In addition to the consequences that would arise from his resolve--
already foreseen by Don Rafael Tres-Villas--there was one other of which
he could not have had any foresight.
A glance into the interior of the hacienda will proclaim this
consequence.
Within that chamber, already known to the reader, were Don Mariano de
Silva, with his two daughters; and their situation was enough to justify
the silence which succeeded to the summons of the dragoon. Inside the
closed door, and by the side of the two young girls, stood Arroyo and
Bocardo. Poignard in hand, the brigands were tracing out to Don Mariano
the line of conduct he should pursue.
"Listen to me, Don Mariano de Silva," said the former, with an air of
brutal mockery that was habitual to him, "I rather think you are too
loyal a gentleman to dishonour the laws of hospitality by delivering up
your guests."
"It is true," replied the haciendado, "you may rest assured--"
"I know it," continued Arroyo, interrupting him; "you would not betray
us of your own accord. But this demon of a dragoon captain will break
open the gate, and take us in spite of your intreaties. Now, listen!
and hear what I wish you to do."
"Can you suggest any means of preventing him from acting thus?"
"Nothing more simple, good Senor de Silva. This _coyote_ of the devil
is your personal friend. If in the quality of your serving-man--that
is, in times past--I chanced to apprehend a little of what was going on,
you cannot blame me. If I am not mistaken, the dragoon captain has a
little weakness for the pretty Dona Gertrudis. For that reason he will
pay some regard to the danger that now hangs over the young lady's
head."
"Danger! I do not comprehend you."
"You will, presently. You may say to the captain outside there, that if
he persists in breaking open your gates, he may capture _us_ alive.
That he may do, beyond doubt; but as to yourself, and your two
daughters, he will find nothing more of you than your dead bodies. You
understand me now?"
Arroyo need not have been so explicit. Half the speech would have been
enough to explain his fearful meaning. The air of ferocity that
characterised his features was sufficiently indicative of his thoughts.
The daughters of Don Mariano, terrified at his looks, flung themselves
simultaneously into the arms of their father.
At that moment the notes of the bugle resounded through the building;
and the voice of the dragoon was heard for the second time pronouncing
his summons.
The haciendado, troubled about the fate of his children--thus completely
in the power of his unfaithful vaqueros, whose companions crowded the
corridor--permitted the second summons to pass without response.
"_Mil Devionios_!" cried the bandit, "why do you hesitate? Come! show
yourself at the window, and make known to this furious captain what I
have told you. _Carrai_! if you do not--"
The bugle sounding for the third summons drowned the remainder of the
brigand's speech. As soon as the trumpet notes had ceased to echo from
the walls, a voice was heard from without, the tones of which produced
within the heart of Gertrudis at the same moment both fear and joy.
It was the voice of Rafael.
Quickly following it were heard the cries of the troopers as they called
aloud--
"Death to the enemies of Spain!"
"One moment!" shouted Don Mariano, presenting himself at the window,
where he could command a view of the plain below; "I have two words to
say to your captain: where is he?"
"Here!" responded Don Rafael, riding a pace or two in front.
"Ah! pardon," said the haciendado, with a bitter smile; "I have hitherto
known Captain Tres-Villas only as a friend. I could not recognise him
in the man who threatens with ruin the house where he has been a guest."
At this imprudent speech--whose irony Don Mariano had not been able to
conceal--the face of the Captain, hitherto deadly pale, became red.
"And I," he replied, "can only recognise in you the promoter of an
impious insurrection, which I have striven to crush, and the master of a
mansion of which brigands are the guests. You have understood my
summons? They must be delivered up."
"In any case," rejoined the haciendado, "I should not have betrayed
those I had promised to protect. As it is, however, I am not left to my
own choice in this matter; and I am charged to say to you, on the part
of those whom you pursue, that they will poignard my two daughters and
myself before suffering themselves to fall into your hands. Our lives
depend on them, Captain Tres-Villas. It is for you to say, whether you
still persist in your demand, that they be delivered up to you."
The irony had completely disappeared from the speech and countenance of
the haciendado, and his last words were pronounced with a sad but firm
dignity, that went to the heart of Don Rafael.
A cloud came over it at the thought of Gertrudis falling under the
daggers of the guerilleros, whom he knew to be capable of executing
their threat; and it was almost with a feeling of relief that he
perceived this means of escaping from a duty, whose fulfilment he had
hitherto regarded as imperious.
"Well, then," said he, after a short silence, and in a tone that bespoke
the abandonment of his resolution, "say to the brigand, who is called
Arroyo, that he has nothing to fear, if he will only show himself. I
pledge my solemn word to this. I do not mean to grant him pardon--only
that reprieve which humanity claims for him."
"Oh! I don't require your solemn word," cried the bandit, impudently
presenting himself by the side of Don Mariano. "Inside here I have two
hostages, that will answer for my life better than your word. You wish
me to show myself. What want you with me, Senor Captain?"
With the veins of his forehead swollen almost to bursting, his lip
quivering with rage, and his eyes on fire, Don Rafael looked upon the
assassin of his father--the man whom he had so long vainly pursued--the
brigand, in fine, whom he could seize in a moment, and yet was compelled
to let escape. No wonder that it cost him an effort to subdue the
impetuous passions that were struggling in his breast.
Involuntarily his hand closed upon the reins of his bridle, and his
spurs pressed against the flanks of his horse, till the animal,
tormented by the touch, reared upwards, and bounded forward almost to
the walls of the hacienda.
One might have fancied that his rider intended to clear the obstacle
that separated him from his cowardly enemy--who, on his part, could not
restrain himself from making a gesture of affright.
"That which I wish of the brigand Arroyo," at length responded the
Captain, "is to fix his features in my memory, so that I may know them
again, when I pursue him, to drag his living body after the heels of my
horse."
"If it is to promise me only such favours that you have called me out--"
said the bandit, making a motion to re-enter the chamber.
"Stay--hear me!" cried Don Rafael, interrupting him with a gesture;
"your life is safe. I have said it. Humanity has compelled me to spare
you."
"_Carrambo_! I am grateful, Captain; I know the act is to your taste."
"Gratitude from you would be an insult; but if in the red ditch-water
that runs through your heart there be a spark of courage, mount your
horse, choose what arms you please, and come forth. I defy you to
single combat!"
Don Rafael in pronouncing this challenge rose erect in his stirrups.
His countenance, noble and defiant, presented a strange contrast to the
aspect of vulgar ferocity that characterised the features of the man
thus addressed. The insult was point blank, and would have aroused the
veriest poltroon; but Arroyo possessed only the courage of the vulture.
"Indeed?" responded he, sneeringly. "Bah! do you suppose me such a fool
as to go down there? fifty to one!"
"I pledge my honour, as a gentleman," continued the captain, "as an
officer, in the presence of his soldiers; as a Christian, in the
presence of his God--that whatever may be the issue of the combat--that
is, if I succumb--no harm shall happen to you."
For a moment the bandit appeared to hesitate. One might have fancied
that he was calculating the chances of an encounter. But the address
and valour of the dragoon captain were known to him by too many proofs,
to allow him to reckon many chances in his favour. He dared not risk
the combat.
"I refuse," he said, at length.
"Mount your horse. I shall abandon mine, and fight you on foot."
"_Demonio_! I refuse, I tell you."
"Enough. I might have known it. One word more then, I shall still
agree to your life being spared. I solemnly promise it, if you will
allow the inmates of this hacienda to leave the place, and put
themselves under the safeguard of a loyal enemy."
"I refuse again," said the bandit, with a demoniac sneer.
"Away, poltroon! you are less than man; and, by the God of vengeance,
when this hand clutches you, you shall not die as a man, but as a mad
dog."
After delivering this terrible adieu, the captain put spurs to his
horse, turning his back upon the bandit with a gesture of the most
profound contempt.
The bugle sounded the "forward;" and the detachment, wheeling around the
wall of the hacienda, once more took the road that led over the ridge.
Among other bitter reflections, with which this interview had furnished
Don Rafael, not the least painful was his apprehension for the safety of
Gertrudis. No wonder he should have fears; considering the character of
the ruffians in whose power he was compelled to leave her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The apprehensions of Don Rafael were only realised in part.
Two days afterwards he received information from one of his scouts--sent
to Las Palmas for the purpose--that Arroyo and Bocardo had quitted the
neighbourhood--this time in reality--and that Don Mariano and his
daughters had suffered no further injury from them, beyond the pillage
of their hacienda. This the robbers had stripped of every valuable that
it was convenient for them to carry away.