BEFORE THE ATTACK.
When within gunshot of the hacienda the count commanded a halt.
"De Laville," he said to the captain, "push on ahead, and occupy the
hacienda in force: we shall have our headquarters there."
"What is the use of that?" Belhumeur asked. "Did you not put faith in
my words, then? Don Rafaël and his family will be delighted to receive
you and greet you with open arms."
The count smiled, and bent down to the Canadian's ear.
"My friend Belhumeur," he said to him in a low voice, "you are a
child who will understand nothing. I take these precautions which
grieve you so much, not for my own sake, but on behalf of our friends.
Supposing, as may be unfortunately the case, that we are beaten by the
Mexicans--what will happen then? That Don Rafaël will inevitably fall
a victim to the sympathy he has evinced for us; while, by acting as I
do, he bows to force, and the Mexican authorities will be unable, in
spite of all their desire, to render him responsible for our stay at his
house."
"That is true," the Canadian answered, struck by the logic of this
reasoning.
"Still," Don Louis continued, "in order to avoid any misunderstanding,
you will accompany the captain, and while he is talking loudly you can
whisper to our friends what the reason is."
Five minutes later the detachment started at a gallop, followed
presently by the rest of the column. All took place as the count had
arranged. Warned by Belhumeur, Don Rafaël protested energetically
against the forced occupation of the hacienda, and feigned only to yield
to superior force. The estate was definitively occupied, and Don Rafaël
mounted with some of his servants, in order to go and meet the column;
but, by the count's orders, it did not stop at the hacienda, but pushed
on and camped about two leagues from Hermosillo.
The count and Rafaël met, not like strangers to each other, but as old
friends delighted at meeting again, and entered the hacienda, conversing
in a low voice. Before dismounting, the count sent off couriers and
scouts in every direction, in order to have certain news about the
enemy; and only keeping with him an escort of eight men, he sent the
others to the bivouac, and entered the hacienda.
Don Ramon, Don Rafaël's father, and Doña Luz, that amiable woman
whose touching history we told in a previous story,[1] were waiting,
surrounded by their servants, the arrival of the Frenchmen at the door
of the hacienda.
"You are welcome, valiant combatants for the independence of Sonora,"
General Don Ramon said as he held out his hand to the count.
The latter leaped from his horse.
"May God grant that I may be as fortunate as you have been, general!"
he replied with a bow. Then, turning to Doña Luz, "Pardon me, madam,"
he said to her, "for having come to trouble your peaceful retreat: your
husband is alone to blame for the indiscretion I am committing at this
moment."
"Señor conde," she answered with a smile, "do not make such excuses:
this house and all it contains belong to you. We see your arrival with
joy--we shall witness your departure with sorrow."
The count offered his arm to Doña Luz, and they entered the hacienda.
But the count was restless--his glance wandered incessantly.
"Patience!" Don Rafaël said to him with a meaning smile; "you will
see her. It would have been imprudent for her to appear sooner, so we
prevented her."
"Thanks!" the count said; and the cloud which obscured his noble face
disappeared at once.
The interview of the two lovers was as it should be; that is to say,
calm, affectionate, and deeply felt. The count warmly thanked Father
Seraphin for the protection he had accorded the maiden.
"Ere long," Doña Luz said, "all your torments will be ended, and you
will be able to yield to the passionate emotions of your heart without
constraint."
"Yes," the count answered pensively, "tomorrow will probably decide my
fate, and that of the woman I love."
"What do you mean?" Don Rafaël exclaimed.
The count looked anxiously around him: he saw that he could speak, and
that those who pressed toward him were sincere friends.
"Tomorrow," he said, "I shall attack Hermosillo and take it, or fall
dead in the breach."
All present were in a state of stupor. Don Rafaël made Black Elk a sign
to stand outside the door to keep off all comers, and then returned to
the count.
"Have you really that idea?" he asked him.
"Were it not so, should I be here?" he said simply.
"But," Don Rafaël continued urgently, "Hermosillo is an inclosed town
with strong walls."
"I will force them."
"It has a garrison of 1200 men."
"Ah!" he said indifferently.
"For two months the militia have been exercised daily."
"Militia!" he replied with a disdainful air. "I suppose, at any rate,
they are numerous?"
"About 3000 men."
"All the better."
"General Guerrero, who has at length discovered that his flank was
turned, has thrown himself into the city with 6000 Indians, and is
awaiting other reinforcements."
"That is the reason, my friend, why I must attack at once. I have
already, according to your calculation, opposed to me 11,000 men,
intrenched behind good walls. The longer I wait, the more numerous they
will grow; and if I do not take care," he added with a laugh, "that army
will end by growing so considerable that it will be impossible for me to
destroy it."
"You are perhaps unaware, my friend, that Hermosillo is surrounded by
market gardens, which render the approaches almost impracticable?"
"Believe me, my good friend," the count replied carelessly, "I shall
enter by the gates."
The company gazed on the count with an amazement akin to terror. They
looked at each other, and seemed to be asking whether they had not to
deal with a maniac.
"Pardon me, my friend," Don Rafaël continued, "but I think you said that
you intended to attack tomorrow?"
"Certainly."
"But supposing your troops have not arrived?"
"What! my troops not arrived? Did not you see them march past the
hacienda an hour ago?"
"Yes, I saw a small detachment pass--your vanguard, of course."
"My vanguard!" the count exclaimed with a laugh. "No, my good friend,
that small detachment forms my entire _army_."
Don Rafaël, Don Ramon, and, the other persons present were men of
recognised courage. On several occasions they had sustained giant
combats against enemies tenfold in number; in short, they had furnished
proof of the most extravagant courage and most insane temerity. But
the count's eccentric proposition of going coolly with a handful of
adventurers to take a city defended by 10,000 men seemed to them so
extraordinary and so incredible, that they remained dumb for a moment,
hardly knowing whether they were awake or suffering from a frightful
nightmare.
"Tell me, my friend," Don Rafaël exclaimed, his arguments quite
exhausted, "how many men can you deploy in line?"
"Hang it! not many," the count said with a smile, "I have invalids:
still I can dispose of about two hundred and fifty, and I hope they
will be sufficient."
"Yes," Doña Angela said enthusiastically, "they will be sufficient, for
the cause these men defend is holy, and God will protect them."
"Don Rafaël," the count said simply, "have you ever heard of what is
called the _furia Francese?_"
"Yes, but I confess to you that I do not exactly understand what it is."
"Well," he added, "wait till tomorrow, and when you have seen this
formidable army crushed, destroyed, and dispersed like autumn leaves
by the wind; when you have been present at the capture of Hermosillo,
you will know what _furia Francese_ is, and understand the prodigies
of valour which history has recorded, and Frenchmen perform almost in
sport."
The conversation ended here, and they proceeded to the dining room,
where the refreshments, of which the count stood in such need, had been
prepared. So soon as they rose from table the count asked leave to
retire to the apartment prepared for him, and begged Father Seraphin to
follow him. They remained for a long time shut up, talking ear to ear.
When the missionary came out his eyes were red, and traces of tears
furrowed his pale cheeks. The count pressed his hand.
"So, then," he said, "in case of a mishap----"
"I will be there, count, trust me;" and he retired slowly.
During the evening, and, indeed, far into the night, the count listened
to the reports of his scouts and spies: the news they brought coincided
in every respect with the information imparted by Don Rafaël. General
Guerrero had hurried to Hermosillo, where he was securely intrenched.
Valentine and Curumilla were the last to arrive; but they were not the
bearers of bad news. Valentine, at the head of a party of foragers, had,
by Curumilla's advice, advanced along the Guaymas road, and surprised a
convoy of provisions and ammunition intended for the Mexicans. This had
been taken to the camp by the hunter's care, and was warmly welcomed
by the Frenchmen, whose stock of food, as we have seen, was entirely
exhausted. Captain de Laville, for his part, had surprised three or four
of the enemy's patrols, which had imprudently advanced too far. The
count sent Curumilla to the captain with orders to take advantage of
the darkness of the night to advance, and push on his advanced posts to
within a gun-shot and a half of the town.
When alone with Valentine he spread out a plan of Hermosillo on the
table, and both bending over it, began studying it attentively. We have
already described Hermosillo several times: we will limit ourselves to
saying that the market gardens by which that city is surrounded are
inclosed with walls, behind which it is easy to place _tirailleurs_,
whom the nature of the ground enables to fall back from post to post,
constantly protected by the walls, which are about three feet in
thickness, and built of _adobas_. In addition, on the side on which
the count was marching, a wide and deep ditch, which could only be
traversed by means of a bridge, at the end of which a strong body of
troops was doubtless posted, formed an almost impregnable defence.
As may be seen from our description, Hermosillo is far from being
an open town, which can be seized without striking a blow; and, in
attempting to carry it at the head of 250 men, the Count de Prébois
Crancé, if he succeeded, might justly flatter himself on having
accomplished one of the greatest exploits of modern times.
General Guerrero, according to the reports of the scouts, and the
Mexican officers under his command, affected a superb contempt for these
naked-footed Frenchmen, as they called them, and promised to give them
so rough a lesson that they would not feel disposed to begin again.
Curumilla, however, had brought back a piece of news which could not
fail to give the count hopes. In spite of the immense preparations he
had made, against the company, General Guerrero had been so surprised
by the news of its hurried march on Hermosillo, and the daring manner
in which it had turned its advanced posts, that, in his hurry to go to
the aid of the menaced city, he had been constrained to leave behind him
the greater part of his forces, and the city, in reality, only contained
twelve or fifteen hundred defenders, doubtlessly a very large number,
but much less than the count had expected to find.
Curumilla had peacefully entered the city. His being an Indian served as
his safeguard, and he had seen, visited, and examined everything. This
news the Araucano brought back on reporting to the count the execution
of the orders sent through him to Captain de Laville. The count and the
hunter rubbed their hands, and hastened to make their final arrangements.
Among the hacenderos present at the conference of La Magdalena was one
whose influence was immense upon the pueblos. It was the man who, in
the name of his countrymen, had assured the count that, so soon as an
important town had fallen into the hands of the French, the signal for
revolt should be given, and the country roused in a few days, in order
to effect a decisive diversion. Don Louis, not wishing to lose a moment,
and in the certainty of success, wrote him a letter in which, after
announcing to him the fall of Hermosillo, he urged him to be ready to
support him, and give the signal for insurrection.
We mention this fact to prove not only that the count believed himself
sure of succeeding, but also foresaw everything with that sublime
intuition only possessed by men of genius.
The letter written, and the last arrangements made, the count and
Valentine left the room. It was about two in the morning: the sky was
gloomy, and warm gusts coming from the desert bowed down the leafy
crowns of the trees.
The two foster brothers went down into the patio, where all the
inhabitants of the hacienda had assembled to salute the count on his
departure. Doña Angela, wrapped up in a long white dressing gown, with
pallid face and eyes filled with tears, looked like a phantom in the
glare of the torches shaken by the peons. The escort had mounted and sat
motionless. Curumilla held the horses of the two Frenchmen. When they
appeared, all raised their hats and saluted with a deep and respectful
bow.
"Farewell, Don Louis," Don Rafaël said to him. "May Heaven grant you the
victory!"
"May Heaven grant you the victory," Don Ramon repeated, "for you are
fighting for the independence of a people!"
"Never were more fervent prayers offered up than we shall make for you,
Don Louis," Doña Luz then said.
The count felt his heart contract.
"I thank you all," he said with much emotion. "Your wishes do me good:
they prove to me that among the Sonorians there are some who comprehend
my noble object. Thanks once again."
Doña Angela came up to the count.
"Don Louis," she said to him, "I love you. Do your duty."
The count bent down to her, and imprinted a kiss on her pale forehead.
"Doña Angela, my affianced!" he said with a tenderness impossible to
render, "you will see me again either a conqueror or a corpse."
And he made a move as if to depart. At this moment Father Seraphin came
to his side.
"What!" he said with surprise, "do you accompany me, my father?"
"I am going where duty calls me, sir," the missionary replied with that
angelic simplicity which was so characteristic of him--"where I shall
find pain to console, misfortunes to alleviate. Let me follow you."
Louis pressed his hand silently, and after bowing once again to the
friends he was leaving, perhaps for ever, he gave the signal for
departure, and the cavalcade soon disappeared in the darkness.
Doña Angela remained cold and motionless in the doorway so long as she
could hear the horses' hoofs echoing on the road. When every sound had
died away in the distance a long-restrained sob burst from her.
"Heavens, heavens!" she exclaimed in despair, and stretching out her
hands to the sky. Then she fell back in a fainting fit. Doña Luz and Don
Rafaël hastened to her aid, and carried her into the hacienda, where
they eagerly tried to restore her to consciousness. Belhumeur tossed his
head several times, and prepared to shut the gate of the hacienda.
"Not yet," a voice said to him; "let us go out first."
"Eh, what?" he said. "Where the deuce do you want to go at this hour,
Black Elk?
"To tell you the truth," the hunter answered, "I am almost a Frenchman,
since I am a Canadian, and so I am going to help my countrymen."
"Halloh!" Belhumeur exclaimed, struck by these words, "that's not a bad
idea. By Jove! you shall not go alone; I will accompany you."
"All the better; then there will be three of us."
"How three? Who else is coming with us?"
"Eagle-head, by Jove! The chief says there are down there some Indians,
enemies of his nation, whom he should like to have a set-to with."
"Let us be off, then. I believe that the count will be pleased to have
three fighting men more, like us, in his company."
"By Jove! I should think so," Belhumeur said.
"I do not care," Black Elk remarked, "whatever you may say, he is a fine
fellow. What do you think about him, you who know him, eh?"
"Tough as hickory," the Canadian answered intrepidly.
Without further commentary the three bold hunters mounted and proceeded
in the track of the count.
[1] See "The Trappers of Arkansas."