Let us now recount the events which took place at the hacienda Las
Palmas from the day on which Captain Tres-Villas was compelled to leave
Don Mariano and his two daughters at the mercy of the ferocious robbers
Arroyo and Bocardo.
The two guerilleros had sought refuge there, with the remnant of their
band--most of which had been already destroyed by Tres-Villas and
Caldelas. From the moment of first entering his house, they had
insisted upon a footing of perfect equality between themselves and their
old master. Even Gertrudis and Marianita were not exempted from this
compulsory social levelling. The brigands ate at the same table with
Don Mariano and his daughters--were waited upon by the servants of the
hacienda--and slept in the very best beds the house afforded.
All the while Bocardo was observed to cast covetous glances on the
silver plate--which, as is customary in the houses of Mexican _ricos_,
was massive and abundant.
In Don Mariano's presence he was in the habit of frequently making
allusion to the richness of the Royalists; and behind his back he had
several times endeavoured to persuade Arroyo that one who was the
proprietor of such wealth, as was enjoyed by the haciendado, could not
be otherwise than an enemy to the insurgent cause, and, at the bottom of
his heart, a friend to the oppressors of the country.
"Look at us, poor insurgents!" he would say, "often reduced--especially
when absent from this hospitable mansion--to use our fingers for forks,
and our _tortillas_ for spoons!"
And the wind-up of his argument always was, that they "ought to treat as
a Royalist a master who dined every day upon silver plates--that Don
Mariano should be reduced to the same condition as other patriotic
insurgents, and use his fingers for forks, while his plates should be
converted into piastres."
Up to a certain period Arroyo rejected these proposals of his comrade.
Not that he had any more respect for the property of Don Mariano than
his associate had; but rather that he was not yet sufficiently hardened
to reckless outrage, as to perpetrate such an audacious robbery on one
who was publicly known to be a friend to the insurgent cause. We say,
up to a certain time Arroyo preserved these egotistical scruples; but
that time terminated on the day and hour when, in the presence of his
old master, and the whole household of Las Palmas, he was forced to
endure the terrible insults inflicted upon him by the dragoon captain.
From that moment he transferred a portion of his vengeful hatred for Don
Rafael to the haciendado and his daughters; and it is possible that on
his leaving Las Palmas the night after--which the dangerous proximity of
Del Valle influenced him to do--he would have left bloody traces behind
him, but for the interference of his associate Bocardo.
The latter, in his turn, had counselled moderation. More covetous of
gold, and less thirsty of blood than Arroyo, the astute brigand had
represented, that "there could be no great blame attached to them for
using the silver of Don Mariano to serve the good cause of the
insurrection; that the more needy of the insurgents might justly demand
aid from their richer brethren, but not their lives or their blood."
Arroyo no longer combated the proposals of his _confrere_. To him they
now appeared moderate; and the result was, that the two _forbans_
collected all of Don Mariano's silver they could lay their hands upon,
with such other valuables as were portable--and, having made a
distribution among their followers, decamped that night from Las Palmas,
taking good care in their _Haegira_ to give the hacienda of Del Valle a
wide berth.
With regard to Don Mariano and his daughters, they were only too happy
that nothing worse than robbery had been attempted by the brigands.
They had dreaded outrage as well as spoliation; and they were rejoiced
at being left with their lives and honour uninjured.
Made aware, by this episode, of the danger of living any longer in a
house isolated as Las Palmas--which might be at the mercy any moment of
either royalists or insurgents--Don Mariano bethought him of retiring to
Oajaca. He would be safer there--even though the town was thoroughly
devoted to the cause of the king; for, as yet, his political opinions
had not been declared sufficiently to compromise him. For some days,
however, circumstances of one kind or another arose to hinder him from
putting this project into execution.
The hacienda of San Carlos, inhabited by the man who was about to become
his son-in-law--Don Fernando de Lacarra--was only a few leagues distant
from that of Las Palmas; and Marianita did not like the idea of leaving
the neighbourhood. Without stating the true one, she urged a thousand
objections to this departure. Gertrudis was also against it. The
souvenirs which Las Palmas called up were at once sweet and sad; and the
influence which sorrow has over love is well-known--especially within
the heart of woman.
In the hacienda Las Palmas sad memories were not wanting to Gertrudis.
How often, at sunset, did she sit in the window of her chamber, with her
eyes bent in dreamy melancholy over the distant plain--deserted as on
that evening when Don Rafael hastened to arrive, risking life that he
might see her but an hour sooner!
When Don Rafael, in the first burst of his grief and vengeance, indulged
in that wild pleasure which is often felt in breaking the heart of
another, while one's own is equally crushed--when he galloped off along
the road to Oajaca, after burying the _gage d'amour_ in the tomb of his
father--thus renouncing his love without telling of it--then, and for
some time after, the young girl waited only with vivid impatience. The
pique she had at first felt was soon effaced by anxiety for his safety;
but this at length gave place to agony more painful than that of
suspense--the agony of suspicion.
We have already related, by what insensible and gradual transitions the
family of Don Mariano de Silva had become confirmed in the belief, that
Don Rafael had proved traitor to his mistress as to his country.
Nevertheless, at that moment when he presented himself, to demand the
surrendering of the brigands, the sound of his voice falling upon the
ears of Gertrudis had come very near vanquishing her wounded pride.
That manly voice--whether when exchanging a few words with her father,
or hurling defiance at the ferocious Arroyo--had caused her heart to
tremble in every fibre. She required at that moment to summon up all
the resentment of love disdained, as well as all the natural modesty of
woman, to hinder her from showing herself to Don Rafael, and crying
out--
"Oh, Rafael! I can more easily bear the dagger of Arroyo, than your
desertion of me!"
"Alas! what have you done, _mio padre_?" cried she, addressing herself
to her father, as soon as Don Rafael had gone; "you have wounded his
pride by your irritating words, at the very moment when, out of regard
for us, he has renounced the vengeance which he had sworn on the grave
of his father! It may be that the words of oblivion and reconciliation
were upon his lips; and you have hindered him from speaking them now and
for ever. Ah! _mio padre_! you have ruined the last hope of your poor
child!"
The haciendado could make no reply to speeches that caused his own heart
to bleed. He deeply regretted the allusions he had made, towards an
enemy to whose generosity he was now indebted for the lives both of
himself and children.