The Gold-Seekers: A Tale of California

Doña Angela, though she had never tried to sound her father's impenetrable heart, had still divined the uncontrolled power she exercised over this haughty nature which crushed everything, but became suddenly weak and almost timid in her presence. The charming maid employed her power despotically, but ever with the intention of doing a good deed, as, for instance, to commute the sentence of a prisoner or succour the unfortunate; in a word, to render lighter the yoke of iron under which the general, with his feline manners, crushed his subordinates.

Thus the girl was as much adored by all those who approached her as the general was feared and hated. God had doubtlessly wished, in His ineffable goodness, to place an angel by the side of a demon, so that the wounds inflicted by the latter might be cured by the former.

Now that we have described these two persons to the best of our ability, whose characters will be more fully developed in the course of our story, we will resume our narrative at the point where we interrupted it.

CHAPTER IX
THE NEXT DAY

The sky was just beginning to be tinted with shades of opal – a few stars still shone feebly here and there in the gloomy depths of the sky. It was about half past three in the morning.

Within the locanda men and animals were sleeping that calm sleep which precedes sunrise. Not a sound, save at intervals the barking of a dog baying at the moon, broke the silence that brooded over the pueblo of San José.

The door of the cuarto in which the foster brothers rested was cautiously opened, a thin thread of light found its way through the orifice, and Valentine and the count came out. Don Louis had no reason for departing unseen; he had no motives for hiding himself. If he took so many precautions, it was only through a fear of disturbing the sleep of the other lodgers, who had not such good reasons as himself for rising so early, and whom, consequently, it was unnecessary to arouse.

On arriving in the patio Don Louis prepared his horse's trappings, while Valentine led the animal from the corral, carefully rubbed it down, and gave it water. When all was in order Valentine opened the gate, the two men shook hands for the last time, and Don Louis entered the gloom of the only street of the pueblo, where he soon disappeared, amid the barking of the masterless dogs aroused by his passing, and who rushed after him howling furiously, and snapping at his horse's legs.

Valentino remained for a moment motionless and thoughtful, listening mechanically to the decreasing sound of the hoofs on the hardened ground.

"Perhaps I ought not to have put him on that path," he muttered. "Who knows what awaits him at the other end?" A stifled sigh broke from his bosom. "Bah!" he added a moment after, "all roads do not lead to the same point – death! Why let such foolish forebodings have any effect over me? Live and learn."

The worthy hunter, somewhat comforted by these philosophic reflections, re-entered the patio, and set to work shutting the outer door, before throwing himself for an hour or two on his cuadro. While engaged in this occupation, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him: he turned his head, and recognised Don Cornelio.

"Ah, ah, my dear friend!" he said gaily, offering him his hand, which the other pressed affectionately; "You are up very early."

"Eh?" the Spaniard answered with a laugh. "I think it a good joke for you to make that remark to me."

"Why so?"

"Because, if I have risen so early, it appears as if you had not been to bed at all."

Valentine began laughing.

"By Jove! You are right. The fact is that, with the exception of yourself and myself, it is certain that everybody is asleep in the pueblo; and now that this door is closed again, with your permission, I will go and do the same for an hour or two."

"What! You are going to bed again?"

"Certainly."

"What to do?"

"Why, to sleep, I suppose."

"Pardon me, but I did not mean that."

"I suppose not."

"And you know what I wish to say to you?"

"I! Not the least in the world. But, as you are a man far too intelligent to spend in walking about the time you might pass far more agreeably in sleeping, I presume that you have certain weighty reasons for being here now."

"That is true, on my word."

"You see!"

"Yes; but I did not wish exactly to speak with you."

"Whom with, then?"

"With Don Louis."

"Hum! And you cannot tell it to me?"

"O yes, I can; but I think it would be better to speak with him myself."

"Confuse the thing!"

Don Cornelio gave that shrug of the shoulders which in all countries and languages signifies the same thing; that is, that the shrugger declines all responsibility.

"And," Valentine continued, "what you have to communicate to Don Louis is probably very important?"

"Very."

"Hang it all, that is annoying; for it is impossible for you to speak with him."

"Bah! How so?"

"Because there is an obstacle."

"For me?"

"For you and for everybody else."

"Oh, oh! And what is that obstacle, Don Valentine, if you please?"

"Oh, I do not want to make any mystery of it; I am more vexed than yourself at what has happened; but the obstacle is very simply that Don Louis has gone away."

"Gone! Don Louis!" the other said in amazement.

"Yes."

"How was that – without speaking to anybody? Gone off at a venture?"

"Not exactly. There were urgent reasons to speed his departure; and see, I was engaged in shutting the gate after him when you arrived. A moment earlier and you would have met him."

"How unlucky!"

"It is; but what would you do? After all, the misfortune is not so great as it may seem to you at the first blush. We shall see him again in a few days."

"You are sure of it?"

"Quite; for it is arranged between us. So soon as I have succeeded in selling the herd, we shall go and join our friend again. So take patience, Don Cornelio; the separation will not be long. Console yourself with that thought, and good night."

Valentine turned and walked a few steps, but the Spaniard stopped him.

"What do you want now?"

"Only one word."

"Make haste, for I am dropping with sleep."

"Pardon me, but you made a remark this moment which struck me greatly."

"Ah! What was it?"

"You said that Don Louis had commissioned you to sell the herd."

"Yes, I did. What then?"

"That was the very subject I wished to speak with him about."

"Bah!"

"Yes, I have found a purchaser."

"What! For the whole herd?"

"Yes, in a lump."

"Stay, stay!" Valentine said, fixing his piercing eyes upon him; "that would singularly simplify matters."

"Would it not?"

"Where on earth have you dug up this strange purchaser since last night?"

"There is nothing at all strange about him, I assure you. I found him here."

"Here, in this locanda?"

"On my word, yes."

"I really beg your pardon," Valentine said. "I am too well acquainted with the gravity of your character to suppose that you have any intention of deceiving me – "

"Oh!"

"But all this is so extraordinary – "

"I am as much astonished as yourself at it."

"Really!"

"The more so because I did not know that Don Louis wished to sell the herd here, and consequently the proposition does not emanate from me."

"That is true. So you have been offered – "

"To take the whole herd off my hands this very day – yes."

"That is strange. Tell me all about it, my dear friend. What a pity that Don Louis has started!"

"Is it not?"

"Well, you said, then – "

"Permit me, if you have no objection, we will proceed to your cuarto, where we can converse much more agreeably than here."

"You are right, especially as people are beginning to get up in the house."

In fact, the servants of the hostelry and the muleteers were already stirring, and walking round our two friends, whom they examined curiously, while attending to their own business. Valentine and Don Cornelio left the patio, and proceeded to the hunter's cuarto. So soon as they had installed themselves Valentine said, —

"Now I am all attention. Speak, my good fellow. I confess I am anxious to hear the solution of this riddle."

Don Cornelio was aware of the friendship existing between Don Louis and Valentine; hence he had not the slightest difficulty in telling the hunter what had happened to him that night in the minutest details.

"Is that all?" Valentine said, who had listened with the greatest attention.

"Yes; and now what do you think of it?"

"Hum!" the hunter said thoughtfully, "if I must give you my opinion, it appears to me rather less clear now than an hour ago."

"Nonsense!"

"That is my opinion. Still we must not neglect this opportunity which presents itself so famously to get rid of our cattle advantageously."

"That is what I think."

"Very good; then do not stir. Above all, do not say a syllable about Don Louis' departure."

"Do you think so?"

"That is important."

"As you please."

"Then supposing you are summoned?"

"I will go."

"No, we will both go; that will be more proper. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Then good night; I am going to sleep a little. If there is anything new wake me up."

"All right."

And Don Cornelio withdrew.

Valentine was not at all inclined to sleep; but he wished to be alone, that he might reflect on what he had just heard. He perfectly understood that the young lady had been playing with the Spaniard like a cat with a mouse, feigning an interest in him which she did not at all feel. But what was her object in all this? Did she love Don Louis? Had the maiden retained in her heart the remembrance of what had happened to the child? Had gratitude unconsciously changed in her into love with growing years?

This was what the hunter could not fathom. Valentine had never been very expert in the matter of women; their hearts were to him as a dead letter, an unknown tongue, in which he could not read a word. The life he had constantly led in the desert, ever contending either with Indians or with wild beasts, had not been at all favourable to the study of the feminine heart; and besides, the deep love of his early youth – a love the memory of which still palpitated in his heart – had prevented him paying the slightest attention to the few women chance had at times thrown in his way, and who had only appeared to him weak, defenceless creatures, whom it was his duty to defend.

Thus the worthy hunter was now considerably bothered, and knew not what to do in order to read the young lady's intentions. It was evident to him that Doña Angela had a secret object she desired to gain, and that the purchase of the novillos was only a pretext to draw nearer to Don Louis. But what was that object? Why did she wish to see his friend? That was what he vainly sought, and was unable to discover.

"After all," he muttered to himself, while going over the chaos of thoughts that jostled each other in his brain, "it is perhaps better that she should not see Louis. Who knows what might be the result of such an interview? The lady's father is governor of Sonora, and we must be most careful not to get into any trouble with him. Who knows whether we may not need him hereafter? It is strange, I do not know where I have heard his name before; but I am certain I do not hear it today for the first time. Guerrero – Don Sebastian Guerrero. Under what circumstances can that name have been pronounced in my presence?"

The hunter had reached this point in his monologue when the door opened gently, and a man entered. It was Curumilla. Valentine started with joy on seeing him.

"You are welcome, chief," he said.

The Araucanian pressed his hand, and sat down silently by his side.

"Well, chief," Valentine continued, "you are awake. Have you been taking a turn in the pueblo?"

The Indian smiled disdainfully.

"No," he said.

An idea crossed the hunter's mind.

"My brother should go down into the patio," he said. "It seems there are other travellers beside us: he should see them."

"Curumilla has seen them."

"Ah!"

"He knows them."

Valentine made a sign of astonishment.

"What! You know them?" he exclaimed.

"Only the man. Curumilla is a chief: his memory is long."

"Ah, ah!" the hunter went on. "Is it possible that I shall obtain in this way the information I have been racking my brains to find?"

The Indian smiled and shook his head.

"Who is the man, chief? Is he a friend?"

"He is an enemy."

"An enemy, by Jupiter! I was certain I had heard his name before."

"Let my brother listen," the chief went on. "Curumilla has seen the paleface: he will kill him."

"Hum! Do not go to work so fast, chief. In the first place tell me who he is; then we shall see what we have to do. Unfortunately we are not here on the prairies: the death of that individual, whoever he may be, might cost us dear."

"The palefaces are women," the Indian replied disdainfully.

"That is possible, chief; but prudent. Tomorrow is not passed, as you gentlemen say, and every man gains his point who knows how to wait. For the present let us be shy; we are not the stronger."

Curumilla shrugged his shoulders. It was plain that the worthy Indian was not a friend to temporising measures; still he did not raise the slightest objection.

"Come, chief, tell me who he is, and under what circumstances we had a quarrel with him."

The Indian rose and stood right in front of Valentine.

"Does not my brother remember?" he asked.

"No."

"Wah! The conspiracy of the Paso del Norte, when Curumilla killed Dog-face."

"Oh!" Valentine exclaimed, striking his forehead, "I have it; it is the general who commanded the Mexican troops, and to whom Don Miguel de Zarate surrendered."

"Yes."

"Well, he was a brave and honest soldier in those days; he kept his word to our friend nobly. I cannot be angry with him."

"He is a traitor."

"From your point of view, chief, possibly so, but not from mine. It is true; I perfectly remember him now. Poor General Ibañez often spoke to me about him: he was not fond of him either. It is a strange coincidence. Good! Fear nothing, chief; I will watch. Whether friend or foe, this man has never seen me – he knows not who I am; hence I have a great advantage over him. Thanks, chief!"

"Is my brother satisfied?"

"You have rendered me an immense service, chief; so you can judge whether I am satisfied."

Curumilla smiled.

"Wah!" he said, "all the better."

"Yes, chief, all the better, and let us breakfast. I feel a ferocious appetite ever since, thanks to you, I have been able to see my way a little more clearly."

Curumilla and Don Cornelio had prepared their frugal meal in their cuarto, consisting of red haricot beans with pepper, a few varas of dried meat, and maize tortillas, the whole washed down with aloe pulque of the first quality, and a few tragos of excellent Catalonian refino.

The three friends ate with good appetite, and were preparing to light their cigars, the obligato termination of every American meal, when they heard a discreet tap at the door, which was only leaned to.

"Come in," Valentine said.

A criado appeared, and after bowing courteously to all present, said, —

"My master, his Excellency General Don Sebastian Guerrero, presents his civilities to the caballeros here assembled, and desires that Señor Don Cornelio and Señor Don Louis will favour him with a moment's interview, if their occupations will permit of it."

"Tell his Excellency," Valentine answered, "that we shall have the honour of obeying his orders."

The servant bowed and retired.

"Why, you know, señor," Don Cornelio then said, "that Don Louis is absent."

"No matter: am I not here?"

"That is true, but – "

"Leave me alone," the hunter quickly interrupted him; "I will answer for everything."

"Very good; do as you think proper."

"Trust to me. How can it concern this man whether he deals with Don Louis or anyone else, so long as the ganado is young, vigorous, and cheap?"

"That is true; it must be a matter of indifference to him."

"Come on: you will see that I shall settle this affair satisfactorily."

And he went out, followed by Don Cornelio, who, however, did not seem completely satisfied.

CHAPTER X
IN WHICH THE SALE OF THE HERD IS DISCUSSED

What Doña Angela had told Don Cornelio was true: her father was really expecting his mayordomo that morning, in order to consult with him about certain improvements he wished to introduce at one of his haciendas, and also about buying cattle to re-stock his prairies, which had been devastated during the last periodical incursion which the Apache and Comanche Indians are in the habit of making upon the Mexican territory.

Still, Doña Angela, like the true Creole she was, had never hitherto troubled herself about her father's domestic affairs, having too much to do in thinking of her toilet and pleasures. Hence she did not know how to bring the conversation gently round to that point, without allowing the interest she took in it to be suspected. But the most simple-minded woman becomes crafty when her interest is at stake. After the Spaniard had withdrawn the girl remained pensive for a few moments; but then a smile played on her rosy lips, she patted her dainty little hands gleefully together, and fell asleep murmuring softly, —

"I have found it."

The Mexicans are early risers, that they may enjoy the freshness of the morning hours. At half past seven Doña Angela opened her eyes, and devoutly paid her matin orisons to the Virgin; then, aided by Violanta, her clever camarista, she proceeded to the charming mystery of her toilet.

Her sleep had been as peaceful as that of a bird: hence she was calm, and gloriously lovely. At the moment that Violanta put in the last pin, intended to hold the long and thick tresses of her magnificent hair, a knock was heard at the door. It was the general.

Don Sebastian was dressed in the rich costume of the Sonorian country gentry; but his masculine and sharply-cut features, his haughty glance, his long moustaches, but, above all, his decided walk, allowed him to be recognised for a soldier at the first glance, in spite of the dress he had assumed. It had been the general's custom for many long years to come thus every morning, and wish his daughter good day: his child's frank and simple smile sent a gentle ray of sunshine into his heart, whose reflection aided him during the rest of the day in supporting the inseparable cares of power.

Violanta hastened to open, and the general walked in. Doña Angela cunningly watched the expression of his face, and she bounded with delight on fancying she saw that he was pleased in spite of the severe appearance he sought to give his features. Don Sebastian kissed his daughter affectionately, and sat down on a butaca which Violanta drew forward for him.

"Oh, my child!" he said, "how fresh and radiant you are this morning! It is easy to see that you have passed an excellent night."

"At any rate, papa," she said with a little pout, "if it was not so, it was not my fault, I assure you; for I was greatly inclined to sleep when I retired last night."

"What do you mean? Was your sleep disturbed?"

"Yes, several times."

"Caramba! Dear little one, it was the same with me. Some scamp persisted in strumming the most melancholy airs on the guitar, that would have frightened the cats themselves, and kept me awake all night Deuce take the musician and his silly instrument!"

"It was not that, papa. I scarcely heard the man of whom you are speaking."

"What was it, then? I was not aware of any other noises last night but that."

"I cannot explain to you positively what I heard; but Violanta was also aroused several times like myself."

"Is that true, little one?" the general asked, turning to the camarista, apparently busy at the moment in arranging the cuarto.

"Oh, señor general," she exclaimed, clasping her hands, "it was a fearful noise – a noise to wake the dead!"

"What the deuce could it be?"

"I do not know," she replied, assuming her most innocent air.

"Did it last long?"

"All the night," she said, trumping what her mistress had alleged.

"Hum! But it must have resembled something, I suppose?"

"Certainly, papa; but I do not know with what to compare it."

"And you, little wench, cannot you make a guess?"

"I fancy I know."

"Ah! Well, then, tell us at once, instead of leaving us in the dark."

"I will, Excellency. This morning, taking advantage of my lady's sleeping, I went down very gently to try and discover the cause of the noise that kept us awake all night."

"And you found it?"

"I think I did."

"Very good: go on."

"It seems that hunters arrived here yesterday with a large herd of novillos, toros, &c., which they are taking, I believe, to California. It was these animals which, by stamping and roaring, prevented us sleeping, for their corral adjoins this house."

"And how did you learn all this?"

"Oh! Very easily, Excellency. Accident willed it that I should address one of the owners of the herd."

"Listen to that! Accident was very kind."

Violanta blushed. The general did not notice it, but continued, "Are you sure they were not vaqueros belonging to some hacienda?"

"O no, Excellency; they are hunters."

"Good; and they want to sell their ganado?"

"The man I spoke with said so."

"I suppose he asks a high price?"

"I do not know."

"That is true. Well, my child," he added, rising and turning to his daughter, "so soon as you are ready we will breakfast, and perhaps I will deliver you from the horrible noise of these animals."

The general kissed his daughter once again, and left the room. So soon as he was gone the two girls began laughing like little madcaps.

We must allow that both had played their part to perfection, and though he little suspected it, had, in a few moments, led the general to do exactly what they wanted, while leaving him persuaded that he was merely acting from his own impulse.

A few minutes later Doña Angela joined her father in the cuarto, which was employed as dining room. The mayordomo had arrived, and the general only awaited his daughter's presence to begin the meal. This mayordomo, already known to the reader, was no other than Don Isidro Vargas, who had accepted this situation as a retiring pension.

The Mexican haciendas, especially in Sonora, are often eight to ten leagues in extent. To watch so large a tract of country, on which immense bands of wild horses and numerous herds of cattle pasture at liberty, a young, robust, and active man is generally selected, who is called in that country a hombre de a caballo. In truth, the profession of a mayordomo is excessively severe: he must constantly be on horseback, galloping day and night, in heat or cold, doing everything and looking after everything himself, and obliging the peons to work, who are the idlest fellows in existence, and the biggest thieves imaginable.

Don Isidro was no longer young. At the period when we bring him again on the stage he was nearly seventy; but this long, thin man, on whose bones a yellow skin, dry as parchment, seemed to be glued, was as upright and vigorous as if he were but thirty: age had gained no power over his body, which was solely composed of muscles and nerves. Thus, by his continual vigilance, his indefatigable ardour, and his uncommon energy, he was the terror of the poor fellows whom their evil destiny had placed under his orders, and who fully believed that their mayordomo had made a compact with the demon, so closely did he watch them, and so thoroughly was he acquainted with their slightest actions.

The mayordomo had retained his botas vaqueras, and his spurs with enormous rowels, which compel the wearer to walk tiptoe. His zarapé and hat of vicuna skin were negligently thrown on a butaca in a corner, and at his left side hung a sheathless machete, passed through an iron ring.

So soon as he perceived the young lady he walked up to her, wished her good day, and embraced her affectionately. The captain knew Doña Angela from the day of her birth, and loved her as his daughter. She, for her part, entertained a great friendship for the old soldier, with whom she had played when a child, and whom she still liked to tease, to which the worthy mayordomo lent himself with the best grace in the world.

They sat down to table; but that expression is somewhat pretentious when applied to a Mexican breakfast.

We have already frequently remarked that the Spanish Americans are the most sober people in the world. The least thing suffices them. Thus the breakfast in question was only composed of a small cup of that excellent chocolate which the Spaniards alone know how to make, of a few maize tortillas, and a large glass of water. This meal, if it be one, is common to all classes of society in Mexico.

The party sat down to table, then, Doña Angela said the benedicite and the chocolate was served. The conversation, at the outset, was completely in the hands of the general and the captain, and turned exclusively on what had happened at the hacienda since the general's last visit; then it gradually veered round to the subject of the ganado.

"By the way," Don Sebastian said, "have you recovered any of the cattle those demons of Apaches took from us in their last attack?"

"Not a head, general, Válgame Dios! You might as well pursue the wind and the tempest as try to catch up those red devils."

"Then we have lost – "

"All that was within their reach; that is to say, about 2500 head."

"That is hard; and how have you repaired the loss?"

"Up to the present I have only succeeded in collecting 1500 head; and if you remember, it was on this very subject that you gave me the meeting here."

"I remember the fact perfectly; still I do not exactly see what we can do, except buy other cattle."

"Hang it! That is the only way we have of completing our herds."

"Have you any in view?"

"At this moment?"

"Yes."

"No, indeed, I have not, for the ganado is growing beyond all price. The discovery of gold in California has caused an enormous number of adventurers from every country to flock there. You know what the gringos are; they must have meat. These miserable heretics are such gluttons that they could not do without it; and thus they have devoured all the ganado they could find in their neighbourhood, and are now obliged to fetch it for nearly two hundred leagues. You can understand that such a thing sends prices up enormously."

"That is annoying."

"And yet, general, only an instant agone, while placing my horse in the corral. I saw the most magnificent herd of novillos that can be imagined. It is evident that the poor animals have travelled at least one hundred leagues, for they appear so fatigued."

Doña Angela gave a sly glance at her camarista, who was standing behind her.

"I have heard of them," the general said carelessly; "they are on the road to San Francisco, I believe."

"What did I say not a moment ago?" the captain exclaimed, striking his fist on the table. "Caray! If those confounded gringos are let alone, they will have devoured all our cattle before ten years have passed."

"Can we not try to purchase these?"

"It would be an excellent business for us, even if we paid dearly; but their owners will not be inclined to sell."

"Who knows? I fancy, on the contrary, that they are willing to get rid of them."

"Rayo de Dios! Buy them, then."

"Yes; but at what price?"

"It is certain that cattle are growing scarcer and scarcer: offer them for each head bought here the price it would fetch at San Francisco."

"Hum! And how is the market down there?"

"About eighteen piastres."

"Oh, oh! That is to say, for six hundred head – "

"Ten thousand eight hundred piastres: offer the even money."

"That is dear."

"What would you have? You will have to do it."

"That is true; but it is hard."

The general reflected for a moment, and then turned to his daughter.

"Angela," he said, "what is the name of the hunter who owns the herd?"

The young lady started.

"Why do you ask me, papa?" she replied, with feigned astonishment; "I really do not know what you mean. I am entirely ignorant whether there is a herd in this hostelry."

"That is true," the general said, recollecting. "Where the deuce is my head gone? It was your camarista, I believe, who spoke to one of the fellows."

"Yes, papa."

"Pardon me. Come, Violanta, my child, can you tell me this man's name?"

The girl approached with downcast eyes, and twisting the hem of her fine muslin apron between her fingers with an embarrassed air. It was evident she was trying all she knew to blush. The general awaited her answer for several minutes, but then lost patience.

"Come, you little fool," he exclaimed, "will you make up your mind to speak, yes or no? People would fancy I was asking you a question unfit for a maiden to answer."

"I do not say that, general," she replied hesitatingly.

"Enough of that mock modesty. What is the name of the owner of this ganado?"

"There are two, general."

"What are their names, then?"

"One is a Spaniard, the other a Frenchman, Excellency."

"What do I care what country the scamps belong to? I only want to know their names."

"One is called Don Cornelio."

"And the other?"

"Don Louis."

"But they have other names beside those?"

Violanta exchanged a rapid glance with her mistress.

"I do not know them," she said.

"Hum!" the general remarked sarcastically, "you only know people, it appears, by their baptismal names. That's worth knowing."

This time the girl really blushed, and retired in great confusion. Don Sebastian made a sign to a peon who was standing respectfully a few paces off.

"Gregorio," he said, "go and present the compliments of General Don Sebastian Guerrero to the Señores Don Louis and Don Cornelio, and beg them to honour him with a visit. You understand me?"

The peon bowed and went out.

"We must be polite with these people," the general observed. "Now that the discovery of the Californian placers has overthrown all classes of society, who knows with whom we may have to deal?"

And he accompanied this remark by a sarcastic laugh, in which the captain, as the worthy Mexican he was, noisily joined.

We will observe parenthetically that General Guerrero, like the majority of his countrymen, professed the most inveterate hatred for Europeans, a hatred which nothing justified, unless it was that superiority which the Creoles are obliged to recognise in the Europeans – a superiority which they submit to unwillingly, but before which they are forced to bow their heads.