THE KITE AND THE DOVE.
General Bustamente had taken advantage of the sudden good-will that
Antinahuel had shown towards him; so that two days after the events we
have related the Araucanian army was strongly entrenched upon the Bio
Bio. Antinahuel, like an experienced chief, had established his camp at
the summit of a wooded hill. A screen of trees had been left to conceal
the presence of the army. The various contingents had arrived in great
haste at the rendezvous, and more came in every minute. The total force
of the army was, at that moment, about nine thousand men. Black Stag,
with a troop of chosen warriors, beat the country in all directions, in
order to surprise the enemy's scouts.
Antinahuel had retired under his toldo with the Linda and Doña Rosario.
She bore upon her pale countenance traces of the fatigues she had
undergone. She stood, with downcast eyes, before the Toqui.
"My brother sees that I have kept my promise," said the Linda.
"Yes," the Toqui replied; "I thank my sister."
"My brother is a great warrior, he has but one word; before entering
the territories of the Huincas, it will be as well to determine the
fate of his prisoner."
"This young maiden is not my prisoner," Antinahuel remarked; "she shall
be my wife."
"So be it," said the Linda, shrugging her shoulders.
"My sister is fatigued," said the chief. "A toldo is prepared for my
sister; she shall repose a few hours."
"Chief," she replied, "my body feels no fatigue; I am strong. Your
mosotones were very kind to me."
"Their chief had ordered them to do so," Antinahuel said, gallantly.
"I thank you for having given these orders."
"I love my sister," said the Toqui.
The young lady did not at all understand this blunt declaration of love.
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, innocently, "you love me--you have pity on
me."
"I will make every effort to make my sister happy."
"Oh! it would be so easy to do that, if you really wished it!" she
cried.
"What must I do for that? I am ready to obey my sister."
"Is that really true?"
"Let my sister speak," said the chief.
"The tears of a poor girl can only render a great warrior like you sad!"
"That is truth," he remarked, mildly.
"Restore me to my friends!" she cried, in an excited manner.
Antinahuel drew back quite astounded, biting his lips with anger. The
Linda burst into a loud laugh.
"You see," she said, "it is very easy for you to render her happy."
The chief knitted his brow still more ferociously.
"Come, brother," the Linda continued, "do not be angry; leave me to
have a moment's chat with her."
"What to do?" the Toqui asked, impatiently.
"Caramba! why, to explain your intentions clearly to her."
"Well, then----"
"Only be so kind as to observe that in nowise will I answer for
disposing her in your favour."
"Ah! To what purpose, then, will you talk?"
"I will undertake that, after our conversation, she shall know
perfectly what she has to expect from you with regard to herself."
"My sister has a golden tongue--she will prevail."
"Hum! I do not think so; nevertheless I will try, in order to make
myself agreeable," she added.
"Very well; and during that conversation I will visit the camp."
"Do so," said the Linda.
Antinahuel went out, after darting at the young girl a look which made
her cast down her eyes. Left alone with Rosario, the Linda examined her
for an instant with such an expression of malignant hatred, that the
poor girl felt herself tremble. The sight of this woman produced upon
her the strange effect attributed to the look of the serpent; she felt
herself fascinated by the cold glance of the green eyes that were fixed
upon her in a manner which she could not endure. After a few minutes
the Linda said, in a cutting voice--
"Poor girl! Although you have been nearly a month a prisoner, can you
at all divine what induced me to have carried you off?"
"I do not comprehend you, señora," the young lady replied, mildly;
"your words are enigmas to me; I in vain endeavour to discover their
meaning."
"Oh! poor, innocent thing!" the courtesan replied, with a mocking
laugh; "and yet I fancy that on the night we were face to face at the
village of San Miguel, I spoke to you pretty plainly."
"All it was possible for me to understand, señora, was, that you hate
me."
"As the fact exists, of what importance is the reason? Yes, I hate
you, insignificant thing! But I do not even know you! While avenging
myself upon you, it is not you I hate; but the man who loves you; whose
heart is broken at your tears! But the torments I reserve for you are
nothing, if he is ignorant of them."
"God is just, señora," the maiden replied, firmly. "I do not know what
crimes you meditate, but He will watch over me."
"God! miserable, puny creature!" cried the Linda. "God is but a word;
He does not exist."
"He will not fail me, señora," Doña Rosario replied. "Beware! lest soon
bowed by His powerful hand, you, in your turn, may implore His mercy in
vain."
"Begone, miserable child; your threats only inspire me with contempt."
"I do not threaten, señora; I am an unfortunate young girl. I only
endeavour to soften you."
"Vain are your prayers," she added; "when my hour comes I will ask for
no more mercy than I have had for you."
"God pardon you the evil you wish to do."
For the second time the Linda experienced an indefinable emotion,
of which she in vain sought to explain the cause; but she fortified
herself against this secret presentiment which appeared to warn her
that her vengeance would mislead herself.
"Listen!" she said, in a short, sharp tone; "it was I who had you
carried off, as you are aware; but you know not for what purpose,
do you? The man who has just left us, Antinahuel, the chief of the
Araucanos, is a vile wretch! He has conceived a passion for you, an
impure, monstrous passion. His mother wished to divert his mind from
this passion, and he killed his mother."
"Oh!" the young girl exclaimed, penetrated with horror.
"You tremble, do you not?" the Linda continued; "that man is an abject
being! He has no heart but for crime! He knows no laws but those which
his passions and vices impose upon him! Well, this hideous being--this
odious villain loves you; I tell you he is in love with you--do you
understand me?"
"Oh, you cannot have sold me to this man!" the maiden shrieked in a
state of stupefaction.
"I have," she replied, grinding her teeth; "and were it to be begun
again, I would do it again! Oh, you do not know what happiness I
experience in seeing you, a white dove, rolled in the mud."
"But have you no heart, señora?"
"No, I no longer have; it is long since it was tortured and broken by
despair."
For a moment the maiden was overcome.
"Pity, señora!" she cried, in a piercing tone; "oh, you have said you
had a heart once! You have loved! In the name of him you loved, have
pity--pity for me."
"No, no pity, none was felt for me!" and she pushed her away.
"Señora! in the name of one you have loved, pity."
"I love nothing now but vengeance!" she cried; "it is good to hate; a
woman forgets her insults through it."
Doña Rosario did not hear these frightful words; a prey to despair, she
continued to weep and supplicate; but the word child struck her ear; a
light flashed across her brain.
"Oh, señora!" she cried, "I knew you were good, and that I should
succeed in softening you!"
"What does this folly mean?" said the Linda.
"Señora!" Rosario implored, "you have had children! you have loved
them! oh, loved them dearly!"
"Silence, unhappy wretch!" cried the Linda; "silence; speak not to me
of my daughter!"
"Yes," Rosario continued, "that is it; it was a daughter. Oh, you
adored her, señora!"
"Adored my daughter!" cried the Linda, with the roar of a hyena.
"In the name of that beloved daughter, pity!"
The Linda broke suddenly into a frantic laugh. "Miserable fool! what a
remembrance have you evoked!--It is to avenge my daughter! my daughter!
who was stolen from me, that I wish to make of you the most unhappy of
creatures."
Doña Rosario remained for an instant as if struck by a thunderbolt, but
looking the courtesan full in the face, said--
"Señora, you have no heart--be then accursed. As to me, I shall be
taught how to extricate myself from the outrages you vainly threaten me
with."
And, with a movement as quick as thought, she snatched from the girdle
of the Linda a narrow, sharp-pointed dagger.
The Linda sprang towards her.
"Stop, señora," the maiden said to her, resolutely; "one step farther,
and I stab myself! Oh, I no longer fear you!"
Doña Rosarios look was so firm, her countenance so determined, that the
Linda stopped.
"Well," Rosario resumed, with a smile of contempt, "you no longer
triumph now; you are no longer certain of your vengeance; let the man
you threaten me with dare to approach me, and I will plunge this dagger
into my heart."
The Linda looked at her, but made no reply; she was conquered.
At that moment a great tumult was heard in the camp; hurried steps
approached the toldo in which the two women were. The Linda resumed her
seat, and composed her features. Doña Rosario, with a joyful smile,
concealed the dagger.