DON ESTEVAN DIAZ.
For some little time the two men stood thus face to face, looking at
each other with the dogged resolution of two duellists who are watching
an opportunity to close.
The eyes of Don Estevan, whose face was in other respects impassive,
betrayed a sorrow which he could not dissemble.
Don Fernando, with folded arms, his head erect, his forehead frowning,
and his lips livid with the fury that boiled within him, waited for the
words that were to fall from Don Estevan's mouth, in order to decide
whether he should attack him at once, or pretend to be satisfied with
the excuses the latter would probably utter.
By degrees the darkness had become less palpable: the sky decked itself
in iris colours, the horizon grew red, the sun, although not yet
visible, gave tokens that it would not be long ere he rose, to replace
with floods of dazzling light the pale rays of the few stars still
visible in the profound blue of heaven.
A thousand pungent odours rose from the earth; and the morning breeze,
passing over the foliage of the trees, made it tremble and murmur,
while it twisted the mists hanging over the river into the most
fantastic folds.
At length Don Estevan, to whom the pause was becoming as embarrassing
as it was to the other, determined to break the silence.
"I will be frank with you, _caballero_," said he. "I heard everything
that passed in your conversation with the Tigercat; not a word escaped
me. This will show you that I know all, and am aware that Don Fernando
Carril and Stoneheart are one and the same person."
"Yes," said the Mexican, bitterly, "I see you are an excellent spy. You
have chosen a sorry trade, _caballero._"
"Who can tell? Perhaps, before we have finished our conversation, you
may be of a different opinion, señor."
"I doubt it. But allow me to remark, that you have a singular mode of
showing hospitality towards the guests God sends you."
"Let me explain first; then, after you have heard what I have to tell
you, I shall be ready, _caballero_, to give you the satisfaction you
demand--if you still insist on it."
"Speak, then; and let us finish this somehow or other," replied
Don Fernando impatiently. "The sun has already risen; I hear them
moving and talking in the _rancho;_ the people will soon make their
appearance, and hinder, by their presence, any explanation between us."
"You are right; we must settle this; and as I have as little
inclination to be interrupted as you, follow me. What I have to say is
too long to be spoken here."
Don Fernando complied. They entered the corral, and saddled their
horses.
"Now mount and be off," said Don Estevan, as he vaulted into the
saddle; "there is plenty of room for talk in the desert."
The plan proposed was very acceptable to the Mexican, as it gave him
freedom of action, and the means of hurling consummate vengeance at
the head of the _major-domo_, if the latter wished, as he fancied, to
betray him.
It was a splendid morning: a dazzling sun showered down his hot rays in
profusion over the country, making the stones glitter like diamonds;
the birds warbled gaily among the leaves; _vaqueros_ and _peones_ began
to disperse themselves in all directions, urging on to the pasturage
the horses and cattle of the _hacienda;_ the landscape increased in
beauty every moment, and bore a smiling aspect, very different to the
one it wore under the terrors of darkness.
The two men rode on for an hour, when they came to a half-ruined and
uninhabited _rancho_, which, covered with climbing plants, and almost
hidden under their leaves and flowers, offered an excellent refuge
from the heat; for, though the day was still young, the sultriness of
the air was overpowering.
"Let us stop here," said Don Estevan, breaking silence for the first
time since they left his home; "we shall scarcely find a fitter place."
"Stop, if it suits you," said Don Fernando, carelessly; "to me all
places are alike, provided you give me the explanation I demand; only,
let it be short and frank."
"Frank it shall be, I give you my honour; short I cannot say, for I
have a long and sad tale to relate."
"To me? And for what purpose, pray? Must I hear it? Tell me only--"
"Most surely," said Don Estevan, as he dismounted, "what I have to say
will touch you very nearly. You will shortly see the proof."
Don Fernando shrugged his shoulders, and alighted in his turn.
"You are mad, _Dios me libre_," (God forgive me), said he. "Since
you overheard our conversation so clearly, you must know that I am
a foreigner, and anything that occurs in this country can be but of
slight importance to me."
"_¿Quién sabe?_" (Who can tell?) replied Don Estevan, sententiously,
throwing himself on the floor of the _rancho_ with great content.
Don Fernando followed his example, his curiosity beginning to get the
better of him.
When the two men were comfortably stretched opposite each other, Don
Estevan turned his face to the Mexican:
"I am going to talk of Doña Hermosa," said he of a sudden.
Surprised by these words, the Mexican blushed deeply. He tried in vain
to conceal his emotion.
"Ah!" said he in a stifled voice, "Doña Hermosa! You mean the daughter
of Don Luna?"
"The same. In a word, the very girl you saved a few days ago."
"Why recur to that event? Everyone else in my place would have done the
same."
"It may be so. I do not wish to appear sceptical, but I think you are
mistaken there. However, that is not our question. I say, you saved
Doña Hermosa from a frightful death. At the first impulse, yielding to
your feelings of pride, you left her abruptly, determined to return
to the desert, never again to see the face of her who would have
overwhelmed you with gratitude."
Don Fernando, astonished and galled at finding his feelings so well
understood, briskly interrupted the speaker.
"To our business, if it so please you, _caballero_," he said sharply;
"it is better to begin your explanation at once than launch out into
suppositions which may be very ingenious, but have the one fault of
being erroneous."
"Look, Don Fernando," replied the other, "you will try in vain to
lead me on a false trail; so all denial is useless. You are young and
handsome. Passing your life among savages, you are utterly ignorant
of the great key to human passions. You could not see Doña Hermosa
with impunity. As soon as you saw her, your heart trembled; new ideas
developed themselves; and, forgetting all else, despising every other
consideration, you have retained only one object, one desire,--that of
seeing this girl, who appeared to you as a dream, and brought trouble
into a heart so calm before. You have longed to see her, if only for a
minute--for a second."
"You are right," cried Don Fernando, carried away by the force of
truth; "I feel all you describe. I would joyfully give my life to see
but a corner of her _rebozo_ (veil). But why is it so? I seek in vain
to understand it."
"It is what you would never understand if I did not come to
your aid. A man brought up like you, beyond the pale of social
considerations,--whose life as yet has only been one long strife
with the imperious necessity of each day; who has never employed his
physical powers except in the cares of the chase or the struggles of
war,--your moral faculties lay dormant within you; you were ignorant
of their power. Love brought about the transformation, the effects of
which are now confounding you. You love Doña Hermosa."
"Do you think so?" said he simply. "Is this what is called love? In
that case," he added, speaking more to himself than to Don Estevan,
"its pains are cruel."
The latter looked at him with a mingling of pity and sorrow, and
continued:
"I followed you last night because your actions seemed suspicious, and
a vague fear led me to distrust you. Concealed in a bush only a yard or
two from the spot where you were talking to the Tigercat, I overheard
all you said. I changed my opinion of you; I recognised--forgive me if
I speak frankly--that you were better than report would make you, and
that it would be wrong to take you for such a man as the one you spoke
to. The peremptory manner with which you repulsed his insinuations
proved that you have a heart. Upon that I determined to support you in
the strife for which you are preparing against this man, who has ever
been your evil genius, and whose pernicious influence has so malignly
brooded over your youth. These are the reasons why I have spoken thus;
these the reasons why I brought you here for an explanation. Now, here
is my hand; will you take it? It is that of a friend and brother."
Don Fernando rose, and eagerly seizing the hand so frankly held out to
him, pressed it again and again.
"Thanks," said he; "thanks, and forgive me. Truly I am, as you say, a
savage, taking offence at every trifle. I did not recognise your noble
character."
"Do not say a word on that subject. Listen to me: I do not know whence
my idea springs, but I suspect that the Tigercat is the implacable
enemy of Don Pedro de Luna; his purpose is to make you the instrument
of some devilish attempt upon the family at the _hacienda._"
"It is just what I thought myself," said Don Fernando. "The Tigercat's
strange conduct during the time they were his guests, and the deception
practised upon them, which would have been successful but for my
intervention, roused my suspicions. You yourself heard last night the
obloquy he heaped on me. Let him beware."
"Let us not be too precipitate," said Don Estevan; "we cannot be too
prudent. On the contrary, let us leave the Tigercat to develop his
schemes, that we may check them the more readily."
"That, perhaps, would be the better plan. He is going to San Lucar
shortly: it will be easy to watch all his steps and counteract his
projects. Although this man is subtle, and his cunning and knavery
astute, I swear to God I will be no less wily than he."
"More so, as I shall be in the background to support you, and be at
your side in the hour of need."
"It is Doña Hermosa who must be specially guarded."
"Alas, Don Estevan, how happy you will be in having it in your power to
watch over her hourly."
"Nonsense, my friend; I hope to take you to her in the course of an
hour or two."
"Can such a thing be possible?" cried Don Fernando, rapturously.
"Of course it can; particularly as you ought to be placed on a certain
footing of intimacy with those at the _hacienda_, that we may the
better mislead the Tigercat. Have you forgotten his sarcasms and
insinuations apropos of the love he fancies you feel for the charming
girl,--the love he boasts of having instigated himself, by throwing her
into your way without your suspecting it?"
"True; the man has certainly some hideous project concerning her."
"Be not alarmed; with God's help, we will checkmate him. Now, two words
more. Do you really believe this wretch to be your father? The question
is one of more importance than you imagine."
Don Fernando became restless; his forehead clouded over with thought;
he remained some time in profound meditation. At last he raised his hat
and replied:
"I have often asked myself the question you have propounded without
ever coming to a satisfactory conclusion. Nevertheless, I am almost
certain he is not my father; I cannot be his son. His conduct towards
me, the cruel care with which he inspired me with thoughts of evil,
and developed in me all the bad instincts of nature,--prove to me that,
if any relationship exists between us, it can only be a distant one.
It is not to be imagined that a father could take absolute pleasure in
thus perverting his own son. Nature revolts so utterly against such a
proposition, that the mind cannot accept it. On the other hand, I have
always felt for this man a secret repulsion and invincible dislike
approaching to hatred. This repulsion increased instead of diminishing
with time, a rapture became daily more imminent, and only a pretext was
wanting to bring it about. This pretext has been unconsciously found
by the Tigercat; and now I am hugging myself with joy at finding my
freedom restored, and myself eased of the heavy burden of subjection
which weighed me down so long."
"I am quite of your opinion; the man cannot be your father. We shall
shortly find that we are right in our conviction; and this moral
certainty will allow us to take any measures we please to counteract
and foil his machinations."
"In what way do you intend to introduce me to Doña Hermosa, my friend?"
"I will tell you directly. But first I must relate a long and mournful
tale, requisite for you to know in all its details, lest, in your
intercourse with Don Pedro, you should unwittingly touch upon a wound
still secretly bleeding in his heart. This dark and mysterious affair
happened long ago. I was hardly born at the time of its occurrence;
yet my mother has so often told me the details, that they present
themselves to my memory as if I had been an actor in the terrible
drama. Listen attentively, my good friend. Who knows whether God,
who has inspired me with the wish to tell you the tale, may not have
reserved for you the elucidation of its mysteries."
"Does this tale relate to Doña Hermosa?"
"Indirectly it does. Doña Hermosa was not born at the time, and her
father did not inhabit the _hacienda_, which he purchased subsequently.
At that time the family lived in retirement at a town in the Banda
Oriental; for you must know that Don Pedro de Luna is not a Mexican,
and the name by which you know him is not his; at least he has only
adopted it, the name belonging to the original branch of his family in
Mexico. He did not assume it till after the occurrence of the events
I am about to relate, when he came to settle here, having bought Las
Norias de San Antonio from his relations, who, established for many
years in Mexico, only occasionally, and at long intervals, paid a visit
of a few days to this distant _hacienda._ The people at San Lucar, and
the other inhabitants of the province, knowing Don Pedro de Luna under
no other name, imagined it was really that person who had chosen to
retire to his estate. My master, when he came here, cared the less to
disabuse them, as, when he bought the _hacienda_, he had stipulated
with his relations for the right to bear their name. The latter
naturally found nothing extraordinary in this; and now that, after
a lapse of twenty years, Don Pedro, by the death of his relations,
has become the head of the family, this borrowed name has become
effectually his own, and none can dispute his right to bear it."
"You excite my curiosity to the utmost; and I wait with impatience for
the beginning of your tale."
The two men seated themselves as comfortably as they could in the
_rancho;_ and Don Estevan Diaz, without farther digression, commenced
his long-deferred story. He spoke the whole day long, and when night
fell was still speaking.
Don Fernando, his eyes eagerly fixed on the narrator, his heart
palpitating, and his eyebrows compressed, listened with liveliest
interest to the tale, the strange events of which, as they were
unrolled before him, made him shudder with emotions of mingled rage and
horror.
Taking Don Estevan's place, we will ourselves recount to the reader
this mournful history.