THE TAPADA.
The American character is made up of contrasts; and one of the strangest
of these is the honesty and punctuality with which play debts are
liquidated. The man who would remorselessly assassinate another to rob
him of two reals, would not fail to pay him, within twenty-four hours,
any gambling debt, however large it might be.
The next morning, on waking, Don Louis found on the table of his room
several canvas bags, filled with ounces. They contained the 14,000
piastres, lost on the previous evening by the general, and which the
latter had sent at sunrise.
Louis was annoyed at this punctuality, which, in his ignorance of
Mexican habits, he was far from expecting. It appeared to him of evil
omen. He dressed; and, after breakfasting, left Don Cornelio engaged in
counting his previous evening's gains, and wrapping himself in his
cloak, went out with the intention of looking at the town.
As, during his walk, he passed before the palace, he took advantage of
this circumstance to give his card to one of the general's criados, not
wishing, after the conversation they had held, to force himself upon
him, but intending to call in person the next day.
The count employed several hours in traversing the town, visiting the
churches, of which two or three are rather fine, and smoking sundry
cigarettes on the Alameda, a delightful promenade shaded by noble
trees, where the fair sex of Pitic breathe the fresh air every evening.
At length, he returned home, shut himself up in his room, and earned on
his correspondence till a late hour.
The next day, as he had resolved, he proceeded to the palace: it was
closed. The general, summoned by an important affair, had started at
four o'clock the previous afternoon on horseback, only taking with him a
small squadron of lancers. But, the man added who gave the count this
information, his excellency the general would not be long absent; he
would probably return within four days. The count, try all he knew,
could obtain no more positive information. The Mexicans, ordinarily so
gossiping, can become, when their interests demand it, as dumb as fish;
and in that case it is impossible, either by money or promises, to get a
single syllable from them.
Don Louis retired, excessively annoyed at this _contretemps_, which
seemed expressly prepared for him; still, in order to clear up his
doubts, and not wishing, under circumstances so grave, to act lightly,
and commit any imprudence, although the general's behaviour seemed to
him highly improper, he resolved to wait a few days, in order that he
might have right on his side, by proving that Don Sebastian's departure
had been premeditated for the purpose of avoiding any further
explanation with him.
Daily, the count sent one of his men to the palace to inquire whether
the general had returned. The answer was always the same. The general
was absent, but it was certain he would soon return: he was indeed
expected at any moment. Eight days passed thus. Another subject of
restlessness then arose, to increase the count's annoyances and the
impatient feeling that was beginning to conquer him.
On leaving Guaymas, he had given orders to the officer to whom he gave
the temporary command of the company, to start to join him after four
days. The men, then, must not only have started, but must be close to
Pitic, as the two towns were only fifteen leagues apart, a distance
which an armed body can easily cover between two suns; and yet, since
his leaving the port, the count had received no news--no reply to his
letters; and the company did not make its appearance.
What had happened since his leaving Guaymas? What new obstacles had been
interposed to the movement of his company? Whence resulted this
incomprehensible delay of four days? Why had not the officer left in
charge informed him of what had occurred? Or had his couriers been
interrupted on the road? Why had not Valentine or Curumilla, those two
resolute and devoted men, for whom the greatest obstacles had no
existence, come to warn him?
All these suppositions, and many others that offered themselves to the
count's perplexed mind, threw him into a state of moral excitement
impossible to describe. He knew not what to resolve, what means to
employ, in order to acquire a certainty a hundred fold preferable to
the doubt that gnawed him. At length, he decided on sending Don
Cornelio, in whom he believed he could trust, at full gallop to Guaymas.
That gentleman was out, however, and was sought for without being found.
This new obstacle culminated the count's feverish impatience. He mounted
his horse, and started with the intention of exploring the environs of
the town, in the secret hope of discovering some traces of his comrades,
or at least learning some news about them. During the four hours he
galloped in every direction, he saw nothing, and heard nothing. He
turned back--a prey to a mighty sorrow, and heavy discouragement.
On approaching his house, the sound of a jarana reached his ears, and he
hurried on his steed. Don Cornelio, carelessly seated on a stool in the
porch of the house, was strumming his guitar, singing, as was his wont,
his inevitable romance of King Rodrigo. On perceiving Don Louis, the
Spaniard threw his instrument far from him, and rose with a cry of joy.
"At length!" he shouted.
"Why at length?" the count answered. "I consider the exclamation
curious, since I have been searching after you, and could not lay my
hand on you."
The Spaniard smiled mysteriously.
"I know it," he said; "but this place is not propitious for talking. Don
Louis, will you permit me to accompany you to your cuarto?"
"With the greatest pleasure; the more so, as I also wish to speak with
you."
"Come, that is a charming coincidence."
On reaching his room, Don Louis turned to his companion.
"Well," he said to him; "what have you to tell me?"
"Listen. This morning, according to my daily custom, I was walking about
after breakfast, smoking a papelito, when, at the corner of the Calle de
la Merced and the Calle San Francisco, I felt a slight touch on my arm.
I turned sharply. A charming woman, or at least I suppose so, for it was
impossible for me to distinguish her features, so carefully were they
hidden in the folds of her rebozo, made me a sign to follow her. What
would you have done in my place, Don Louis?"
"I do not know, my friend; but I entreat you, be brief, for I am in a
hurry."
"Well, I followed her. You know that I have an idea about Mexican women,
and am convinced that some day or other----"
"In Heaven's name, my friend, come to the point," Don Louis interrupted
him, stamping his foot impatiently.
"I am doing so. I followed her then. She entered the church of la
Merced, I at her heels. The church was deserted at that moment, which
caused me a lively pleasure; because in such a case a man can talk at
his ease. Do not be impatient, I have come to it. When I reached a
rather dark corner, the young and charming female, for I assert that she
is both, turned so suddenly that I almost trod on her toes. 'Are you not
Don Cornelio Mendoza?' she asked me. 'Yes,' I replied.
"'In that case,' she said, 'you are a friend of the count.' I guessed at
once that the stranger alluded to you. 'I am his intimate friend,' I
continued. 'That is well,' she added, drawing from her bosom a small
note, which she placed in my hand; 'give him this as quickly as
possible, it alludes to very grave matters.' I seized the paper, on
which I mechanically fixed my eyes; when I raised them again, my
incognita had disappeared, fled like a sylph, leaving no trace. It was
impossible for me to catch her up, for the confounded place was so
dark."
"Well, and where is the note?" Don Louis asked.
"Here it is. Oh, I did not lose it! It was too warmly recommended to
me."
The count took it, and, without deigning a glance, threw it on the
table. Since his arrival at Pitic he had received twenty a day, and had
not answered one; he did not even read them now, as he felt convinced
they all meant the same thing.
"And now," he added, "you have finished, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Then listen to me in your turn," he continued, handing him the letter
he had prepared for the hunter during his absence. "You will mount this
instant, start for Guaymas; give this letter to Don Valentine, and bring
me back the answer. You understand?"
"Of course."
"I can rely on your diligence?"
"I start."
He went out. Ten minutes later, Don Louis heard the hurried footfalls of
a horse re-echoing before the gateway.
"Tomorrow, at this hour, I shall know on what I have to depend," Don
Louis muttered.
He threw himself on a butaca; and, resting his elbows on a table, he
buried his head in his hands, and fell into deep thought. In this
position, his eyes were involuntarily fixed on the note Don Cornelio had
given him, and which was just in front of him. A sickly smile played on
his lips.
"Poor fools!" he muttered, "who only dream of love and pleasure, to whom
life is only one long festival. What need have I of your false
protestations, to which I cannot respond? Love for me no longer exists.
Like all the women who have preceded her, this one, doubtlessly, offers
me an eternal love, which she will forget tomorrow. Why trouble myself
about such absurdities? My heart is dead to joy--only too dead, alas!"
And he thrust the paper away.
The night was rapidly falling, and the count kindled a lucifer match to
light a candle; but, as frequently happens to people deeply engaged,
when he held the lucifer to the candle, he perceived that the former was
nearly burnt out. Then, mechanically, he took up the note he had
spurned, folded it up, and was going to twist it into a spill; but all
at once he stopped, threw the match on the floor, lit another, and read
this note, so despised a moment previously. The following were the
contents:--
"A person interested in the Count Don Louis begs him, for his own sake,
to go this evening to the Alameda at ten o'clock, under the first walk
on the left. A person seated on the third bench will say to him
'Guaymas,' he will answer 'Atravida,' and follow her at a distance,
without addressing other questions to her, to the spot where she is
directed to lead him, and where the count will learn matters which, for
his own safety and that of his comrades, it is important for him to
know."
This strange note was not signed.
"What is the meaning of this?" the count said to himself. "Is it a
mystification? For what object? Is it a snare offered me, in which they
wish me to fall? By Heaven, I will know the truth! What hour is
it--nine? I have still an hour before me. If my mysterious correspondent
meditates an assassination, he will find with whom he has to deal. Who
knows? Perhaps it is really a warning a good friend wishes to give me? I
shall soon see."
While saying this, the count had changed his clothes for others of a
dark hue. He put on his waist belt, through an iron ring of which,
according to the Mexican fashion, he passed a sheathless machete; he
placed two excellent revolvers in his girdle, wrapped himself carefully
in the folds of a wide cloak, pulled his broad brimmed hat over his
eyes, and prepared to go out.
"By Jove!" he said, as he crossed the threshold of the house, "armed as
I am, the brigands who attempt to attack me will have their work cut
out."
At the moment the count entered the street, it struck a quarter to ten
by the clock of the Cabildo.
"I have just time," he said.
And he began walking quickly. The night was dark, the streets were
deserted. As the count had expected, he reached the Alameda exactly as
the clock struck ten.
"Let us see," he said.
He then walked with a firm step, though looking carefully around, and
with his hand on his arms, in fear of a surprise. Conforming to the
instructions of the note, he proceeded toward the walk indicated to him.
He soon distinguished a dark form, which he recognised as that of a
female seated on a bench. The count was then ashamed of his suspicions,
left his hold of his arms, and, after reflection, was on the point of
returning, supposing that this rendezvous was not so serious as he had
at first supposed. Still, after a moment's reflection, he resolved on
carrying out the affair to the end, and walked toward the stranger, who
remained perfectly calm. At the moment he was passing her she coughed
gently, and the count turned to her.
"_Guaymas_" she said in a low voice.
"_Atravida_" the count replied in the same tone.
"Come."
"Go on."
The strange woman rose, and not turning once, proceeded with a firm and
hasty step along the Alameda, and turned into a narrow street inhabited
by leperos, stopping before a house of rather wretched appearance. She
then opened the door with a key she held in her hand, and went in,
being careful to leave the door ajar. The count was close at her heels,
and entered without any hesitation. He found himself in dense obscurity,
and heard the door close behind him with a spasm at his heart.
"It is plain that I am in a wasp's nest," he said to himself.
"Fear nothing," a soft and melodious voice suddenly said, almost in his
ear; "you have no occasion to alarm yourself, for these precautions are
not taken against yourself."
The affectionate and almost mournful accent of this voice completely
reassured the count.
"I fear nothing," he said. "Were I afraid of a snare, should I have
come?"
"Listen, moments are precious. I have only a few seconds at my command."
"I am listening."
"You have powerful enemies; one especially has sworn your destruction.
Take care! You would not serve his plans and become the agent of
disorder, in order to help that man in gaining the object of his
ambition; so that man has resolved your death."
"I despise the man's threats, for I know him."
"Perhaps so, I mention no names. Still, he is not alone against you. If
you wish to foil your enemy's plans, act vigorously; above all be
prudent. Treason is everywhere in Mexico, it is breathed in the air; so
trust to none but well tried men. You have traitors even among those who
come nearest to you."
"What do my enemies want?"
"To destroy you, I tell you, because you have refused to become their
accomplice."
"Oh! I will avenge myself."
"Take care! Above all, do not remain long here. Your enemies can act the
more surely in the dark, when, they know you are away from your company.
Rejoin your comrades."
"I will do so this very night."
"Yes, start at once for the mines. If you can reach them before your
enemies are in a position to raise the mask, you will be saved."
"Thanks for your advice, I will follow it."
"So now, good-by."
"Good-bye," the count said, with an accent of regret.
"We must not meet again."
"What! After the signal service you render me at this moment----"
"It must be. Everything parts us."
"Tell me one thing, pray."
"What?"
"Whence comes the interest you deign to show me?"
"Is the motive for a woman's actions ever known?"
"Oh, you are jesting with me, señora; that is wrong."
The strange lady sighed.
"No, Don Louis," she continued, "I am not jesting with you. What need
that you should know me? Sufficient for you that I watch over you. Seek
not for the motive."
"On the contrary, I am anxious to know it."
"Were I to tell you that I loved you, would you believe it, Don Louis?"
she said, sorrowfully.
"Oh!" he said, with emotion, "I would pity you, madam, if you attached
yourself to a wretched being like myself, whose life has only been one
long suffering."
"Do you not know, then, that we women love the unhappy before all? Our
mission upon earth is to offer consolation."
"Madam, I implore you, do not let me leave you thus. I should carry away
in my heart a grief which nothing could cure."
"I was wrong to come," she murmured, mournfully.
"Oh! Say not so, as you have perchance saved my life."
"Farewell, Don Louis," she replied, with an accent of ineffable
gentleness; "we must part. Whatever may occur, remember that you have a
devoted friend--a sister."
"A sister!" he remarked, bitterly, "be it so. If that is your wish;
madam, I do not insist."
"Take this ring, as you wish absolutely to know who I am. My name is
engraved upon it, but promise me not to read it for three days."
"I swear it," he replied, holding out his hand in the darkness.
A hand seized on his, pressed it gently, left a ring in it; and then he
heard a slight rustling of silk, and a soft voice murmured farewell for
the last time. The count heard a door close, and that was all. In a
second, the door which had granted him admission to the house opened
again. Don Louis wrapped himself in his cloak, and went out, a prey to
considerable agitation. He reached his abode at full speed; from a
distance he perceived a man standing before his gateway. The count,
through a secret presentiment he could not explain, hurried onward.
"Valentine!" he suddenly exclaimed, with marks of amazement.
"Yes, brother," the other answered; "fortunately I met Don Cornelio.
Your horse is ready; come, let us start."
"What is the matter, then?" he exclaimed, anxiously.
"Off, off! I will tell you all on the road."
Five minutes later, the adventurers started at full speed on the road
from Pitic to Guaymas.