Gustave Aimard
The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life

CHAPTER X
THE MEETING

Ever since Count de la Saulay's arrival at the hacienda del Arenal, Doña Dolores had treated him with a degree of reserve which the marriage projects made by the two families were far from justifying. The young lady had not only had no private interviews with the man whom she ought to consider to some extent her betrothed, but had not indulged in the slightest intimacy, or most innocent familiarity; while remaining polite, and even gracious, she had contrived, ever since the first day they met, to raise a barrier between herself and the Count – a barrier which he had never attempted to scale, and which had condemned him to remain, perhaps against his secret wishes, within the limits of the strictest reserve.

In these conditions, and especially after the scene at which he had been present on the previous evening, we can easily understand what the stupefaction of the young man must be on learning that Doña Dolores requested an interview with him. What could she have to say to him? For what motive did she grant him this meeting? What reason impelled her to act thus? Such were the questions which the Count did not cease to ask himself – questions which necessarily remained unanswered. Hence the young man's anxiety, curiosity, and impatience, were aroused to the highest degree, and it was with a feeling of joy, which he could not fully explain, that he at length heard the hour for the interview strike. Had he been in Paris instead of a Mexican hacienda, he would have certainly known beforehand what he had to expect from the message he had received, and his conduct would have been regulated beforehand.

But here the coldness of Doña Dolores toward him – a coldness which had never once thawed – the preference which after the last night's scene she seemed to give to another person, all combined to deprive this interview of the slightest supposition of love. Was it his renunciation of her hand, and immediate retirement, that Doña Dolores was about to request of him?

Singular contradiction of the human mind! The Count, who felt for this marriage a repulsion more and more marked, whose formal intention it was to have, as soon as possible, an explanation on this subject with Don Andrés de la Cruz, and whose firm resolution it was to withdraw, and renounce the alliance so long prepared, and which displeased him the more because it was forced on him – revolted at the supposition of this renunciation, which, without doubt, Doña Dolores was going to ask him; his wounded self-esteem made him regard this question under a perfectly new light, and the contempt which the young lady seemed to feel for his hand, filled him with shame and anger.

He, Count Ludovic de la Saulay, young, handsome, rich, renowned for his wit and elegance, one of the most distinguished members of the jockey club, one of the gods of fashion, whose conquests occupied every mouth in Paris, had produced on a half wild girl no other impression but that of repulsion, had inspired no other feeling but a cold indifference. There was certainly something desperate about this; for an instant he went so far as to fancy – for anger blinded him to such an extent – that he was really in love with his cousin, and he was on the point of swearing to remain deaf to the tears and supplications of Doña Dolores, and insisting on the completion of the marriage within the shortest period possible. But fortunately the pride which had urged him to this determination suddenly suggested to him a more simple, and assuredly more agreeable way to escape from the embarrassment.

After taking a complacent glance at his person, a smile of haughty satisfaction lit up his face; he found himself both physically and morally so immeasurably above his surroundings, that he only felt a sort of merciful pity for the poor girl whom the bad education she had received prevented from appreciating the numberless advantages which gave him a superiority over his rivals, or understanding the happiness she would find in an alliance with him.

While revolving all these, and many other thoughts, the Count left his rooms, crossed the courtyard, and proceeded to the apartments of Doña Dolores. He remarked, though without attaching much importance to the fact, that several saddle horses were waiting in the court, held by peons. At the door of the apartments stood a young Indian girl with pretty face, and sparkling eyes, who greeted him with a smile and a profound courtesy, as she made him a sign to enter. The Count followed her; the waiting maid passed through several elegantly furnished rooms, and finally raised a curtain of white China crape, embroidered with large flowers of every hue, and introduced the Count, without saying a word, into a delightful boudoir, furnished throughout with China lace.

Doña Dolores, half-reclining on a hammock of aloe fibre, was amusing herself with teasing a pretty parrot half the size of her hand, and was laughing heartily at the little creature's cries of fury.

The young lady was charming, thus: the Count had never seen her so lovely. After bowing deeply to her, he stopped in the door, experiencing an admiration mingled with such great stupefaction, that Doña Dolores after looking at him for a moment, could not retain her seriousness, but burst out into a silvery peal of laughter.

"Forgive me, cousin," she said to him, "but you look so singular at this moment, that I could not help – "

"Laugh, laugh, my fair cousin," the young man replied, resolved to share this gaiety which he was so far from expecting, "I am delighted to find you in such good humour."

"Do not stay there, cousin," she continued, "set down here near me in this butaca," and with her pink finger she pointed to an armchair.

The young man obeyed.

"Cousin," he said, "I have the honour of obeying the invitation which you deigned to send me."

"Ah, that is true," she answered; "I thank you for your kindness, and more especially for your punctuality, cousin."

"I could not display too great eagerness in obeying you, cousin, I have so rarely the happiness of seeing you."

"Is that a reproach you are addressing to me, cousin?"

"Oh, by no means, Madam. I in no way claim the right of offering you what you are pleased to call reproaches: you are at liberty to act as you please, and to dispose of me."

"Oh, oh, my dear cousin, I fancy if I were disposed to make trial of this noble devotion, I should expose myself to shame and you would refuse me point blank."

"Now we have it," the young man thought and added aloud, "it is my most sincere desire to please you in everything, cousin. I pledge you my word as a gentleman, and no matter what you may ask of me, I will obey you."

"I am much inclined to take you at your word, Don Ludovic," she said, leaning down to him with a delicious smile.

"Do so, cousin, and you will see from my promptitude in obeying you, that I am the most devoted of your slaves."

The young lady remained pensive for a moment, then putting back on its rosewood perch the parrot with which she had been playing up till now, she leaped from her hammock, and seated herself a short distance from the Count.

"Cousin," she said to him, "I have a service to ask of you."

"Of me? At length I shall be of some use to you."

"This service," she continued, "is not of great importance in itself."

"All the worse."

"But I fear, lest it may cause you great annoyance."

"What matter, cousin, the annoyance I may experience, if I can be of service to you."

"Cousin, I thank you, this is the affair: I must take a rather long ride today, for reasons you will soon appreciate. I cannot and will not be accompanied by any of the inhabitants of the hacienda, whether masters or servants. Still, as the roads are not, at this moment, perfectly secure, and I dare not venture to traverse them alone, I want with me, in order to protect and defend me if necessary, a peon whose presence at my side could not give rise to any malevolent suppositions. I have thought of you as my companion on this expedition. Do you consent, cousin?"

"With delight: I would merely remark that I am a stranger to this country, and might lose my way on roads I am unacquainted with."

"Do not trouble yourself about that, cousin, I am a native of the country, and have no fear about losing my way for fifty leagues round."

"If that is the case, cousin, all is for the best: I thank you for the honour you deign to do me, and place myself completely at your disposal."

"It is for me to thank you, cousin, for your extreme kindness; the horses are saddled, the Mexican garb becomes you admirably, go and put on your spurs, warn your valet that he will have to accompany you, and fetch your weapons: that is an important point, for you never know what may happen, and come back in ten minutes, when I shall be ready for you."

The Count rose, bowed to the young lady, who responded by a gracious smile, and left the room.

"By Jove," he muttered as soon as he was alone, "this is delightful, and the duty she intends for me is most satisfactory. I fancy I am simply accompanying my delightful cousin to some love appointment. But how was it possible to refuse her anything! I never saw her looking so lovely as today. On my soul, she is a charming fay, and unless I take care, I may end by falling in love with her, unless I have done so already," he added with a stifled sigh.

He returned to his rooms ordered Raimbaut to get ready to follow him, which the worthy valet did with the punctuality and silence that distinguished him, and after buckling on his heavy silver spurs, and throwing a zarapé over his shoulders, he selected a double-barrelled gun, a straight sabre, a brace of revolvers, and thus armed went into the patio. Raimbaut followed his example, had laid in a complete arsenal. The two men were thus, without exaggeration, capable in case of need, to face fifteen bandits.

Doña Dolores, already mounted, was talking with her father while awaiting the Count's arrival. Don Andrés de la Cruz was rubbing his hands in delight, the good understanding between the young people charmed him.

"So you are going to take a ride?" he said to the Count; "I wish you all possible pleasure."

"The señorita has deigned to offer to accompany me," Ludovic answered.

"She has acted admirably, for her choice could not be better."

While exchanging these few words with his future papa-in-law, the Count had mounted.

"A pleasant trip," continued Don Andrés, "and mind you are careful whom you meet, Juárez' cuadrillas are beginning to prowl about the neighbourhood, so I have been informed."

"Do not be alarmed, papa," Doña Dolores replied; "besides," she added with a charming smile aimed at the young man, "under my cousin's escort I fear nothing."

"Be off then and get back early."

"We shall return before the oración, papa."

Don Andrés gave them a last farewell nod, and they left the hacienda. The Count and the young lady galloped side by side. Raimbaut, as a well trained servant, followed a few paces in the rear.

"I will act as your guide, cousin," the young lady said, when they had ridden some distance out into the plain and were lost among clumps of liquidambars.

"I could not desire a better one," Ludovic answered gallantly.

"Stay, cousin," she resumed, giving him a side glance, "I have a confession to make to you."

"A confession, cousin?"

"Yes, I see you are such a good fellow, that I feel ashamed at having deceived you."

"You deceived me, cousin?"

"Shamefully," she said with a laugh, "as you shall judge. I am leading you to a spot where we are expected."

"Where you are expected, you mean."

"No, because it is you they want especially to see."

"I confess, cousin, that I do not understand you at all: I know no one in this country."

"Are you quite sure of that, my dear cousin?" she asked with a mocking air.

"Well, I believe so at least."

"Then, you are beginning to doubt."

"You seem so sure of your fact."

"I am so, indeed: the person who expects you, not only knows you, but is a friend of yours."

"Very good, this makes the matter more puzzling than ever: go on, I beg."

"I have but very little to add, besides, in a few minutes we shall have arrived, and I do not wish to keep you in doubt any longer."

"That is very kind of you, cousin, I declare. I am humbly waiting till you deign to explain."

"I must do so, as your head has such a bad memory. What, sir, you are but a foreigner, who had been but a little while in a strange land. In this country, so soon as you landed, you met one man who displayed some sympathy with you, and you have already forgotten him. Permit me to remark, my dear cousin, that this offers but poor testimony to your constancy."

"Crush me, cousin, I deserve all your reproaches. You are right; there is really one man in Mexico for whom I feel a sincere friendship."

"Ah! Ah! Then I was not mistaken?"

"No; but I was so far from supposing that it was to him you alluded, that I confess – "

"That you no longer remembered him, eh?"

"On the contrary, cousin; and it would be my most eager desire to see him again."

"And what is this person's name?"

"He told me it was Oliver; still, I should not like to affirm that it is really his name."

The young man gave a meaning smile.

"Would it be indiscreet to ask you why you entertain this unfavourable supposition?"

"Not at all, cousin; but Señor Oliver appeared to me a very mysterious gentleman; his manners are not those of everybody. As I think, there would be nothing extraordinary if, according to circumstances – "

"He assumed a name," she interrupted. "Perhaps you are right – perhaps you are wrong – I could not answer that question; all I can tell you is, that he is the person who expects you."

"That is singular," the young man muttered.

"Why so? – He has doubtless an important communication to make to you; at least, so I understood."

"Did he tell you so?"

"Not precisely; but while conversing with me last night he displayed a desire to see you as soon as possible; that is the reason, cousin, why I asked you to accompany me on my ride."

This confession was made by the young lady in such simple faith that the Count was completely staggered by it, and looked at her for a moment as if he did not comprehend her. Doña Dolores did not notice his astonishment. With her hand placed as a screen over her eyes, she was examining the plain.

"Ah," she said a moment after, pointing in a certain direction, "look at those two men seated side by side in the shade of that clump of trees; one of these is Oliver, the person who expects you. Let us hurry on."

"Very good," Ludovic answered, spurring his horse.

And they galloped toward the two men, who, on perceiving them, had risen to receive them.

CHAPTER XI
IN THE PLAIN

Oliver and Dominique, after leaving the rancho, rode for a long time side by side without exchanging a word; the adventurer seemed to be reflecting, while for his part the vaquero, in spite of his apparent nonchalance, was greatly preoccupied. Dominique, or Domingo, according as he was called in French or Spanish, whose physical portrait we have sketched in a preceding chapter, was, morally, a strange mixture of good and bad instincts; still, we are bound to add, that the good nearly always gained the victory. The wandering life he had led for several years among the indomitable Indians of the prairie, had developed in him, beside a great personal strength, an force of will and energy of character, blended with a leonine courage and a degree of cleverness which might at times be taken for duplicity. Crafty and distrustful like a Comanche, he had transferred to civilized life all the practices of the wood rangers, never letting himself be taken unawares by the most unforeseen events, and opposing an impassive face to the most scrutinizing glances, he feigned a simplicity by which the cleverest persons were often deceived; added to this, he generally displayed a rare frankness, unbounded generosity, exquisite sensibility of heart, and carried his devotion to those he loved to the extremest limits, without reflection or afterthought; but on the other hand he was implacable in his hatreds, and possessed a true Indian ferocity. In one word, his was one of those strange natures as perfect for good as for evil, and whom opportunity can as easily make remarkable men as great villains.

Oliver had profoundly studied the extraordinary character of his protégé, hence he knew better than himself, perhaps, of what he was capable; and he had frequently shuddered on probing the hidden depths of this strange organization which did not know itself; and while imposing his will on the indomitable nature and making it bow as he pleased, still, like the imprudent beast tamer who plays with a tiger, he foresaw the moment when the lava boiling dully at the bottom of this young man's heart would suddenly burst forth under the impetuous blast of the passions; hence, in spite of the implicit confidence he seemed to have in his friend, it was with extreme care that he set certain chords vibrating in him, and he sedulously avoided giving him a consciousness of his strength, or revealing to him the extent of his moral power.

After a ride of some hours the travellers arrived about three leagues from the hacienda del Arenal, on the skirt of a rather thick wood that bordered the last plantations of the hacienda.

"Let us stop here and eat," Oliver said, as he dismounted; "this is our destination for the present."

"I am quite willing," Dominique answered; "this confounded sun falling virtually on my head since the morning, is beginning, I confess, to tire me, and I should not be sorry to lie down for a little while on the grass."

"In that case stand on no ceremony, comrade; the spot is glorious for a rest."

The two men hobbled their horses, which they unbridled, to let them browze at their ease; and after sitting down opposite each other under the protection of the dense foliage of the trees, they felt in their alforjas, which were well stocked with provisions, and began eating with good appetite. Neither of the men was a great speaker, hence they disposed of their meal in silence, and it was not till Oliver had lit a puro and Dominique his Indian calumet, that the former resolved to speak.

"Well, Dominique," he said to him, "what do you think of the life I have made you lead for the last five months in this province?"

"To tell you the truth," the vaquero replied, puffing out a dense cloud of smoke, "I consider it absurd and wearisome to the highest degree. I should long ago have requested you to send me back to the western prairies, had I not been convinced that you wanted me here."

Oliver burst into a laugh.

"You are true, friend," he said, as he offered him his hand, "ever ready to act without observation or comment."

"I flatter myself I am; for is not friendship composed of self-denial and devotedness?"

"Yes; and that is why it is so rarely met with in this world."

"I pity those who are incapable of experiencing the feeling, for they deprive themselves of a great enjoyment. Friendship is the only real link that attaches men to each other."

"Many believe that it is egotism."

"Egotism is only a variety of the species; it is friendship badly understood, and reduced to low proportions."

"Hang it! I did not fancy you were so strong in paradoxes. Did you learn these tricks of the tongue among the Indians?"

"The Indians are wise men, my master," the vaquero answered with a shake of the head; "with them the true is true, and the false false, while in your cities you have so well succeeded in embroiling everything, that the cleverest man could not find his way, while the simple man soon loses the feeling of justice and injustice. Let me return to the prairies, my friend, my place is not among the paltry contests that disgrace this country, and make my heart ache with disgust and pity."

"I would willingly restore you your liberty, my boy, but I repeat that I have need of you, perhaps for three months longer."

"Three months? That is very long."

"Perhaps you will find the period very short," he said, with a peculiar expression.

"I do not believe it."

"We shall see; but I have not told you yet what I want of you."

"That is true, and I had better know, so that I may fulfil your intentions properly."

"Listen to me then: I shall be the more brief, because when the persons I am expecting arrive, I shall give you more detailed instructions."

"Very good, go on."

"Two persons are going to join us here, a young man, and a young lady; the latter is Doña Dolores de la Cruz, daughter of the owner of the hacienda del Arenal: she is sixteen years of age, and very beautiful; she is a gentle, pure, and simple girl."

"Very good, but that does not concern me, for you know I trouble myself but slightly about squaws."

"That is true, so I will not dwell on the point: Doña Dolores is betrothed to Don Ludovic, who will marry her immediately."

"Much good may it do him; and who is Don Ludovic? Some Mexican, I suppose, stupid and proud, who prances like a canon's mule."

"In that you are mistaken; Don Ludovic is her cousin, Count Ludovic de la Saulay, belonging to the highest nobility in France."

"Ah, ah! He is the Frenchman in question?"

"Yes: he has come expressly from France to contract with his cousin this union which has long been arranged between the two families. Count Ludovic is a most agreeable gentleman, rich, kind, amiable, well educated, and obliging: in short, an excellent fellow, in whom I take the most sincere interest, and I wish you to attach yourself to him."

"If he is as you say, all right; before two days we shall be the best friends in the world."

"Thanks, Dominique, I expected no less from you."

"Eh," said the vaquero, "look there, Oliver, someone is coming, I fancy: hang it, they are riding fast, they will be on us in ten minutes."

"They are Doña Dolores and Count Ludovic."

They rose to go and receive the young people, who, in truth, were coming up at full speed.

"Here we are at last," the young lady said, as she stopped her horse, with the skill of a practised rider.

With one bound the newcomers reached the ground; after bowing to Dominique, the Count held out both hands to the adventurer.

"I see you again then, my friend," he said to him; "thanks for remembering me."

"Did you suppose I had forgotten you?"

"On my word," the young man said gaily, "I almost had the right to do so."

"My Lord Count," the adventurer then said, "permit me first of all to introduce to you M. Dominique, he is more than a brother, he is another self: I shall be pleased if you will transfer to him a small portion of the friendship you deign to testify to me."

"Sir," the Count replied, bowing gracefully to the vaquero, "I sincerely regret that I express myself so badly in Spanish, for it prevents me from proving to you the lively desire I feel to let you see the sympathy with which you have already inspired me."

"That is of no consequence, Sir," the vaquero replied in French "I speak your language fluently enough to thank you for your cordial language, for which I am most grateful."

"Ah, by Jove! Sir, you delight me; this is a charming surprise; pray, accept my hand, and consider me as entirely at your service."

"Most willingly, sir, and thank you; we shall soon know each other better, and then, you will reckon me, I hope, in the number of your friends."

After these words, the two young men warmly shook hands.

"Are you satisfied, my friend?" Doña Dolores asked.

"You are a fairy, dear child," Oliver replied with emotion; "you cannot imagine how happy you render me."

And he respectfully kissed the forehead which the young lady offered him. "Now," he continued, changing his tone, "let us turn to business, for time presses; but we are still one short."

"Who is it?" the young lady asked.

"Leo Carral: let me summon him;" and raising to his lips a silver whistle, he produced a shrill and long sustained note.

Almost immediately the galloping of a horse was heard in the distance, which rapidly drew nearer, and the majordomo soon appeared.

"Come on, come on, Leo," the adventurer shouted to him.

"Here I am, señor," the majordomo replied, "entirely at your orders."

"Listen to me attentively," Oliver resumed, addressing Doña Dolores; "the affair is serious, I am compelled to go away this very day: my absence may last for a long time; and hence it is impossible for me to watch over you: unfortunately I have a foreboding that an imminent danger threatens you, of what nature it is, or when it will burst on you, I am unable to say, but it is certain. Now, my dear Dolores, what I cannot do, others will do: these others are the Count, Dominique, and our friend Leo Carral, all three are devoted to you, and will watch over you like brothers."

"But, my friend," the young lady interrupted, "you forget, I think, my father and my brother."

"No, my child, I do not forget them, on the contrary, I bear them in mind: your father is an aged man, who not only cannot protect anyone, but needs protection himself, which in the case of need you will not fail to grant him. As for your brother, Don Melchior, you know, my dear girl, my opinion about him, and hence it is unnecessary to dwell on that point: he cannot, or will not defend you. You know that I am usually well informed, and am rarely mistaken; now, all of you carefully remember this; be most careful not to let Don Melchior or any other inhabitant of the hacienda suppose, either from your words or actions, that you foresee a misfortune; but watch carefully, so as not to let yourselves be surprised, and take your precautions accordingly."

"We will watch, trust to me," the vaquero replied; "but I have an objection to offer, my friend, which is not without justice."

"What is it?"

"How shall I manage to get into the hacienda and remain there without arousing suspicions? This appears to me rather difficult."

"No, you are mistaken; no one at the hacienda knows you but Leo Carral, I think?"

"That is true."

"Well, you will go there as a Frenchman, a friend of the Count de la Saulay; and for greater security you will pretend, not to understand a word of Spanish."

"Permit me," Ludovic observed, "I have spoken several times to Don Andrés about an intimate friend attached to the French Legation at Mexico, and whom I expect to visit me at the hacienda at any moment."

"Perfect, Dominique will pass for him, and if he likes, he can talk broken Spanish; what is the name of the friend you expect?"

"Charles de Meriadec."

"Very good, Dominique will christen himself so; while he is at the hacienda I will arrange that the man whose name he temporarily assumes, does not come to disturb him."

"Hum, that is important."

"Fear nothing, I will arrange it; so that is settled; and tomorrow Monsieur Charles de Meriadec will arrive at the hacienda."

"He will be well received then," Ludovic replied with a smile.

"As for you, Leo Carral, I have no recommendations to give you."

"No, no, my measures have been taken for a long time past," the majordomo replied; "I have only now to arrange with these gentlemen."

"All is going well, so now let us separate: I should have been a long way off by this time."

"Are you leaving us already, my friend?" Doña Dolores asked with emotion.

"I must, my child; be of good cheer, and have confidence in God; during my absence He will watch over you; farewell."

The adventurer pressed the Count's hand for the last time, kissed the young lady's forehead, and leapt into the saddle.

"Let me see you again soon," Doña Dolores said to him.

"Tomorrow you will see your friend Meriadec," Dominique said with a laugh, and he started at a gallop after the adventurer.

"Are you going back with us to the hacienda?" the Count asked the majordomo.

"Why not?" he replied; "I shall be supposed to have met you during your ride."

"That is true."

They remounted, and cantered toward the hacienda, which they reached a little before sunset.