Gustave Aimard
The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life

CHAPTER XV
DON MELCHIOR

We will substitute our narrative for that of the ranchero, who, indeed, was ignorant of many of the details, only knowing the facts which had related to himself. We will go back to the precise moment when Oliver – for the reader has of course recognised him in Don Jaime – parted from Doña Dolores and the Count, at a distance of about two leagues from the hacienda del Arenal. Doña Dolores and the persons who accompanied her, did not reach the hacienda till a few minutes before sunset. Don Andrés, alarmed by this lengthened ride, received them with marks of the most lively joy: but he had noticed them a long way off, and on seeing Leo Carral with them, he had been reassured.

"Do not remain any longer out of doors, Count," he said to Ludovic, with a thoroughly paternal anxiety. "I can understand all the pleasure you of course feel in galloping by the side of that madcap, Dolores; but you do not know this country, and may lose your way. Moreover, the roads are at this moment infested with marauders belonging to all the parties that divide the unhappy republic; and these pícaros have no more scruple in firing at a gentleman, than in killing a coyote."

"I believe your fears are exaggerated, sir: we have had a delightful ride, and nothing of a suspicious nature has occurred to trouble it."

While conversing, they proceeded to the dining hall, where dinner was served up. The meal was silent, as usual, save that the ice seemed to be broken between the young lady and young man; and – what they had never done before – they now talked together!

Don Melchior was gloomy and restrained, as usual, and ate without saying a word; only now and then, evidently astonished at the good understanding that seemed to prevail between his sister and the French gentleman, he turned his head toward them, giving them glances of a singular expression; but the young people feigned not to remark them, and continued their conversation in a low voice. Don Andrés was radiant. In his joy he spoke loudly, addressed everybody, and ate and drank heartily. When they rose from table, Ludovic checked the old gentleman, as they were taking leave.

"Pardon me," he said; "but I should like a word with you."

"I am at your orders," Don Andrés replied.

"Good heavens! I do not know how to explain it to you, sir. I am afraid I have acted rather lightly, and have committed an offence against propriety."

"You, Count!" Don Andrés remarked, with a smile; "You will permit me not to believe it."

"I thank you for the good opinion you have of me; still I must make you the judge of what I have done."

"In that case, be kind enough to explain yourself."

"This is the matter, in two words, sir. Thinking that I was going straight to Mexico, for I was ignorant of your presence here – "

"Quite true; go on."

"Well, I wrote to an intimate friend of mine, an attaché of the French Legation, to inform him, first, of my arrival, and in the next place, to beg him to take the trouble of finding me rooms. Now, this friend, whose name is Baron Charles de Meriadec, and who belongs to a very old French family, kindly assented to my request, and prepared, to obtain me what I wanted. While this was going on, I learned you were living at this hacienda, and you were kind enough to offer me your hospitality. I immediately wrote to the Baron to stop the affair, because I should doubtless remain a considerable period with you."

"By accepting my hospitality, Count, you gave me a proof of friendship and confidence, for which I am extremely grateful."

"I believed that all was settled with my friend, sir; when, this morning, I received a note from him, in which he tells me that he has obtained leave, and intends to spend his holiday with me."

"Ah! ¡Caramba!" Don Andrés exclaimed, joyously; "The idea is delightful, and I shall thank your friend for it."

"Then you do not consider him rather unceremonious?"

"What do you mean by unceremonious, Count?" Don Andrés quickly interrupted; "are you not almost my son-in-law?"

"But I am not so yet, sir."

"It will not be long first, thank Heaven: hence, you are at home here, and at liberty to receive your friends."

"Even if they were a thousand in number," Don Melchior, who had overheard the conversation, said with a sardonic smile.

The Count pretended to believe the young man's kindly intention, and answered him with a bow.

"I thank you, sir, for joining your father in this matter; for it is a proof of the good will you are kind enough to display towards me, whenever the opportunity is afforded you."

Don Melchior understood the sarcasm hidden under these words. He bowed stiffly, and withdrew with a growl.

"And when does the Baron de Meriadec arrive Don Andrés continued.

"Well, sir, you confuse me; but as I must confess everything, I believe that he will arrive tomorrow morning."

"All the better. Is he a young man?"

"About my own age, sir. But I must inform you that he speaks Spanish very badly, and hardly understands it."

"He will find persons here to whom he can talk French: but you were right to warn me; if not, we might have been taken unawares. I will give orders to prepare rooms for him this very night."

"Pardon me, sir, but I should be truly sorry to cause you the slightest derangement."

"Oh! Do not trouble yourself about that. There is no lack of room, thank goodness; and we shall easily manage to put him in comfortable quarters."

"That is not what I mean. I know your splendid hospitality, but I think it would be better to place the Baron near me, for my servants could wait on him, and my apartments are large."

"But that will bore you horribly."

"Not at all: on the contrary, I have more rooms than I want: he will take one: in this way we shall be able to talk together at our ease, whenever we please: as we have not seen each other for two years, we shall have plenty to talk about."

"Do you press it, Count?"

"I am in your house, sir, and hence cannot press anything: I only make a request."

"Since that is the case, Count, it shall be done according to your wish: this evening with your permission, everything shall be put in order."

Ludovic hereupon took leave of Don Andrés, and retired to his apartments; but almost immediately after him came peons loaded with furniture, who in a few minutes converted his drawing room into a comfortable bed room. The Count, so soon as he was alone with his valet, informed him of all it was necessary for him to know, so that he might play his part in such a way as not to make a blunder, since he had been at the meeting and seen Dominique. At about nine o'clock on the next morning, the Count was informed that a rider, dressed in the European fashion and followed by an arriero, driving two mules loaded with trunks and portemanteaux was approaching the hacienda. Ludovic had no doubt that it was Dominique, and hence hurried to the hacienda gate: Don Andrés was already there to do the honour to the stranger.

The Count in his heart felt some anxiety as to the way in which the vaquero would wear his European dress, so tight and warm and for that very reason so difficult to wear with ease: but he was almost immediately reassured at the sight of the handsome, proud young man who advanced, managing his horse gracefully, and having over his whole person an incontestable stamp of distinction. For a moment he doubted whether this elegant cavalier was the same man he had seen on the previous day, and whose frank but trivial manner had caused him fears about the part he was undertaking to play, but he was soon convinced that it was really Dominique who was before.

The two young men greeted each other with marks of the most lively friendship, and then the Count introduced his friend to Don Andrés.

The hacendero, delighted with the good looks and appearance of the young man, gave him a most cordial greeting, and then the Count and the Baron retired, followed by the arriero, who was no other than Loïck the ranchero. So soon as the mules were unloaded, and the trunks were placed in the apartments, the Baron – for we will temporarily give him the title – gave a generous fee to the arriero who most heartily thanked him and hastened away with his mules, as he did not care to remain too long at the hacienda, through fear of seeing some face he knew.

When the two young men were alone, they placed Raimbaut on sentry in the outer room, to prevent a surprise: and withdrawing into the Count's bed chamber, they began a long and earnest conversation during which Ludovic gave the Baron a species of biography of the persons with whom he was going to live for some time: he dwelt more especially on Don Melchior, whom he urged him to distrust, and recommended him not to forget that he merely understood a few words of Spanish, and did not understand it: this point was essential.

"I have lived a long time with the Redskins," the young man answered, "and have profited by the lessons I received of them: you will be surprised at the perfection with which I shall play my part."

"I confess that I am surprised already, you have completely deceived my expectations: I was far from believing in such a result."

"You flatter me: I will try always to merit your approbation."

"By the way, my dear Charles," the Count continued with a smile, "we are old friends, college chums."

"Of course, we knew each other when children," the other replied in the same key.

"Very well then, do not forget."

Upon this, the two young men shook hands cordially, laughing like schoolboys home for the holidays. A portion of the day was thus spent without further incident than the introduction of Baron Charles de Meriadec, by his friend Count Louis de Saulay, to Doña Dolores, and her brother, Don Melchior de la Cruz, a double introduction in which the Baron behaved like a practised comedian.

Doña Dolores returned a graceful and encouraging smile for the compliment which the young man considered himself obliged to pay her. Don Melchior contented himself with a silent bow, while giving him an ugly look from under his eyelashes.

"Hum," the Baron said when he found himself again alone with the Count, "that Don Melchior appears to me to be an ugly customer."

"I entirely share that opinion," the Count answered distinctly.

At about three in the afternoon, Doña Dolores sent to ask the young men if they would do her the honour of offering her their company for a few moments: they eagerly accepted and hastened to join her. They crossed Don Melchior in the courtyard: the young man did not speak to them, but looked after them till they had entered his sister's apartments.

A month passed, and nothing occurred to disturb the monotonous existence of the inhabitants of the hacienda.

The Count and his friend frequently went out, accompanied by the majordomo, either to shoot or simply for a ride; sometimes, though rarely, Doña Dolores accompanied them.

Now that the Count was no longer alone with her, she seemed to be less afraid of meeting him and at times even to take pleasure in it: she favourably accepted his gallantries, smiled at the sallies that escaped from him and under all circumstances, evidenced perfect confidence in him. But it was more especially to the pretended Count that she displayed a marked preference, either because knowing what he really was, she considered him of no importance, or because, through a pure caprice of feminine coquetry, she liked to sport with this native, whose indomitable energy she did not suspect, and wished to try the power of her charms on the simple young man.

Dominique did not perceive, or pretended not to perceive, the young lady's manoeuvres: though exquisitely polite to her and most attentive, he still remained within the strict limits he had laid down for himself, not wishing to render a man jealous, for whom he professed a sincere friendship, and whom he knew to be on the point of marrying Doña Dolores.

As for Don Melchior, his character had grown more and more sombre, his absences had become longer and more frequent, and on the rare occasions when accident brought him across the young men, he returned their bow silently, without deigning to say a syllable to them: in a word, the repugnance he had felt for them from the outset, had changed with the course of time into a good and hearty Mexican hatred.

In the meanwhile, political events pressed on with ever increasing rapidity: Juárez' troops seriously occupied the country: already scouts belonging to his party had appeared in the neighbourhood of the hacienda: people talked vaguely of Spanish chateaux taken by assault, plundered, burnt, and whose owners had been cowardly assassinated by the guerilleros. The anxiety was great at Arenal: Don Andrés de la Cruz, who was not reassured as to the future by the fact of his being a Spaniard, took the most extensive precautions not to be surprized by the enemy. The question of abandoning the hacienda and retiring to Puebla had even been agitated several times, but had constantly been obstinately repelled by Don Melchior.

Still, the strange conduct which the young man displayed ever since the Count had been at the hacienda, his affectation of keeping aloof, his long and frequent absences, and, more than all, the recommendations of Don Oliver, whose mistrust doubtless aroused a long time before, and based on facts known to himself alone, had led to Dominique's presence at the hacienda under the name of Baron de Mireadec, aroused the suspicions of Count de Saulay, suspicions to which the antipathy he had felt for Don Melchior since the first day of seeing him, almost gave the strength of certainty.

The Count, after ripe reflections, resolved to communicate his anxiety to Dominique and Leo Carral, when one evening on entering the patio he met Don Melchior on horseback proceeding to the hacienda gate. The Count then asked himself why, at so advanced an hour (it was about nine o'clock at night), Don Melchior ventured on a moonless night to go alone into the country, at the risk of falling into an ambush of Juárez' guerilleros, whose scouts, as he was perfectly well aware, had been prowling round the hacienda for some days past.

This fresh departure of the young man, for which there was no apparent motive, dissipated the Count's last doubts, and confirmed him in the resolution of immediately taking counsel with his two friends.

At this moment Leo Carral crossed the patio and Ludovic called to him.

The majordomo ran up directly.

"Where are you going now?" the Count asked.

"I can hardly tell your Excellency," the majordomo answered. "This evening I feel more anxious than usual, and I am going to pay a visit to the neighbourhood of the hacienda."

"Can it be foreboding?" the Count said pensively. "Will you let me accompany you?"

"I purpose going out and beating up the country a little," No Leo Carral continued.

"Very good: have my horse and Don Carlos' saddled, we will join you in an instant."

"Mind, Excellency, not to take any servants, but do our business ourselves. I have a plan, so let us avoid all chances of treachery."

"Agreed: in ten minutes we will be with you."

"You will find your horses at the gate of the first court. I need not recommend you to be armed."

"All right."

The Count went to his apartment. Dominique was soon told of the state of affairs; both left the apartments directly after and found the majordomo, who, already mounted, was waiting for them at the open gate of the hacienda. They leapt on their horses and rode out in silence. The hacienda gate was gently closed after them. They went down the incline that led to the plain at a sharp trot.

"Eh," the Count said a minute after, "what is the meaning of this? Are we mounted on spectral steeds, that produce no sound in moving?"

"Speak lower, Excellency," the majordomo remarked, "we are probably surrounded by spies; as for the thing that perplexes you so, it is only a very simple precaution; your horse's hoofs are thrust into sheepskin bags filled with sand."

"Hang it!" Ludovic replied, "It seems, then, that we are on a secret expedition."

"Yes, Excellency, secret and most important."

"What is it?"

"I suspect Don Melchior."

"But remember, friend, that he is the son and heir of Don Andrés."

"Yes, but as we say on the wrong side of the blanket; his mother was a Lapotheque Indian, with whom, I do not know why, my master fell in love, for she was neither beautiful, nor good, nor witty; however, the result of their connection was a child, and that child is Don Melchior. The mother died in childbirth, imploring Don Andrés not to abandon the poor creature; my master promised it, recognised the boy, and brought him up as if he had been legitimate, and a few years later induced his wife to receive him into the family. He was thus brought up as if he were really a legitimate son, the more so, that Doña Lucca de la Cruz died, only leaving her husband a daughter."

"Ah! Ah!" said the Count, "I am beginning to get a glimpse of the truth."

"All went on well for some years; Don Melchior, most kindly treated by his father, gradually came to persuade himself that on the death of Don Andrés the paternal fortune would fall to him; but about a year ago my master received a letter, after reading which he had a long and serious explanation with his son.

"Yes, yes, that letter reminded him of the marriage plan arranged between his family and mine, and announced my speedy arrival."

"Probably, Excellency; but nothing transpired of what took place between father and son, except it was noticed that Don Melchior, who is not naturally of a gay temper, became from that period gloomy and morose, seeking solitude, and only addressing his father when absolutely compelled. Although he had hitherto rarely left the hacienda, he now began to have a wild liking for the chase, and often stayed away for several days; your sudden arrival at the hacienda, when he doubtless never expected to see you, augmented his ill-feeling to a frightful extent, and I am convinced that in his despair at losing the inheritance he has so long coveted, he will not hesitate before anything, even a crime, to seize on it. This, Excellency, was what I thought it my duty to tell you. Heaven knows that if I have spoken, it was solely from a pure motive."

"Everything is now explained to me, No Leo Carral. I am, like yourself, persuaded that Melchior meditates some odious treachery against the man to whom he owes everything, and who is his father."

"Well," said Dominique, "do you wish to know my opinion? If the opportunity presents itself, it will be a pious task to lodge a bullet in his wicked brain; the world will in that way get rid of a frightful villain."

"Amen!" said the Count, with a laugh.

At this moment they reached the plain.

"Excellency, here the difficulties of the enterprise we are about to undertake really commence," the majordomo then said; "we must act with the most extreme prudence, and, above all, avoid revealing our presence to the invisible spies by whom we are indubitably surrounded."

"Fear nothing, we shall be dumb as fishes; go on ahead without fear; we will prowl on your track after the fashion of Indians on the war path."

The majordomo took the head of the file, and they began advancing rather rapidly along the paths which were entangled together, and formed an inextricable network for anyone but Leo Carral.

As we have already stated, the night was moonless, and the sky black as ink. A profound silence, interrupted at long intervals by the shrill cries of the night birds, brooded over the country.

They continued to advance thus without exchanging a word for about half an hour, and then the majordomo halted.

"We have arrived," he said in a low voice; "get off your horses, we are in safety here."

"Do you think so?" said Dominique; "I fancied during the march the cries of night birds too well imitated to be true."

"You are right," Leo Carral answered; "they are the enemy's sentries challenging each other; we have been scented, but thanks to the night and my acquaintance with the roads, we have temporarily, at any rate thrown out those who started in pursuit of us, they are seeking us in a direction opposed to the one in which we are."

"That is what I fancied I could understand," Dominique remarked.

The Count eagerly listened to this conversation, but to no effect, for what the two men said was Hebrew to him; for the first time since he had been in the world, accident placed him in a situation so singular; hence he was completely deficient in experience; he was far from suspecting that he had passed through all the outposts of a hostile camp; had been within pistol shot of sentinels ambuscaded on the right and left, and had escaped death perhaps twenty times by a miracle.

"Señores, take the bags off the horses, as they ace no longer wanted, while I light a torch of ocote wood," Leo Carral then said.

The young men obeyed, for they tacitly recognised the majordomo as the leader of the expedition.

"Well, is it done?" the majordomo asked a moment after.

"Yes," the Count answered, "but we cannot see anything; are you not going to light your torch?"

"It is lighted, but it would be too imprudent to show a light here; follow me, drawing your horses after you by the bridle."

He went in front again as guide, and they advanced once more, but this time on foot.

Ere long a light glistened in front of them, and illuminated them sufficiently to enable them to distinguish surrounding objects.

They were in a natural grotto; this grotto opened at the end of a passage, sufficiently winding for the light of the torch not to be seen from the outside.

"Where the deuce are we?" the Count asked, in surprise.

"As you see, Excellency, in a grotto."

"Very good, but you had a reason for bringing us here."

"Certainly I had one, Excellency, and the reason is as follows: this grotto communicates with the hacienda, by a very long subterraneous passage; this passage has several issues into the country, and two into the hacienda itself; of the latter two, one is known to myself alone, and the other I stopped up this very day; but fearing less Don Melchior might have discovered this grotto during his rides, I determined to visit it tonight, and solidly wall it up inside, so as to prevent a surprise in this way."

"Famously reasoned, No Leo Carral; there is no want of stones, so we will set to work as soon as you like."

"One moment, Excellency, let us make certain first that other persons have not got here before us."

"Hum! That appears to me rather difficult."

"You think so," he said, with a slight tinge of irony in his voice.

He took the torch which he had placed on an angle and stooped down to the ground, but almost immediately rose again, uttering a cry of fury.

"What is it?" the two young men exclaimed anxiously.

"Look," he said, pointing to the ground.

The Count looked.

"We are foiled," he said, a moment after; "it is too late."

"But, explain yourself in Heaven's name," the Count exclaimed, "I do not understand what you are saying."

"Stay, my dear fellow," said Dominique, "do you not see how the ground is trampled? Do you not notice the footsteps going in all directions?"

"Well."

"Well, my poor friend, these footsteps were left by the men probably led by Don Melchior, who have taken this road to enter the hacienda, where they probably are by this time."

"No," the majordomo remarked, "the footsteps are quite fresh: they only entered a few minutes before us. The advance they have is nothing, for on reaching the end of the passage, they will have to destroy the wall I built, and it is substantial. Let us not be discouraged yet, therefore, perhaps Heaven will permit us to reach the hacienda in time; come, follow me, make haste, and leave your horse; ah, it was Heaven that inspired me not to touch the second outlet."

Then, waving the torch to revise the flame, the majordomo ran along a side gallery, followed by the two young men. The subterraneous passage rose with a gentle ascent; the road they had followed to reach the grotto, wound round the hill on which the hacienda was built; besides, they had been obliged to make numerous circuits, and march circumspectly, that is to say, rather slowly, through fear of being surprised, which had demanded a considerable lapse of time; but now this was no longer the case, they ran on in a straight line and they accomplished in less than a quarter of an hour, what, on horseback had required nearly an hour, and reached the garden.

The hacienda was silent.

"Wake your servants, while I ring the alarm bell," said the majordomo, "possibly we may save the hacienda."

He ran to the bell, whose sonorous peals soon aroused the inhabitants of the hacienda, who ran up, half dressed, not at all understanding what was going on.

"To arms, to arms!" shouted the Count, and his two companions.

In a few words Don Andrés was informed of the state of matters, and while he had his daughter guarded in her rooms, by some devoted attendants, and organized the defence as well as circumstances permitted him, the majordomo, followed by the two young men and their servants, dashed into the garden.

Ludovic and Dolores had only exchanged one word.

"I am going to my father," she said.

"I will join you there."

"I shall expect you, no one but you will approach me?"

"I swear it."

"Thanks."

And they separated. On reaching the garden, the five men distinctly heard the hurried blows which the assailants were dealing on the wall.

They ambushed themselves within pistol shot of the issue, behind a clump of trees and shrubs.

"But, these people must be bandits," the Count exclaimed, "to come in this way to pillage honest people."

"Of course they are bandits," Dominique replied, "you will soon see them at work, and no longer have a doubt on the subject."

"In that case, attention," said the Count, "and let us receive them as they deserve."

In the meanwhile, the blows were redoubled in the passage; ere long one stone was detached, then a second, then a third, and a rather large breach was opened in the wall. The guerilleros, dashed forward with a shout of joy, which was at once turned into a yell of pain. Five shots, blended in one, had exploded like a formidable clap of thunder.

The battle was beginning.