On the second day after the fiesta there was a small dining party at the
Presidio. Merely a few bachelor friends of the Comandante--the _beaux
esprits_ of the place--including the fashionable Echevarria. The cura
was among the number, and also the mission padres, both of whom enjoyed
the convivialities of the table equal to any "friar of orders grey."
The company had gone through the numerous courses of a Mexican meal--the
"pucheros", "guisados," and endless mixtures of "chile,"--and the dinner
was at that stage when the cloth has been carried off, and the wine
flows freely, "Canario" and "Xeres", "Pedro do Ximenes", "Madeira," and
"Bordeos," in bottles of different shapes, stood upon the table; and for
those who liked a stronger beverage there was a flask of golden
"Catalan," with another of Maraschino. A well-stored cellar was that of
the Comandante. In addition to his being military governor, he was, as
already hinted, collector of the _derechos de consume_, or custom-house
dues. Hence he was the recipient of many a little present, as now and
then a basket of champagne or a dozen of Bordeaux.
His company had got fairly into the wine. The cura had thrown aside his
sanctity and become _human_ like the rest; the padres had forgotten
their sackcloth and bead-roll, and the senior of them, Padre Joaquin,
entertained the table with spicy adventures which had occurred to him
_before_ he became a monk. Echevarria related anecdotes of Paris, with
many adventures he had encountered among the grisettes.
The Spanish officers being the hosts were, of course, least talkative,
though the Comandante--vain as any young sub who wore his epaulettes for
the first time--could not refrain from alluding occasionally to his
terrible list of _bonnes fortunes_ among the fair Sevillanas. He had
long been stationed at the city of oranges, and "la gracia Andalusiana"
was ever his theme of admiration.
Roblado believed in the belles of the Havannah, and descanted upon the
plump, material beauty which is characteristic of the Quadroons; while
the lieutenant expressed his _penchant_ for the small-footed
_Guadalaxarenas_--not of old Spain, but of the rich Mexican province
Guadalaxara. _He_ had been quartered there.
So ran the talk--rough and ribald--upon that delicate theme--woman. The
presence of the trio of churchmen was no restraint. On the contrary,
both padres and cura boasted of their _liaisons_ with as much bawd and
brass as the others, for padres and cura were both as depraved as any of
their dining companions. Any little reserve either might have shown
upon ordinary occasions had disappeared after a few cups of wine; and
none of them feared the company, which, on its part, stood as little in
awe of them. The affectation of sanctity and self-denial was meant only
for the simple poblanos and the simpler peons of the settlement. At the
dinner-table it was occasionally assumed by one or the other, but only
by way of joke,--to give point and piquancy to the relation of some
adventure. In the midst of the conversation, which had grown somewhat
general and confused, a name was pronounced which produced a momentary
silence. That name was "Carlos the cibolero."
At the mention of this name several countenances changed expression.
Roblado was seen to frown; on Vizcarra's face were portrayed mixed
emotions; and both padres and cura seemed to know the name unfavourably.
It was the beau Echevarria who had mentioned it.
"'Pon the honour of a cavallero! the most impudent thing I ever
witnessed in all my life, even in republican Paris! A fellow,--a demned
trader in hides and tasajo--in short, a butcher of demned buffaloes to
aspire--_Parbleu_!"
Echevarria, though talking Spanish, always swore in French. It was more
polite.
"Most insolent--intolerable!" cried several voices.
"I don't think the lady seemed over angry withal," remarked a blunt
young fellow, who sat near the lower end of the table.
A chorus of voices expressed dissent from this opinion. Roblado's was
the loudest.
"Don Ramon Diaz," said he, addressing himself to the young fellow, "you
certainly could not have observed very carefully on that occasion. I
who was beside the lady know that she was filled with disgust--" (this
was a lie, and Roblado knew it), "and her father--"
"Oh, her _father_, yes!" cried Don Ramon, laughing. "Any one could see
that _he_ was angry--that was natural enough. Ha! ha!"
"But who is the fellow?" inquired one.
"A splendid rider," replied Don Ramon. "The Comandante will admit
that." And the free speaker looked at Vizcarra with a smile of
intelligence. The latter frowned at the observation.
"You lost a good sum, did you not?" inquired the cura of Vizcarra.
"Not to him," replied the Comandante, "but to that vulgar fellow who
seems his friend. The worst of it is, when one bets with these low
people there is no chance of getting a _revanche_ at some other time.
One cannot meet them in the ordinary way."
"But who is the fellow?" again inquired one.
"Who? Why, a cibolero--that's all."
"True, but is there nothing about his history? He's a _gilero_, and
that is odd for a native! Is he a Criollo? He might be a Biscayan."
"Neither one nor the other. 'Tis said he's an Americano."
"Americano!"
"Not exactly that--his father was; but the padre here can tell all about
him."
The priest thus appealed to entertained the company with some facts in
the history of the cibolero. His father had been an Americano, as it
was supposed--some stray personage who had mysteriously found his way to
the valley and settled in it long ago. Such instances were rare in the
settlements of New Mexico; but what was rarer still, in this case the
"Americano" was accompanied by an "Americana"--the mother of Carlos--and
the same old woman who attracted so much attention on the day of San
Juan. All the efforts of the padres to christianise either one or the
other had been in vain. The old trapper--for such he was--died as he
had lived--a blaspheming "heretico;" and there was a general belief in
the settlement that his widow held converse with the devil. All this
was a scandal to the Church, and the padres would long since have
expelled the guero family, but that, for some reason or other, they were
protected by the old Comandante--Vizcarra's predecessor--who had
restrained the zealous priests in their good intention.
"But, caballeros!" said the padre, glancing towards Vizcarra, "such
heretics are dangerous citizens. In them lie the seeds of revolution
and social disturbance; and when this guero is at home, he is seen only
in the company of those we cannot watch too closely: he has been seen
with some of the suspected Tagnos, several of whom are in his service."
"Ha! with them, indeed!" exclaimed several. "A dangerous fellow!--he
should be looked after."
The sister of the cibolero now became the subject of conversation; and
as remarks were made more or less complimentary to her beauty, the
expression upon the face of Vizcarra kept constantly changing. That
villain was more interested in the conversation than his guests were
aware, and he had already formed his plans. Already his agents were out
on the accomplishment of his atrocious designs.
The transition from the cibolero's sister to the other belles of the
place, and to the subject of woman in general, was natural; and the
company were soon engaged in their original conversation, which, under
the influence of additional wine, grew more "racy" than ever.
The scene ended by several of the party becoming "boracho;" and the
night being now far advanced, the guests took their leave, some of them
requiring to be conducted to their homes. A soldier apiece accompanied
the cura and padres, all three of whom were as "drunk as lords;" and it
was no new thing for them.