This scene would have been prolonged, but prudence urged that the abbess should break it off as soon as possible. Doña Anita, rendered strong merely by the nervous excitement which possessed her, soon felt faint; she could scarcely stand, and Don Martial himself felt his energy abandoning him.

The separation was painful between these two beings so miraculously re-united when they never expected to see each other again; but it was soothed by the hope of soon meeting again under the protection of the Mother Superior, who had done so much for them, and whose inexhaustible kindness they had entirely gained for their cause.

For the first time since she had entered the convent, Doña Anita smiled through her tears, as she offered up to heaven her nightly prayers. Don Martial went off rapidly to tell Valentine of what had taken place at this interview, which he had so long desired. Doña Helena, however, retired pensively to her cell; the maiden was dreaming – of what?

No one could have said, and probably she herself was ignorant; but, for some days past, an obtrusive thought unnecessarily occupied her mind, and constantly troubled the calm mirror in which her virgin thoughts were reflected.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE BEGINNING OF THE STRUGGLE

Ambition is the most terrible and deceptious of all human passions, in the sense that it completely dries up the heart, and can never be satisfied.

General Don Sebastian Guerrero was not one of those coldly cruel men, solely governed by the instinct of art, or whom the smell of blood intoxicates; but, with the implacable logic of ambitious persons, he went direct to his object, overthrowing, without regret or remorse, all the obstacles that barred his way to the object he had sworn to reach, even if he were compelled to wade in blood up to his knees, and trample on a pile of corpses. He only regarded men as pawns in the great game of chess he was playing, and strove to justify himself, and stifle the warnings of his terrified conscience, by the barbarous axiom employed by the ambitious in all ages and all countries, that the end justifies the means.

His secret ambition, which, on a day of pretended frankness, he had partly revealed in an interview with the Count de Prébois Crancé at Hermosillo, was not to render himself independent, but simply to be elected, by means of a well-arranged pronunciamiento, President of the Mexican Republic.

It was not through hatred that General Guerrero was so obstinately bent on destroying the count. Ambitious men, who are ever ready to sacrifice their feelings to the interests of their gloomy machinations, know neither hatred nor friendship. Hence we must seek elsewhere the cause of the judicial murder of the count which was so implacably carried out. The general feared the count, as an adversary who would constantly thwart him in Sonora, where the first meshes of the net he wished to throw over Mexico were spun – an adversary ready to oppose the execution of his plans by claiming the due performance of the articles of partnership – a performance which, in the probable event of an insurrection excited by the general, would have become impossible, by plunging the country for a lengthened period into a state of crisis and general suspension of trade, which would have been most hostile to the success of the lofty conceptions of the noble French adventurer.

See "Goldseekers." Same publishers.

But the count had scarce fallen on the beach of Guaymas ere the general recognized the falseness of his calculations, and the fault he had committed in sacrificing him. In fact, leaving out of the question the death of his daughter, the only being for whom he retained in some corner of his heart a little of that fire which heaven illumes in all parents for their children, he found that he had exchanged a loyal and cautious adversary for an obstinate enemy – the more formidable because, caring for nothing, and having no personal ambition, he would sacrifice everything without hesitation or calculation in behalf of the vengeance which he had solemnly vowed to obtain by any means, over the still quivering body of his friend.

This implacable enemy, whom neither seduction nor intimidation could arrest or even draw back, was Valentine Guillois.

Under these circumstances, the general committed a graver fault than his first one – a fault which was fated to have incalculable consequences for him. Being very imperfectly acquainted with Valentine Guillois, unaware of his inflexible energy of will, and ranking him in his mind with those wood rangers, the Pariahs of civilization, who have only courage to fire, in a moment of despair, a shot from behind a tree, but whose influence was after all insignificant, he despised him.

Valentine was careful not to dissipate, by any imprudent step, his enemy's mistake, or even arouse his suspicions.

At the time of the Count de Prébois Crancé's first expedition, when all seemed to smile on him, and his followers already saw the complete success of their bold undertaking close at hand, Valentine had been entrusted by his friend with various important operations and difficult missions to the rich rancheros and hacenderos of the province. Valentine had performed the duties his friend confided to him with his usual loyalty and uprightness of mind, and had been so thoroughly appreciated by the persons with whom chance had brought him into connection, that all had remained on friendly terms with him and given him unequivocal proofs of the sincerest friendship, especially upon the death of the count.

It only depended on the hunter's will to be rich, since he knew an almost inexhaustible placer; and what the wood ranger would never have consented to for himself, for the sake of paltry gain, he did not hesitate to attempt in order to avenge his friend. Followed by Curumilla, Belhumeur, and Black Elk, and leading a

recua

of ten mules, he did what two hundred and fifty men could not have succeeded in doing. He went through Apacheria, crossed the fearful desert of sand in which the bones of the hapless companions of the Marquis de Lhorailles were bleaching, and, after enduring superhuman fatigue and braving terrible dangers, he at length reached the placer. But this time he did not come to take an insignificant sum; he wanted to collect a fortune at one stroke.

The hunter returned with his ten mules laden with gold. He knew that he was beginning a struggle with a man who was enormously rich, and wished to conquer him with his own weapons. In the new world, as in the old, money is the real sinew of war, and Valentine would not imperil the success of his vengeance.

On returning to Guaymas, he realized his fortune, and found himself, in a single day, not one of the richest, but

the

richest private person in Mexico, although it is a country in which fortunes attain to a considerable amount. Thus the gold of the placer, which, at an earlier period, had served to organize the count's expedition, and make him believe for a moment in the realization of his dreams, was about to serve in avenging him, after having indirectly caused his death.

Then began between the general and the hunter a secret and unceasing struggle, the more terrible through its hidden nature; and the general, struck without knowing whence the blows dealt his ambition came, struggled vainly, like a lion caught in a snare, while it was impossible for him to discover the obstinate enemy who hunted him down.

This man, who had hitherto succeeded in everything – who, during the course of his long and stormy political career, had surmounted the greatest obstacles and forced his very detractors to admire the luck that constantly accompanied his wildest and rashest conceptions – suddenly saw Fortune turn her back on him with such rapidity – we may even say brutality – that, scarce six weeks after the execution of the count, he was obliged to resign his office of Military Governor, and quit, almost like a fugitive, the province of Sonora, where he had so long reigned as a master, and on which his iron yoke had pressed so heavily.

This first blow, dealt the general in the midst of his ambitious aspirations, when he had only just begun to recover from the grief his daughter's death had caused him, was the more terrible because he did not know to whom he should attribute his downfall.

Still, he did not long remain in doubt. An hour before his departure from Hermosillo he received a letter in which he was informed, in the minutest details, of the oath of vengeance taken against him, and of the steps taken to obtain his recall. This letter was signed "Valentine Guillois." The hunter, despising darkness and mystery, tore down the veil that covered him, and openly challenged his foe by manfully telling him to be on his guard.

On receiving this threatening declaration of war, the general fell into an extraordinary passion, the more terrible because it was impotent, and then, when his mind became calm again, and he began reflecting, he felt frightened. In truth, the man who stood so boldly before him as an enemy, must be very powerful and certain of success thus to dare and defy him.

His departure from Sonora was a disgraceful flight, in which he tried, by craft and caution, to throw out his enemy; but the meeting at the Fort of the Chichimèques, a meeting long prepared by the hunter, proved to him that he was unmasked once again, and conquered by his enemy.

The contemptuous manner in which Valentine dismissed him after his stormy explanation with him, had internally filled the general with terror. What sinister projects could the man be meditating, what private vengeance was he arranging, that, when he held him quivering in his grasp, he allowed his foe to escape, and refused to kill him, when that would have been so easy? What torture more terrible than death did he intend to inflict on him?

The remainder of his journey across the Rocky Mountains, as far as Mexico, was one protracted agony, during which, suffering from constant apprehension, and extreme nervous excitement, his diseased imagination inflicted on him moral torture in the stead of which any physical pain would have been welcome.

The loss of his daughter's corpse, and above all, the death of his father's old comrade in arms, the only man in whom he put faith, and who possessed his entire confidence, destroyed his energy, and for several days he was so overwhelmed by this double misfortune, that he longed for death.

His punishment was beginning. But General Guerrero was one of those powerful athletes who do not allow themselves to be overcome so easily; they may totter in the struggle, and roll on the sand of the arena, but they always rise again more terrible and menacing than before. His revolted pride restored his expiring courage; and since an implacable warfare was declared against him, he swore that he would fight to the end, whatever the consequences for him might be.

Moreover, two months had elapsed since his arrival in Mexico, and his enemy had not revealed his presence by one of those terrible blows which burst like a clap of thunder above his head. The general gradually began supposing that the hunter had only wished to force him to abandon Sonora, and that, in despair of carrying out his plans advantageously in a city like Mexico, he was prudently keeping aloof, and if he had not completely renounced his vengeance, circumstances at any rate, independent of his will, compelled him to defer it.

The general, so soon as he was settled in the capital of Mexico, organized a large band of highly-paid spies, who had orders to be constantly on the watch, and inform him of Valentine's arrival in the city. Thus reassured by the reports of his agents, he continued with feverish ardour the execution of his dark designs, for he felt convinced that if he succeeded in attaining his coveted object, the hatred of the man who pursued him would no longer be dangerous. This was the more probable, because, so soon as he held the power in his own hands, he would easily succeed in getting rid of an enemy, whom his position as a foreigner isolated, and rendered an object of dislike to the populace.

The general lived in a large house in the Calle de Tacuba; it was built by one of his ancestors, and considered one of the handsomest in the capital. We will describe in a few words the architecture of Mexico, for, as all the houses are built on the same pattern, or nearly so, by knowing one it is easy to form an idea of what the others must be.

The Mexican architecture greatly resembles the Arabic, and as for the mode of arranging the rooms, it is still entirely in its infancy; but, since the Proclamation of the Independence, foreign architects have succeeded, in most of the great towns, in opening side doors in the suites of rooms, which formerly only communicated with one another, and hence compelled you to go through a bedroom to enter a dining room, or pass through a kitchen to reach the drawing room.

The general's house was composed of four buildings, two stories in height, and with terraced roofs. Two courts separated these buildings, and an awning stretched over the four sides of the first yard, enabling visitors to reach the wide stone steps dry footed. At the top of this flight, a handsome covered gallery, adorned with vases of flowers and exotic shrubs, led to a vast anteroom, which opened into a splendid reception hall; after this came a considerable number of apartments, splendidly furnished in the European style.

The general only inhabited the first floor of his mansion. Although most of the streets are paved at the present day, and the canals have entirely disappeared, except in the lower districts of the city, water is still found a few inches beneath the surface, which produces such damp, that the ground floor, rendered uninhabitable, is given up to stores and shops in nearly all the houses. The ground floor of the main building, looking on the Calle de Tacuba, was, therefore, occupied by brilliant shops, which rendered the façade of the general's house even more striking.

The paintings and the ornaments carved on the walls, after the Spanish fashion, gave it a peculiar, but not unpleasant appearance, which was completed by the profusion of shrubs that lined the terrace, and converted it into a hanging garden, like those of Babylon, some sixty feet above the ground. By-the-bye, these gardens, from which the cupolas of the churches seem to emerge, give a really fairy-like aspect to the city, when you survey it in a glowing sunset, from the cathedral towers.

Seven or eight days had elapsed since the events we recorded in our last chapter. General Guerrero, after a long conversation with Colonel Don Jaime Lupo, Don Sirven, and two or three others of his most faithful partizans – a conversation in which the final arrangements were made for the pronunciamiento which was to be attempted immediately – gave audience to two of his spies, who assured him that the person, whose movements they were ordered to watch, had not yet arrived in Mexico.

When the hour for going to the theatre arrived, the general, temporarily freed from alarm, prepared to be present at an extraordinary performance to be given, that same night, at the Santa Anna theatre; but at the moment when he was about to give orders for his carriage to be brought up, the door of the room, in which he was sitting, opened, and a footman appeared on the threshold, with a respectful bow.

"What do you want?" the general asked, turning round at the sound.

"Excellency," the valet replied, "a caballero desires a few minutes' conversation with your excellency."

"At this hour?" the general said, looking at a clock, "it is impossible;" but, suddenly reflecting, he asked, "anyone you know, Isidro?"

"No, excellency; it is a caballero whom I have not yet had the honour of seeing in the house."

"Hum," said the general, shaking his head thoughtfully, "is he a gentleman?"

"That I can assure your excellency; and he told me that he had a most important communication to make to you."

In the general's present position, as head of a conspiracy on the point of breaking out, no detail must be neglected, no communication despised, so, after reflecting a little, he continued —

"You ought to have told the gentleman that I could not receive him so late, and that he had better call again tomorrow."

"I told him so, excellency."

"And he insisted?"

"Several times, excellency."

"Well, do you know his name, at least?"

"When I asked the caballero for it, he said it was useless, as you would not know it; but if you wished to learn it, he would himself tell it to your excellency."

"What a strange person," the general muttered to himself; "very good," he then added aloud, "lead the gentleman to the small mirror room, and I will be with him immediately."

The footman bowed respectfully.

"Who can the man be, and what is the important matter he has to tell me?" the general muttered, as he was alone. "Hum, probably some poor devil mixed up in our conspiracy, who wants a little money. Well, he had better be careful, for I am not the man to be plundered with impunity, and so he will find out, if his communication is not serious."

And, throwing on to a chair the plumed hat he held in his hand, he proceeded to the mirror room.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A VISIT

The mirror room was an immense apartment, only separated from the covered gallery by two anterooms. It was furnished with princely luxury, and it was here that the general gave those sumptuous

tertulias,

which are still talked about in the highest Mexican circles, although so many years have elapsed.

This room, merely lighted by two lamps, standing on a console, was at this moment plunged into a semi-obscurity, when compared with the other apartments in the mansion, which were full of light.

A gentleman, dressed in full black, and with the red ribbon of the Legion of Honour carelessly knotted in a buttonhole of his coat, was leaning his elbow on the console where the lamps stood, and seemed so lost in thought, that, when the general entered the room, the sound of his steps, half subdued by the petates, did not reach the visitor's ears, and he did not turn to receive him.

Don Sebastian, after closing the door behind him, walked towards his visitor, attempting to recognize him, which, however, the stranger's position rendered temporarily impossible. It was not till he came almost near enough to touch him that the stranger, at length warned of the general's presence, raised his head; in spite of all the command Don Sebastian had over himself, he started and fell back a couple of yards on recognizing him.

"Don Valentine!" he said, in a stifled voice, "you here?"

"Myself, general," he replied, with an almost imperceptible smile and a profound bow; "did you not expect a visit from me?"

The Trail-hunter, according to his habit, at once assumed his position before his adversary. A bitter smile played round the general's pale lips, and mastering his emotion, he replied, sarcastically —

"Certainly, caballero, I hoped to receive a visit from you; but not here, and under such conditions, I did not venture, I confess, to anticipate such an honour."

"I am delighted," he replied, with another bow, "that I have thus anticipated your wishes."

"I will prove to you, señor," the general said, with set teeth, "the value I attach to the visit you have been pleased to pay me."

While saying this, he stretched out his arm towards a bell.

"I beg your pardon, general," the Frenchman said, with imperturbable coolness, "but I believe that you intend to summon some of your people?"

"And supposing that was my intention, señor?" the general said, haughtily.

"If it were so," he replied, with icy politeness, "I think it would be better for you to do nothing of the sort."

"Oh, indeed, and for what reason, may I ask?"

"For the simple reason, general, that as I have the honour to know you thoroughly, I was not such a fool as to place myself in your power. My carriage is waiting at this moment in front of your door; in that carriage are two of my friends, and, in all probability, if they do not see me come down the steps again in half an hour, they will not hesitate to ask you what has taken place between us, and what has become of me."

The general bit his lips.

"You are mistaken as to my intentions, señor," he said. "I fear you no more than you appear to do me. I am a gentleman, and were you ten times more my enemy than you are, I would never attempt to free myself from you by an assassination."

"Be it so, general; I should be glad to be mistaken, and in that case I beg you to accept my apologies; moreover, in coming thus to see you, I give you, I believe, a proof of confidence."

"For which I thank you, señor; but as I suppose that reasons of the highest gravity alone induced you to present yourself here, and the interview you ask of me must be long, I wished to give my people orders to take out the horses, and take care that we are not interrupted."

Valentine bowed without replying, but with an imperceptible smile, and leaning again on the console, he twisted his long, fair, light moustache while the general rang the bell. A servant came in.

"Have the horses taken out," the general said, "and I am not at home to anybody."

The servant bowed, and prepared to leave the room.

"Ah!" said the general, suddenly stopping him, "on the part of this caballero ask the gentlemen in his carriage to do me the honour of coming up to my apartments, where they can await more comfortably the end of a conversation which will probably be rather prolonged. You will serve refreshments to these gentlemen in the blue room," he added, looking fixedly at the Frenchman, "the one that follows this room."

The servant retired.

"If you still apprehend a trap, señor," he continued, turning to the Frenchman, "your friends will be at hand, if necessary, to come to your help."

"I knew that you were brave to rashness, general," the Frenchman answered politely, "and I am happy to see that you are no less honourable."

"And now, señor, be kind enough to sit down," Don Sebastian said, pointing to a chair. "May I venture to offer you any refreshments?"

"General," Valentine answered, as he seated himself, "permit me, for the present, to decline them. In my youth I served in Africa, and in that country people are only wont to break their fast with friends. As we are, temporarily at least, enemies, I must ask you to let me retain my present position toward you."

"The custom to which you allude, señor, is also met with on our prairies," the general replied; "still people sometimes depart from it. However, act as you think proper. I wait till it may please you to explain the purpose of this visit, at which I have a right to feel surprised."

"I will not abuse your patience any longer, general," he replied with a bow. "I have merely come to propose a bargain."

"A bargain?" Don Sebastian exclaimed with surprise, "I do not understand you."

"I will have the honour of explaining myself, señor."

The general bowed and said, "I await your pleasure."

"You are a diplomatist, general," Valentine continued, "and in that capacity are, doubtless, aware that a bad treaty is better than a good war."

"In certain cases I allow it is so; but I will take the liberty of remarking that, under present circumstances, señor, I must await your propositions, instead of offering any of mine, as the war, to employ your own expression, was not begun by me, but by you."

"I think it will be better not to discuss that point, in which we should find it difficult to agree; still, in order to remove any ambiguity, and lay down the point at issue distinctly, I will remind you in a few words of the motives which produced the hatred that divides us."

"Those motives, señor, you have already explained to me most fully at the Fort of the Chichimèques. Without discussing their validity with you, I will content myself with saying that hatred, like friendship, being a matter of sympathy, and not the result of reason, it is better to confess frankly that we hate or love each other, without trying to account for either of these feelings, which I consider completely beyond the will."

"You are at liberty to think so, señor, and though I do not agree with you, I will not discuss the point; it is, however, certain that the hatred we bear each other is implacable, and cannot possibly be extinguished."

"Still you spoke only a minute back of a bargain."

"Certainly; but bargaining is not forgetting. I can, for certain reasons, abstain from that hatred without renouncing it; and though I may cease to injure you, I do not, on that account, contract the slightest friendship with you."

"I admit that in principle, señor; let us, therefore, come to facts without further delay; be good enough to explain to me the nature of the bargain which you think proper to propose to me today."

"Allow me, in the first place, according to my notions of honour, to explain to you what our position to each other is."

"Since the beginning of this interview, señor, I must confess that you have been talking enigmas inexplicable to me."

"I will try to be clear, señor, and if I tell you what your plans are, and the means you have employed for their realization, you will understand, I have no doubt, that I have succeeded in countermining them sufficiently to prevent a favourable issue."

"Go on, señor," the general remarked, with a smile.

"In two words, this is your position. In the first, you wish, by a pronunciamiento, to overthrow General R – , and have yourself proclaimed President of the Republic in his place."

"Ah, ah," said the general, with a forced laugh; "you must know, señor, that in our blessed country this ambition is constantly attributed to all officers who, either on account of their fortune or personal merit, hold a public position. This accusation, therefore, is not very serious."

"It would not be so, if you limited yourself to mere wishes, possibly legitimate in the present state of the country; but, unfortunately, it is not so."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, general, that you are the head of a conspiracy; that this conspiracy, several times already a failure in Sonora, you have renewed in Mexico, under almost infallible conditions of success, and which, in my opinion, would succeed, had I not resolved on causing them to fail. I mean that, only a few days ago, your conspirators assembled in a velorio kept by a certain Ño Lusacho. Through the agency of Don Jaime Lupo, you divided among them two bags of gold, brought by you for them, and emptied in your presence. I mean that, after this distribution, the final arrangements were made, and the day was almost fixed for the pronunciamiento. Am I deceived, general, or do you now see that I am well informed, and that my spies are quite equal to yours, who were not even able to inform you of my arrival at the Ciudad, where I have been for more than a week, and you have not kno