumstances was required. Each division of the guard was set from
this point, therefore Captain Bezan, as was his custom, remained here
during the performance.
“It must be very tedious to stay thus standing just there,” remarked
Ruez, pointing to Captain Bezan, and speaking to Isabella.
“I should think so,” was the reply of his sister, who had often turned
that way, to the no small annoyance of the observant General Harero.
“A soldier’s duty,” replied the general, “should content him with his
post.”
It was nearly the middle of the evening’s entertainment, when turning
his eyes towards the box occupied by Don Gonzales and his party,
Captain Bezan caught the eye of Isabella Gonzales, and at the same time
observed distinctly the peculiar wave of the fan, with which a Spanish
lady invites in a friendly manner the approach of a friend of the
opposite sex. He could not be mistaken, and yet was it possible that
the belle of all that proud assemblage deigned openly to notice and
compliment him thus in public? Impelled by the ardor of his love, and
the hope that he had rightly construed the signal, he approached the
box from the rear, and stepping to its back, gave some indication to
one of his orderlies sufficiently loud in tone to cause Isabella and
her father to turn their heads, as they at once recognized the voice of
the young officer.
“Ah! Captain Bezan,” said Don Gonzales, heartily, as he caught the
young officer’s eye, “glad to see you once more with epaulets on-upon
my soul I am.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the soldier, first saluting in due form his
superior, and then bowing low and gracefully to Isabella Gonzales, who
honored him with a gracious smile.
“You are looking comparatively well, captain,” said Don Gonzales,
kindly.
“O yes, sir, I am as well as ever, now,” replied the officer,
cheerfully.
Ruez Gonzales loved Lorenzo Bezan like a brother; first, because he had
so materially served him at imminent peril of his own life, and
secondly, because he saw in him just such traits of character as
attracted his young heart, and aroused it to a spirit of emulation.
With the privilege of boyhood, therefore, he sprang over the seats,
half upsetting General Harero to get at the young officer’s side,
which, having accomplished, he seized his hand familiarly. General
Harero frowned at this familiarity, and his face grew doubly dark and
frowning, as he saw now how closely Isabella was observing the young
officer all the while.
“I trust you find yourself quite recovered, captain, from your severe
illness,” said Isabella, reaching by her father, as she addressed
Lorenzo Bezan kindly.
“I am quite recovered, lady; better, if possible, than before,” he
replied, respectfully. “Master Ruez has been a constant nurse to me,
thoughtful and kind,” he continued, as he looked down upon the boy’s
handsome features with real affection lighting up his own pale face.
Ruez only drew the closer to his side at these words, while his father,
Don Gonzales, watched both the soldier and his boy with much interest
for a moment, then turning to General Harero, he made some earnest and
complimentary remark, evidently referring to Captain Bezan, though
uttered in a low tone of voice, which seemed to increase the cloud on
the general’s brow.
But the young soldier was too much interested in gazing upon the lovely
features of Isabella, to notice this; he seemed almost entranced by the
tender vision of beauty that was before him. At the same moment some
slight disturbance occurred in a distant part of the extensive
building, which afforded a chance for General Harero to turn quickly to
the young soldier, and in a sharp tone say:
“Your duty calls you hence, sir!”
For it moment the blood mantled to the officer’s face at the tone of
this remark, but suppressing his feelings, whatever they might be, with
a respectful acknowledgement of the order, Lorenzo Bezan hastened to
the quarter from whence the noise had come, and by at simple direction
obviated their trouble immediately. But he remembered the bitter and
insulting air of his superior, and it cut him to the quick, the more
keenly too as having been given in the presence of Isabella Gonzales.
As he returned from this trifling duty, he necessarily again passed the
box where were Don Gonzales, amid his party, and seeing Ruez standing
there awaiting his return, he again paused for a moment to exchange at
word with the boy, and once more received a pleasant greeting from
Isabella and her father. At this but reasonable conduct, General Harero
seemed nettled and angry beyond all control, and turning once more
towards Lorenzo Bezan, with a face black with suppressed rage, said:
“It strikes me, sir, that Captain Bezan would consult his own interest,
and be best performing his ordinary duty by maintaining his post at the
proscenium!”
“I proposed to return there immediately, General Harero, and stopped
here but for one moment,” said the young officer, with a burning cheek,
at the intended insult.
“Shall I put my words in the form of an order?” continued General
Harero, seeing that Bezan paused to assist Ruez once more over the
seats to his position in the box.
“It is not necessary, general,” replied the officer, biting his lips
with vexation.
“I declare, general,” said Isabella, unable longer to remain quiet at
his repeated insults to the young officer, “you soldiers are so very
peremptory, that you half disconcert me.”
“It is sometimes necessary,” was the quick and stern reply, “to be
prompt with young and headstrong officers who do not well understand
their duty, or rather, I may say, who knowing their duty, fail to
perform it,” emphasizing the last part of the sentence.
This was intended not only for the lady’s ear, but also for that of
Lorenzo Bezan, who barely succeeded in commanding his feelings for the
moment, so far as to turn silently away to return to his post of
observation. The effect of the scene was not lost upon the
high-spirited beauty. Isabella had marked well the words and tone of
voice with which General Harero spoke, and she saw, too, the effect of
his words upon the free, manly spirit of the young soldier, and from
that moment, either intentionally, or by accident, she paid no further
attention during the whole evening to General Harero, neither turning
towards him, nor even speaking to him at all.
The general, of course, observed this particularly, desiring as he did
to stand in the best possible light as it regarded Isabella’s favor,
and imputing her conduct to the presence of Captain Bezan, and the
conversation that had taken place relative to his duty between Captain
Bezan and himself; he hated the young officer more than ever, as being
in some degree the cause of preventing the consummation of his hopes as
it regarded the favor of the lady. He had long cherished a regard for
the beautiful daughter of Don Gonzales, for her personal charms, as
well as the rich coffers which her father could boast. As the reader
has already surmised, he had been a constant and ardent, though
unsuccessful suitor, for no inconsiderable period. It will not,
therefore, be wondered at, that he should have felt very sensitive upon
this point. As he passed Lorenzo Bezan, therefore, at the close of the
performance, in going out of the theatre that night, while still in the
most immediate proximity to Isabella Gonzales, her father, and the
party with them, he took occasion to speak very loud, and in the most
peremptory manner to him, saying:
“I find you exceedingly lax, Captain Bezan, as it regards the exercise
of your duty and command. You will report yourself to me, after morning
parade, for such orders as shall be deemed proper for you under the
circumstances, as a public reproof for dereliction from duty.”
“Yes, general,” replied the young officer, with the usual salute to his
superior.
Still curbing his feelings, the young officer contented himself with a
kind glance from Isabella Gonzales, who had overheard the last act of
petty tyranny on the general’s part, and for that very reason redoubled
her passing notice and smiles upon Captain Bezan. The officer marched
his company to their barracks, and then sought the silence and quiet of
his own room, to think over the events of the past evening.
His temples burned still with the angry flush that the insult of his
superior officer had produced there, and throwing himself into a chair,
he recalled the whole scene at the theatre, from his answering
Isabella’s friendly signal, until the time when General Harero passed
him at the entrance, and for the last time reproved him.
He weighed the cause of these repeated attacks upon him by his
superior, and could at once divine the cause of them. That was obvious
to his mind at the first glance. He could not but perceive the strong
preference that General Harero evinced for Isabella Gonzales, nor could
he disguise the fact to his own heart that she cared not a farthing for
him. It required but a very simple capacity to understand this; any
party, not interested in the general’s favor, could easily discern it.
But the general counted upon his high rank, and also upon the fact that
his family was a good one, though his purse was not very long.
Lorenzo Bezan remembered not alone the annoyance of that evening. He
had not yet forgotten the insult from the general in the Paseo, and
coupling that with other events, he saw very well that his commanding
officer was decidedly jealous of him. He saw, too, that there was not
any chance of matters growing any better, but that on the contrary they
must continue to grow worse and worse, since be had determined, come
what might, he should pursue his love with the fair lady Isabella.
Could he bear to be insulted thus at every turn by such a man as
General Harero? No! He felt himself, in courage, intellectual
endowments, birth, ay, everything but the rank of a soldier, to be more
than his equal. His heart beat quickly when he recollected that the
latter taunt and threat had been given in the presence of Don Gonzales
and his daughter. The malignity, the unfairness of this attack upon him
at this time, was shameful, and deserved to be punished. Brooding upon
these things alone and at a late hour of the night, he at last wrought
himself up to such a point, perhaps in some degree aggravated by his
late wounds, which were hardly yet healed, that he determined he would
challenge General Harero to martial and mortal conflict.
True this was preposterous in one of his rank, as contending against
another so vastly his superior in position and influence; but his
feelings had begun to assume an uncontrollable character; he could not
bear to think that he had been thus insulted before Isabella Gonzales.
It seemed to him that she would think less of him if he did not resent
and punish such an insult. In the heat of his resentment, therefore, he
sat down and wrote to his superior as follows:
“GENERAL HARERO: Sir-Having received, at different periods and under
peculiar circumstances, insults from you that neither become me as a
gentleman tamely to submit to, nor you as a soldier to give, I do
hereby demand satisfaction. It would be worse than folly in me to
pretend that I do not understand the incentive that governs you-the
actuating motive that has led to these attacks upon me. In my duty as
an officer I have never failed in the least; this you know very well,
and have even allowed before now, to my very face. Your attacks upon me
are, therefore, plainly traceable to a spirit of jealousy as to my
better success with the Senorita Gonzales than yourself. Unless I
greatly mistake, the lady herself has discovered this spirit within
your breast.
“Now, sir, the object of this note is to demand of you to lay aside the
station you hold, and to forget our relative ranks as officers in the
Spanish army, and to meet me on the platform of our individual
characters as gentlemen, and render me that satisfaction for the insult
which you have placed upon me, which I have a right to demand. A line
from you and a friend can easily settle this business. LORENZO BEZAN.”
This note was carefully sealed and addressed, and so despatched as to
reach its destination early on the following morning. It was a most
unfortunate epistle for Captain Bezan, and could the young officer have
calmly considered the subject, he would never have been so imprudent as
to send it to his superior. So long as he bore the petty annoyances of
General Harero without murmuring he was strong, that the step he had
now taken greatly weakened his cause and position. Perhaps he partly
realized this as he sent the note away on the subsequent morning; but
he felt too much pride to relent, and so only braced himself to meet
the result.
The note gave General Harero what he wanted, and placed Captain Bezan
completely at his mercy. It gave him the opportunity to do that which
he most desired, viz., to arrest and imprison the young officer.
Consulting with the governor general, merely by way of strengthening
himself, he took his opinion upon the subject before he made any open
movement in the premises. This was a wary step, and served in some
degree to rob the case of any appearance of personality that it might
otherwise have worn to Tacon’s eye.
As it was, the wary old soldier felt some degree of suspicion in the
matter, as was evident by his remarks to the general, who brought the
charge. It did not seem very natural that one who had just experienced
such favor and promotion should so early be guilty of at breach of
discipline. He was accustomed to judge of men and matters with care,
and judiciously, and for this reason he now rested his head upon his
hand for a moment, upon the table by his side, and after a pause of
some minutes thus passed in silence, during which he had considered the
verbal charge brought against Lorenzo Bezan by his commanding officer,
he once more cast a searching glance upon General Harero. He had never
detected him in any small or unfair business, but he had suspected him
of being capable of such things.
“Is this not the young man whom I have lately promoted for gallantry?”
asked the governor-general.
“Excellency, yes.”
“It is strange that he should be guilty of such insubordination.”
“Very strange, excellency.”
“You know not the reason that has induced this conduct?”
“No—that is—” continued General Harero, as he saw Tacon’s piercing eye
bent upon him, “I can easily presume.”
“Have you the letter of challenge that Captain Bezan sent?”
“Excellency, yes.”
“I will see it.”
“Excellency, at your pleasure,” said the general, hoping not to have
been obliged to show this document.
“Now, if you please, general.”
“At once, excellency.”
General Harero produced the letter, and handed it with something very
like a blush tinging his sunburnt check, to his commander-in-chief.
Tacon read it slowly, pausing now and then to re-read a line, and then,
remarked, as he slowly folded it up once more:
“A love affair.”
“Why, your excellency will easily understand that the young officer has
dared to lift his eyes to one above his rank, and she cares nothing for
him. His causes for complaint are all imaginary.”
“Well, be this as it may, in that I shall not interfere. He has been
guilty of a serious breach of discipline and must suffer for it. You
may take the necessary steps at once in the matter, general.”
“Excellency, yes,” said General Harero, hastening away with secret
delight, and at once taking such measures as should carry out his own
wishes and purposes.
The result of the matter was, that before ten o’clock that morning the
note conveying the challenge was answered by an aid-de-camp and a file
of soldiers, who arrested Captain Bezan for insubordination, and
quietly conducted him to the damp underground cells of the military
prison, where he was left to consider the new position in which he
found himself, solitary and alone, with a straw bed, and no convenience
or comfort about him. And it is not surprising that such a situation
should have been particularly suggestive to a mind so active as that of
Lorenzo Bezan.