THE MARQUIS DE CASTELMELHOR.
The man whom the marquis had called immediately after his interview
with the mameluco, and whom he had at once ordered to enter his tent,
was short and thick, but well made and strong, and about forty years of
age.
An Indian of a pure race, he bore on his countenance, which neither
tattoo nor paint disfigured, the distinctive traits, although a little
effaced, of the Mogul race. His black eyes, lively and full, his
straight nose, his large mouth, his rather high cheekbones, formed a
physiognomy which, without being handsome, was not wanting in a certain
sympathetic charm. As we have said, he commanded some soldados da
conquista attached to the caravan.
The captain, for such is the title that he bore, respectfully saluted
the marquis, and waited till it might please him to speak to him.
"Sit down, Diogo," said the marquis, kindly; "we must have a long talk
together."
The Indian bowed, and seated himself.
"You saw the man who went out of this tent a minute ago, did you not?"
resumed the marquis.
"Yes, your Excellency," answered the captain.
"And without doubt you recognised him."
The Indian smiled, without otherwise answering.
"Good; what do you think of him?"
"Of whom, your Excellency?" said he.
"Of the man of whom I am speaking."
"Why, your Excellency, I think of him what you yourself think,
probably."
"I ask your opinion, Señor Don Diogo, in order to judge if it tallies
with mine."
"Eh, eh," said the Indian, shaking his head.
"Which is--"
"That this man is a traitor, my lord."
"So you also believe in treason on his part?"
"Well, my lord, to speak frankly, for 'tis a frank explanation you ask
of me is it not?"
"Certainly."
"Well, I am convinced that this accursed mameluco is quietly leading us
to some trap that he has artfully prepared."
"That is very serious, you know," answered the marquis, in a reflective
tone.
"Very serious indeed, your lordship. Malco is a sertanejos, and in the
language of the desert, Sertão is the synonym of treason."
"Well, I avow to you the suspicions you utter do not astonish me."
"I am happy, my lord, to see you share my opinion."
"What! You have no suspicions?" cried the marquis.
"No, I am certain."
"Certain! And you have told me nothing of it up to the present time?"
"I am morally certain, but it would be impossible to prove what I
advance at the present time."
The marquis allowed his head to fall on his breast, and remained silent
for some moments.
"But," pursued he, "this moral certainty is founded on certain
indications?"
"Oh, indications do not fail, my lord. Unhappily, these circumstances
would appear very frivolous, if I revealed them to persons who were not
forewarned; that is why I have abstained from saying anything to you
before you asked me."
"Perhaps you are right, but now the situation is changed; it is I who,
of my own accord, have asked this interview with you. The situation in
which we are is critical; it may become more so."
"Come what may, I know I am doing my duty, and that is sufficient for
me, even if Malco should come to affirm to your lordship that I have
not spoken the truth about him."
"You have nothing to fear about señor Malco."
"Violent and wicked as he is, your lordship," answered the captain,
with some animation, "I do not fear him, and he knows that well. This
is not the first time we have fallen out."
"I did attach to my words the meaning you give to them; you have
nothing to fear from Diaz, for the simple reason that he is no longer
in my service."
"What! Your lordship," cried the Indian, with astonishment, "you have
dismissed him?"
"No, it is he himself, of his own accord, who has left us to ourselves."
"Your Excellency was wrong to allow him to leave; when people have in
their power a rascal of that stamp, they should not let him go."
"What could I do? His engagement was up, and he refused to renew it, or
even to prolong it for some days; so I was obliged to consent to his
departure."
"That is right, your Excellency; pardon me. This man was free, so you
could not retain him; but, under similar circumstances, I should not
have acted so, especially after my suspicions."
"I know well that is wrong; unhappily, I had no pretext to give him, no
plausible reason to keep him."
"Yes, yes, all that is true; but believe me, my lord, if Malco has so
abruptly left us, it is because he had strong reasons for doing so, and
that he has near here some accomplices, in conjunction with whom he is
preparing our ruin."
"I think with you, Don Diogo; but who are these accomplices? Where are
they hidden?"
The captain smiled with cunning.
"Only birds and fishes do not leave traces of their path," said he;
"skilful as a man may be, we can always discover his track."
"So you would give much to know where this man has gone to?"
"Certainly, my lord; notwithstanding the precautions by which he has
surrounded his flight, and the care which he has taken to hide his
tracks."
"Unhappily, before undertaking anything, we must wait for sunrise."
"Why should we wait till tomorrow, my lord? I ask your pardon for
daring to interrogate you."
"Why, it appears to me that to discover a track, even if it were ever
so plainly indicated, the first condition is to see clearly."
"That is of little importance, my lord," answered the captain; "for a
man accustomed as I am to track the desert at all hours, darkness does
not exist."
"So," cried the marquis, with a movement of satisfaction, "if I ordered
you to mount horse--"
"I would mount immediately, my lord."
"And you would bring me news?"
"No doubt of it; am I not an Indian myself, my lord--a civilised
Indian, it is true; but, nevertheless, I have preserved sufficient of
the sagacity of the race to which I belong to fear no failure in a step
which may appear to you very difficult."
"Since it is to be so, Don Diogo, put yourself in the saddle as soon
as possible, and go, for heaven's sake. I await your return with most
eager impatience."
"Before the rising of the sun I will return, and with good news; but I
want you to allow me to conduct the affair in my own way."
"Act as you please, Captain; I trust to your sagacity."
"I shall not deceive your expectation, my lord," answered the captain,
rising.
The marquis accompanied him as far as the curtain of the tent, and
then returned to sit down; but, after some minutes of reflection, he
abruptly rose, went out, and walked rapidly towards the mysterious tent
of which we have already had occasion to speak.
This tent, much larger, than that erected for the marquis, was divided
into several compartments by canvas sheets, ingeniously adapted, and
rather resembled, for luxury and comfort, a habitation intended to last
several months, than a camp merely constructed for a few hours.
The compartment which the marquis entered was furnished with sofas; a
carpet was spread on the ground, and a silver lamp, curiously chased,
placed on a piece of furniture, diffused a gentle and mellow light.
A young Negress of about twenty, of sprightly countenance and pretty
figure, was occupied, on the entry of the marquis, in playing with a
magnificent ara perched on a slip of rosewood, to which he was attached
by a gold chain fastened to one of his legs.
The Negress, without leaving off the occupation in which she seemed
to take delight, and making the bird utter discordant cries, leant
carelessly towards the marquis, half turning in his direction with
a movement full of arch insolence, and gave him a roguish look from
beneath her long eyelashes, and waited till he should address her.
The marquis, without appearing to observe the hostile attitude assumed
by the slave, took some steps towards her, and, touching her lightly
with his finger--
"Phoebe," said he to her in Spanish, "will you please to take notice
that I am here?"
"What is your presence to me, Señor marquis?" answered she, slightly
shrugging her shoulder.
"To you, nothing; it is true, Phoebe, as it is not for you that I have
come, but for your mistress."
"At this hour?"
"Why not?"
"Because doña Laura--fatigued, as it appears, by the long journey that
she has been obliged to make today--has retired, ordering me not to
allow anyone to come near her."
A feverish flush suffused the countenance of the marquis; he knitted
his eyebrows so as to make them meet; but considering, no doubt, the
ridiculousness of a scene with a slave who was only acting according to
orders, he soon mastered himself.
"Well," said he, intentionally slightly raising his voice, "your
mistress is free in her own house to act in her own way; only, this
interview, which for some days she has refused me with such obstinacy,
I shall know how to compel her to accord to me."
Scarcely had he pronounced these words, when a curtain was drawn aside,
and doña Laura entered the room.
"You threaten me, I think, Don Roque de Castelmelhor," said she, in a
sharp and loud voice. "Retire, Phoebe," added she; "but only go so far
as you may be able to come to me immediately."
Phoebe bowed her head, cast a last look at the marquis, and left the
room.
"Now, Señor caballero," pursued doña Laura, "since the slave has
retired, speak; I will listen to you."
The marquis bowed respectfully to her--
"Not, Señorita, before you have deigned to take a seat."
"What good will that do? But," she added, "if that mark of
condescension will abridge this interview, it would ill become me not
to obey you."
The marquis bit his lip, but did not answer.
Doña Laura seated herself on the sofa farthest removed, and crossing
her arms on her chest with a wearied air, while she fixed on her
interlocutor a haughty look--
"Speak now, I beg you," said she. "Phoebe has not lied to you; I am
extremely fatigued."
These words were hissed, if we may employ the happy expression of an
old author, from the most sharpened beak than can be imagined, and doña
Laura leant her head on a cushion, feigning a slight gape.
But the resolution of the marquis had been taken, not to see or
understand anything.
Doña Laura was sixteen years of age; all grace and delicacy. Her
charmingly developed figure had that sprightliness which Spanish women
alone possess. Her bearing was marked by that careless and voluptuous
languor, the secret of which the Hispano-Americans have obtained from
the Andalusians. Her long deep chestnut hair fell in silky ringlets on
brilliantly white shoulders; her blue and dreamy eyes seemed to reflect
the azure of the sky, and were crowned by black eyebrows, the delicate
outline of which was traced as with a pencil. Her finely chiselled
nose, and her charming little mouth, which, in half opening, discovered
a double row of pearly teeth, completed a beauty rendered more gentle
and noble by the delicacy and transparency of her skin.
Dressed in gauze and muslin, like all Creoles, the young girl was
ravishing, seated on a sofa like the beija flor in the chalice of a
flower, especially at that moment when anger, suppressed and mastered
with difficulty, caused her virgin bosom to palpitate, and covered her
cheeks with a crimson flush, doña Laura had something seductive, and
at the same time majestic about her, which imposed respect, and almost
commanded veneration.
Don Roque de Castelmelhor, notwithstanding the decision, and the formal
intention he had manifested, could not resist the powerful charm of a
beauty so noble and pure. His look fell before that of the young girl,
which was filled with hatred and almost with contempt.
"We have reached, Señorita," he said, "after great fatigues, the limit
of the civilised countries of Brazil; for, if I do not deceive myself,
the route it is now necessary to follow is hidden in deserts into
which, before us, a few hardy explorers only had dared to venture. I
think, then, that the time has come to exchange explanations frankly."
Doña Laura smiled with disdain, and, interrupting him with a gesture:
"As that situation, caballero," said she, with bitterness, "cannot
be rendered clearer and more decided, I will spare you, if you wish
it, the embarrassment of entering into certain details... Oh, do not
interrupt me," said she, with vivacity, "here is the fact in a few
words: my father, don Zeno Álvarez de Cabral, a descendant of one of
the most illustrious conquerors of this country, a refugee in the
environs of Buenos Aires, from reasons of which I am ignorant, but
which doubtless little concern you, rendered hospitality to a lost
traveller, who, in the middle of the night, during a frightful storm,
presented himself at the door of his hacienda. That traveller was
you, Señor, you, a descendant of a race not less illustrious than
ours, since one of your ancestors was governor of Brazil. The name of
the marquis, don Roque de Castelmelhor, offered to my father all the
guarantees of honour and good faith he could desire; you were received,
then, by the exile, not as a foreigner, not even as a compatriot, but
as a friend and a brother. Our family became yours; all that is true,
is it not?"
"All that is true, Señorita," answered the marquis.
"I see, with pleasure, that you have, in default of other qualities,
frankness, Señor," ironically replied the girl. "Robbed of all its
property, my family, exiled for nearly a century from the country
discovered by one of its ancestors, could live but with difficulty. You
presented yourself to my father as a victim of the political intrigues
of people into whose hands the king of Portugal had delegated his
powers; this reason was sufficient for our house to become yours, and
for my father not keeping secrets from you. There was one, however,
of which, notwithstanding all your skill, it was impossible for you
to obtain the revelation; it is on the discovery of that secret that
depended the future fortune of his family, if, as my father hoped,
the king should permit him someday to return to Brazil. This secret,
which my father, my brother, and myself alone knew, by what means you
succeeded, if not in wholly discovering it, at least in penetrating it
sufficiently that your covetousness and your avarice should be aroused
to the point of making you betray your benefactors--that is what I
shall not seek to explain. In a word, although you had, during several
months, lived intimately with us, without appearing to honour me with
the least attention--treating me rather as a child than as a young
girl, suddenly you changed. You see that I also am frank."
"Go on, Señorita," answered the marquis, smiling, "I know your candour.
It remains for me to learn whether you possess as much perspicacity."
"You shall not be long judging of that, Señor," replied she,
ironically. "Perhaps your cares and devotion would have obtained the
result you hoped for, and I might have been brought, if not to love
you, at least to be interested in you; but, happily for me, I was not
long in seeing clearly into your heart. Carried away by insatiable
avarice, you allowed yourself on several occasions in my presence, to
speak to me of everything but your pretended love."
"Oh, Señorita," exclaimed the marquis.
"Yes," answered she, with bitter raillery; "I know you are a consummate
actor, and that it would not be my fault were I even now to believe in
that passion of which you make so great a display."
The young girl paused for some moments, to allow the marquis the
opportunity of answering, but, instead of doing so, he bit his lips and
bowed his head.
Doña Laura smiled.
"The brutal way in which you have traitorously carried me off is the
most decided proof to me of the odious scheme of which I have been the
victim. If you really loved me, nothing was easier to you than to ask
my hand of my father."
"Señorita, did you not answer to the demand I had the honour to address
to you by a refusal?" asked the marquis.
"Certainly; but I am only a young girl," answered she, with animation,
"a child, as you yourself have said, who does not know herself. That
offer of marriage ought not then in any way, and especially with regard
to the rules of society to have been addressed to me, but to my father.
But no! You had another design: that marriage was but a pretext for you
to seize on the immense riches you covet. At this moment you would not
dare to maintain the contrary."
"Who knows?" murmured he, with an air of raillery.
"So you have preferred to cause me to fall into a snare, to carry me
away from my family, whom my disappearance has plunged into the most
profound despair, and to force me to follow you--I, a poor defenceless
child, a prisoner in the midst of bandits, of whom you are the chief."
"Since, according to your own expression, Señorita, I have so brutally
carried you away from your family, have I conducted myself towards you
otherwise than as a gentleman of my name and race ought?"
"It is true," answered she, bursting into a fit of laughter; "I must
admit that. But what is the cause of these attentions and this respect?"
"Love most sincere and most--"
"Enough of lies, Señor;" she cried, "your first word on entering under
this tent betrayed you."
"Señorita!"
"You believe yourself to have arrived in the latitude of the diamond
country discovered by one of my ancestors, and you wish at last to
try and obtain from me--for avarice blinds you--the revelation of the
secret you believe I possess!"