IN WHICH THE SALE OF THE HERD IS DISCUSSED.
What Doña Angela had told Don Cornelio was true: her father was really
expecting his mayordomo that morning, in order to consult with him about
certain improvements he wished to introduce at one of his haciendas, and
also about buying cattle to re-stock his prairies, which had been
devastated during the last periodical incursion which the Apache and
Comanche Indians are in the habit of making upon the Mexican territory.
Still, Doña Angela, like the true Creole she was, had never hitherto
troubled herself about her father's domestic affairs, having too much to
do in thinking of her toilet and pleasures. Hence she did not know how
to bring the conversation gently round to that point, without allowing
the interest she took in it to be suspected. But the most simple-minded
woman becomes crafty when her interest is at stake. After the Spaniard
had withdrawn the girl remained pensive for a few moments; but then a
smile played on her rosy lips, she patted her dainty little hands
gleefully together, and fell asleep murmuring softly,--
"I have found it."
The Mexicans are early risers, that they may enjoy the freshness of the
morning hours. At half past seven Doña Angela opened her eyes, and
devoutly paid her matin orisons to the Virgin; then, aided by Violanta,
her clever camarista, she proceeded to the charming mystery of her
toilet.
Her sleep had been as peaceful as that of a bird: hence she was calm,
and gloriously lovely. At the moment that Violanta put in the last pin,
intended to hold the long and thick tresses of her magnificent hair, a
knock was heard at the door. It was the general.
Don Sebastian was dressed in the rich costume of the Sonorian country
gentry; but his masculine and sharply-cut features, his haughty glance,
his long moustaches, but, above all, his decided walk, allowed him to be
recognised for a soldier at the first glance, in spite of the dress he
had assumed. It had been the general's custom for many long years to
come thus every morning, and wish his daughter good day: his child's
frank and simple smile sent a gentle ray of sunshine into his heart,
whose reflection aided him during the rest of the day in supporting the
inseparable cares of power.
Violanta hastened to open, and the general walked in. Doña Angela
cunningly watched the expression of his face, and she bounded with
delight on fancying she saw that he was pleased in spite of the severe
appearance he sought to give his features. Don Sebastian kissed his
daughter affectionately, and sat down on a butaca which Violanta drew
forward for him.
"Oh, my child!" he said, "how fresh and radiant you are this morning! It
is easy to see that you have passed an excellent night."
"At any rate, papa," she said with a little pout, "if it was not so, it
was not my fault, I assure you; for I was greatly inclined to sleep when
I retired last night."
"What do you mean? Was your sleep disturbed?"
"Yes, several times."
"_Caramba!_ Dear little one, it was the same with me. Some scamp
persisted in strumming the most melancholy airs on the guitar, that
would have frightened the cats themselves, and kept me awake all night
Deuce take the musician and his silly instrument!"
"It was not that, papa. I scarcely heard the man of whom you are
speaking."
"What was it, then? I was not aware of any other noises last night but
that."
"I cannot explain to you positively what I heard; but Violanta was also
aroused several times like myself."
"Is that true, little one?" the general asked, turning to the camarista,
apparently busy at the moment in arranging the cuarto.
"Oh, señor general," she exclaimed, clasping her hands, "it was a
fearful noise--a noise to wake the dead!"
"What the deuce could it be?"
"I do not know," she replied, assuming her most innocent air.
"Did it last long?"
"All the night," she said, trumping what her mistress had alleged.
"Hum! But it must have resembled something, I suppose?"
"Certainly, papa; but I do not know with what to compare it."
"And you, little wench, cannot you make a guess?"
"I fancy I know."
"Ah! Well, then, tell us at once, instead of leaving us in the dark."
"I will, Excellency. This morning, taking advantage of my lady's
sleeping, I went down very gently to try and discover the cause of the
noise that kept us awake all night."
"And you found it?"
"I think I did."
"Very good: go on."
"It seems that hunters arrived here yesterday with a large herd of
novillos, toros, &c., which they are taking, I believe, to California.
It was these animals which, by stamping and roaring, prevented us
sleeping, for their corral adjoins this house."
"And how did you learn all this?"
"Oh! Very easily, Excellency. Accident willed it that I should address
one of the owners of the herd."
"Listen to that! Accident was very kind."
Violanta blushed. The general did not notice it, but continued, "Are you
sure they were not vaqueros belonging to some hacienda?"
"O no, Excellency; they are hunters."
"Good; and they want to sell their _ganado_?"
"The man I spoke with said so."
"I suppose he asks a high price?"
"I do not know."
"That is true. Well, my child," he added, rising and turning to his
daughter, "so soon as you are ready we will breakfast, and perhaps I
will deliver you from the horrible noise of these animals."
The general kissed his daughter once again, and left the room. So soon
as he was gone the two girls began laughing like little madcaps.
We must allow that both had played their part to perfection, and though
he little suspected it, had, in a few moments, led the general to do
exactly what they wanted, while leaving him persuaded that he was merely
acting from his own impulse.
A few minutes later Doña Angela joined her father in the cuarto, which
was employed as dining room. The mayordomo had arrived, and the general
only awaited his daughter's presence to begin the meal. This mayordomo,
already known to the reader, was no other than Don Isidro Vargas, who
had accepted this situation as a retiring pension.
The Mexican haciendas, especially in Sonora, are often eight to ten
leagues in extent. To watch so large a tract of country, on which
immense bands of wild horses and numerous herds of cattle pasture at
liberty, a young, robust, and active man is generally selected, who is
called in that country a _hombre de a caballo_. In truth, the profession
of a mayordomo is excessively severe: he must constantly be on
horseback, galloping day and night, in heat or cold, doing everything
and looking after everything himself, and obliging the peons to work,
who are the idlest fellows in existence, and the biggest thieves
imaginable.
Don Isidro was no longer young. At the period when we bring him again on
the stage he was nearly seventy; but this long, thin man, on whose bones
a yellow skin, dry as parchment, seemed to be glued, was as upright and
vigorous as if he were but thirty: age had gained no power over his
body, which was solely composed of muscles and nerves. Thus, by his
continual vigilance, his indefatigable ardour, and his uncommon energy,
he was the terror of the poor fellows whom their evil destiny had placed
under his orders, and who fully believed that their mayordomo had made a
compact with the demon, so closely did he watch them, and so thoroughly
was he acquainted with their slightest actions.
The mayordomo had retained his _botas vaqueras_, and his spurs with
enormous rowels, which compel the wearer to walk tiptoe. His zarapé and
hat of vicuna skin were negligently thrown on a butaca in a corner, and
at his left side hung a sheathless machete, passed through an iron ring.
So soon as he perceived the young lady he walked up to her, wished her
good day, and embraced her affectionately. The captain knew Doña Angela
from the day of her birth, and loved her as his daughter. She, for her
part, entertained a great friendship for the old soldier, with whom she
had played when a child, and whom she still liked to tease, to which the
worthy mayordomo lent himself with the best grace in the world.
They sat down to table; but that expression is somewhat pretentious when
applied to a Mexican breakfast.
We have already frequently remarked that the Spanish Americans are the
most sober people in the world. The least thing suffices them. Thus the
breakfast in question was only composed of a small cup of that excellent
chocolate which the Spaniards alone know how to make, of a few maize
tortillas, and a large glass of water. This meal, if it be one, is
common to all classes of society in Mexico.
The party sat down to table, then, Doña Angela said the benedicite and
the chocolate was served. The conversation, at the outset, was
completely in the hands of the general and the captain, and turned
exclusively on what had happened at the hacienda since the general's
last visit; then it gradually veered round to the subject of the ganado.
"By the way," Don Sebastian said, "have you recovered any of the cattle
those demons of Apaches took from us in their last attack?"
"Not a head, general, _Válgame Dios!_ You might as well pursue the wind
and the tempest as try to catch up those red devils."
"Then we have lost--"
"All that was within their reach; that is to say, about 2500 head."
"That is hard; and how have you repaired the loss?"
"Up to the present I have only succeeded in collecting 1500 head; and if
you remember, it was on this very subject that you gave me the meeting
here."
"I remember the fact perfectly; still I do not exactly see what we can
do, except buy other cattle."
"Hang it! That is the only way we have of completing our herds."
"Have you any in view?"
"At this moment?"
"Yes."
"No, indeed, I have not, for the ganado is growing beyond all price. The
discovery of gold in California has caused an enormous number of
adventurers from every country to flock there. You know what the
_gringos_ are; they must have meat. These miserable heretics are such
gluttons that they could not do without it; and thus they have devoured
all the ganado they could find in their neighbourhood, and are now
obliged to fetch it for nearly two hundred leagues. You can understand
that such a thing sends prices up enormously."
"That is annoying."
"And yet, general, only an instant agone, while placing my horse in the
corral. I saw the most magnificent herd of novillos that can be
imagined. It is evident that the poor animals have travelled at least
one hundred leagues, for they appear so fatigued."
Doña Angela gave a sly glance at her camarista, who was standing behind
her.
"I have heard of them," the general said carelessly; "they are on the
road to San Francisco, I believe."
"What did I say not a moment ago?" the captain exclaimed, striking his
fist on the table. "_Caray!_ If those confounded gringos are let alone,
they will have devoured all our cattle before ten years have passed."
"Can we not try to purchase these?"
"It would be an excellent business for us, even if we paid dearly; but
their owners will not be inclined to sell."
"Who knows? I fancy, on the contrary, that they are willing to get rid
of them."
"_Rayo de Dios!_ Buy them, then."
"Yes; but at what price?"
"It is certain that cattle are growing scarcer and scarcer: offer them
for each head bought here the price it would fetch at San Francisco."
"Hum! And how is the market down there?"
"About eighteen piastres."
"Oh, oh! That is to say, for six hundred head--"
"Ten thousand eight hundred piastres: offer the even money."
"That is dear."
"What would you have? You will have to do it."
"That is true; but it is hard."
The general reflected for a moment, and then turned to his daughter.
"Angela," he said, "what is the name of the hunter who owns the herd?"
The young lady started.
"Why do you ask me, papa?" she replied, with feigned astonishment; "I
really do not know what you mean. I am entirely ignorant whether there
is a herd in this hostelry."
"That is true," the general said, recollecting. "Where the deuce is my
head gone? It was your camarista, I believe, who spoke to one of the
fellows."
"Yes, papa."
"Pardon me. Come, Violanta, my child, can you tell me this man's name?"
The girl approached with downcast eyes, and twisting the hem of her fine
muslin apron between her fingers with an embarrassed air. It was evident
she was trying all she knew to blush. The general awaited her answer for
several minutes, but then lost patience.
"Come, you little fool," he exclaimed, "will you make up your mind to
speak, yes or no? People would fancy I was asking you a question unfit
for a maiden to answer."
"I do not say that, general," she replied hesitatingly.
"Enough of that mock modesty. What is the name of the owner of this
ganado?"
"There are two, general."
"What are their names, then?"
"One is a Spaniard, the other a Frenchman, Excellency."
"What do I care what country the scamps belong to? I only want to know
their names."
"One is called Don Cornelio."
"And the other?"
"Don Louis."
"But they have other names beside those?"
Violanta exchanged a rapid glance with her mistress.
"I do not know them," she said.
"Hum!" the general remarked sarcastically, "you only know people, it
appears, by their baptismal names. That's worth knowing."
This time the girl really blushed, and retired in great confusion. Don
Sebastian made a sign to a peon who was standing respectfully a few
paces off.
"Gregorio," he said, "go and present the compliments of General Don
Sebastian Guerrero to the Señores Don Louis and Don Cornelio, and beg
them to honour him with a visit. You understand me?"
The peon bowed and went out.
"We must be polite with these people," the general observed. "Now that
the discovery of the Californian placers has overthrown all classes of
society, who knows with whom we may have to deal?"
And he accompanied this remark by a sarcastic laugh, in which the
captain, as the worthy Mexican he was, noisily joined.
We will observe parenthetically that General Guerrero, like the majority
of his countrymen, professed the most inveterate hatred for Europeans, a
hatred which nothing justified, unless it was that superiority which the
Creoles are obliged to recognise in the Europeans--a superiority which
they submit to unwillingly, but before which they are forced to bow
their heads.
Several minutes elapsed, and then the peon returned.
"Well?" the general asked him.
"Excellency," the peon answered respectfully, "the caballeros will have
the honour of waiting on you. They are following me."
"Very good. Put a bottle of Catalonian refino and glasses on the table.
I know from experience that these gentry have no partiality for pure
water."
After this new jest the general rolled a _papelito,_ lighted it, and
waited. Within five minutes the sound of footsteps was heard in the
corridor; the door opened, and two men appeared.
"It is not he!" Doña Angela murmured in a low voice, for her eyes were
anxiously fixed on the door.
The two men were Valentine and Don Cornelio.