The capataz rose, opened a door, went out for a moment, returned; to his seat opposite the Tigrero, poured himself out a glass of sherry, which he swallowed at a draught, and then letting his head fall in his hands, remained silent.

Don Martial watched with amazement the various movements of the capataz. Seeing at last that he did not seem inclined to make the confession he was so impatiently awaiting, he went over and touched him slightly. Carnero started as if suddenly branded with a hot iron.

"What you have to reveal to me must be very terrible," the Tigrero at length said in a low voice.

"So terrible, my friend," the capataz answered with an amount of terror impossible to depict, "that though alone with you in this room, where no spy can be concealed, I fear to tell it you."

The Tigrero shook his head sadly. "Speak, my friend," he said, in a gentle voice, "I have suffered such agony during the last few months, that all the springs of my soul have been crushed by the fatal pressure of despair. However horrible may be the blow that menaces me, I will endure it without flinching; alas! grief has no longer power over me."

"Yes, you are a man carved in granite. I know that you have struggled triumphantly against lost fortunes; but, believe me, Don Martial, there are sufferings a thousandfold more atrocious than death – sufferings which I do not feel the right of inflicting on you."

"The pity you testify for me is only weakness. I cannot die before I have accomplished the task to which I have devoted the wretched existence heaven left me in its wrath. I have sworn, at the peril of my life, to protect the girl who was betrothed to me in happier times."

"Carry out your oath, then, Don Martial; for the poor child was never in greater peril than she is at present."

"What do you mean? In heaven's name explain yourself," the Tigrero said passionately.

"I mean that Don Sebastian covets the incalculable wealth of his ward, which he needs for the success of his ambitious plans; I mean that remorselessly and shamelessly laying aside all human respect, forgetting that the unfortunate girl the law has confided to him is insane, he coldly intends to become her murderer."

"Go on, go on! what frightful scheme can this man have formed?"

"Oh!" the capataz continued with savage irony; "the plan is simple, honest, and highly praised by some persons, who consider it admirable, even sublime."

"You will tell me?'

"Well, know all, then; General Don Sebastian Guerrero intends to marry his ward."

"Marry his ward, he!" Don Martial exclaimed with horror, "'tis impossible."

"Impossible?" the capataz repeated with a laugh, "Oh, how little you know this man with the implacable will, this wild beast with a human face, who pitilessly breaks everyone who dares to resist him. He is resolved to marry his ward in order to strip her of her fortune, and he will do so, I tell you."

"But she is mad!"

"I allow she is."

"What priest would be so unnatural as to bless this sacrilegious marriage?"

"Nonsense," the capataz said with a shrug of his shoulders, "you forget, my good sir, that the general possesses the talisman which renders everything possible, and purchases everything – men, women, honour, and conscience; he has gold."

"That is true, that is true," the Tigrero exclaimed in despair, and burying his face in his hands, he remained motionless, as if suddenly struck by lightning.

There was a lengthened silence, during which nothing was audible but the choking sobs that burst from Don Martial's heaving chest. It was a heartrending sight to see this strong, brave man so tried by adversity, now conquered and almost crushed by despair, and weeping like a frightened child.

The capataz, with his arms crossed on his chest, pale forehead and eyebrows contracted almost till they met, looked at him with an expression of gentle and sympathizing pity.

"Don Martial," he at length said, in a sharp and imperative voice.

"What do you want with me?" the Tigrero asked, looking up with surprise.

"I want you to listen to me, for I have not said all yet."

"What more can you have to tell me?" the other asked sadly.

"Arouse yourself like the man you are, instead of remaining any longer crushed beneath the pressure of despair, like a child or a weak woman. Is there no hope left in your heart?"

"Did you not tell me that this man had an implacable will which nothing could resist?"

"I did say so, I allow; but is that a reason for giving up the struggle? Do you suppose him invulnerable?"

"Yes," he exclaimed eagerly, "I can kill him."

The capataz shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

"Kill him," he repeated, "nonsense; that is the vengeance of fools! Moreover, you will still be able to do that when all other means failed. No – you can do something else."

Don Martial looked at him earnestly. "You hate him too then, since you do not fear to speak to me as you are doing?"

"No matter whether I hate him or not, so long as I am willing to serve you."

"That is true," the Tigrero muttered.

"Besides," the capataz continued, "do you forget who recommended you to me?"

"Valentine," said Don Martial.

"Valentine; yes, Valentine, who saved my life as you have done, and to whom I have vowed an eternal gratitude."

"Oh," Don Martial said mournfully, "Valentine himself has given up any further contest with this demon."

The capataz grinned savagely. "Do you believe that?" he asked ironically.

"What matter?" the Tigrero muttered.

"Grief makes you egotistic, Don Martial," the other replied; "but I forgive you on account of the sufferings I have most unluckily caused you."

He broke off, poured out a glass of sherry, swallowed it, and sat down again on his butaca.

"He would be a bad physician," he continued, "who, having performed a painful operation, did not know how to apply the proper remedies to cicatrize and cure it."

"What do you mean?" the Tigrero exclaimed interested, in spite of himself, by the tone in which those words were uttered.

"Do you believe," the capataz continued, "do you believe, my friend, that I would have inflicted such great pain on you if I had not possessed the means to cause an immense joy to succeed it? Tell me, do you believe that?"

"Take care, señor," the Tigrero said in a trembling voice, "take care what you are about, for I know not why, but I am beginning to regain hope, and I warn you that if this last illusion which you are trying to produce were to escape me this time, you would kill me as surely as if you stabbed me with a dagger."

The capataz smiled with ineffable gentleness. "Hope, my friend; hope, I tell you," he said, "that is exactly what I want to bring you to; for I wish you to have faith in me."

"Speak, señor," he replied; "I will listen to you with confidence, for I do not believe you capable of sporting so coldly with agony like mine."

"Good, we have reached the point I have been aiming at so long. Now listen to me. I told you, I think, that on her arrival in Mexico, Doña Anita was taken by Don Sebastian to the Convent of the Bernardines?"

"Yes! I fancy I can remember your saying so."

"Very good. Doña Anita was received with open arms by the good nuns who had educated her. The young lady, on finding herself again among the companions of her childhood, treated with kind and intelligent care, wandering unrestrained beneath the lofty trees that had sheltered her early years, gradually felt calmness returning to her mind; her grief by degrees gave way to a gentle melancholy; her ideas, overthrown by a frightful catastrophe, regained their balance; in short, the madness which had spread its black wings over her brain was driven away by the soft caresses of the nuns, and soon entirely disappeared."

"So, then," Don Martial exclaimed, "she has regained her reason?"

"I will not venture to assert that, for she is still insane in the opinion of everybody."

"But in that case – ," the Tigrero said in a panting voice.

"In that case," the capataz continued, purposely laying a stress on every word, while fixing a magnetic glance on the Tigrero, "as all the world believes it, it must be so till the contrary is proved."

"But how did you learn all these details?"

"In the most simple manner. My master, Don Sebastian, has sent me several times to the convent with messages, and chance decreed that I recognized in the sister porter a relation of mine, whom I thought dead long ago. The worthy woman, in her delight, and perhaps, too, to make up for the long silence she is compelled to maintain, tells me whenever she sees me all that is said and done in the convent, and there is a good deal to learn from the conversation of a nun. She takes a good deal of interest in me, and as I am fond of her too, I listen to her with pleasure. Now, do you understand?"

"Oh! go on. Go on!"

"Well, this time I have nearly finished. It appears, from what my relation tells me, that the nuns, and the Mother Superior before all, are utterly opposed to the general's plans of marriage."

"Oh, the holy women!" the Tigrero exclaimed with simple joy.

"Are they not?" the capataz said with a laugh. "This is probably the reason why they keep so secret the return of their boarder to her senses, for they doubtless hope that, so long as the poor girl is mad, the general will not dare contract the impious union he is meditating; unfortunately, they do not know the man with whom they have to deal, and the ferocious ambition that devours him; an ambition for the gratification of which he will recoil from no crime, however atrocious it may be."

"Alas!" the Tigrero said despairingly; "you see, my friend, that I am lost."

"Wait, wait, my good sir; your situation, perhaps, is not so desperate as you imagine it."

"My heart is on fire."

"Courage; and listen to me to the end. Yesterday I went to the convent, the Mother Superior, to whom I had the honour of speaking, confided to me, under the seal of secrecy – for she knows that, although I am a servant of Don Sebastian, I take a deep interest in Doña Anita, and would be glad to see her happy – that the young lady has expressed an intention to confess."

"Ah, for what reason! do you know?"

"No, I do not!"

"But that desire can be easily satisfied, I presume, there are plenty of monks and priests attached to the convent."

"Your observation is just; still it appears that, for reasons I am equally ignorant of, neither the Mother Superior nor Doña Anita wishes to have one of those monks or priests for confessor, hence – "

"Hence?" Don Martial quickly interrupted him.

"Well, the Mother Superior asked me to bring her a priest or monk in whom I had confidence."

"Ah!"

"You understand, my friend."

"Yes, yes! Oh, God! go on!"

"And to take him to the convent."

"And," Don Martial asked in a choking voice, "have you found this confessor?"

"I believe so," the capataz answered with a smile; "and pray, what do you think, Don Martial?"

"Yes, I do too," he exclaimed joyfully. "At what time are you to take this confessor to the convent?"

"Tomorrow, at the Oración."

"Very good, and I presume you have arranged a place to meet him?"

"Caspita! I should think so; he is to meet me at the Parian, where I shall be at the first stroke of the Oración."

"I am certain that he will be punctual!"

"And so am I; and now, señor, do you consider that you have lost your time in listening to me?"

"On the contrary," Don Martial replied, as he offered him his hand with a smile, "I consider you a first-rate hand at telling a story."

"You flatter me."

"No, indeed I do not. I consider, too, that the nuns of St. Bernard are excellent and holy women."

"Caspita! I should think so; they have a relation of mine as portress."

The two men burst into a frank and hearty laugh, whose explosion no one could have anticipated from the way in which their interview began.

"Now, we must separate," the capataz said, as he rose.

"What, already?"

"I have to accompany my master tonight on an excursion outside the city."

"Some plot, I presume?"

"I am afraid so; but what would you have; I am forced to obey."

"In that case, turn me out of doors."

"That is what I am going to do; by-the-bye, have you seen Don Valentine since you arrived?"

"Not yet. This long delay makes me anxious, and if it were not so late, or if I knew my road, I would go and ask hospitality of Don Antonio Rallier, his fellow countryman, so as to obtain news of him."

"That is of no consequence. Do you know Don Antonio's address?"

"Yes, he lives in the Secunda Monterilla."

"It is close by; if you wish it, I will have you taken there."

"I should feel greatly obliged; but by whom?"

"Caspita! have you forgotten the man to whom you intrusted your horse? He will act as your guide."

"A thousand thanks!"

"It is not worth them. Will you take a walk tomorrow in the Parian?"

"I am so anxious to see your confessor that I shall not fail to be there."

The two men smiled again.

"Now, give me your hand, and let us be off."

They went out of the room; the capataz led the Tigrero by the same passage, walking along in the darkness as if it were broad day, and they soon found themselves beneath the zaguán of the small house. The capataz thrust his head out, after opening the door cautiously. The street was deserted, and after looking up and down it, he whistled in a peculiar way, and in a few minutes footsteps were heard and the peon appeared holding the Tigrero's horse by the bridle.

"Good bye, señor," the capataz said. "I thank you for the delightful evening you have caused me to spend. Pilloto, lead this señor, who is a forastero, to the Secunda Monterilla, and point out to him the house of Señor Don Antonio Rallier."

"Yes, mi amo," the peon answered laconically.

The two friends exchanged a parting salutation; the Tigrero mounted, and followed Pilloto, while the capataz re-entered the house and closed the door after him. After numberless turnings and windings, the rider and the footman at length entered a street which, from its width, the Tigrero suspected to form part of the fashionable quarter.

"This is the Secunda Monterilla," said the peon, "and that gentleman," he added, pointing to a horseman who was coming toward them, followed by three footmen also mounted, and well-armed, "is the very Don Antonio you are looking for."

"You are sure of it?" the Tigrero asked.

"Caray! I know him well."

"If that is the case, accept this piastre, my friend, and go home, for I no longer need your services."

The peon bowed and retired. During the conversation the newcomer had halted in evident alarm.

"'Tis I, Don Antonio," the Tigrero shouted to him. "Come on without fear – I am a friend."

"Oh, oh! it is very late to meet a friend in the street," Don Antonio answered, though he advanced without hesitation, after laying his hand on his weapon to guard against a surprise.

"I am Martial, the Tigrero."

"Oh, that is different; what do you want? A lodging, eh? I will have you led to my house by a servant, and there leave you till tomorrow, as I am in a hurry."

"Agreed; but allow me one word."

"Speak!"

"Where is Don Valentine?"

"Do you want to see him?"

"Excessively."

"Then come with me, for I am going to him!"

"Heaven has sent him thus opportunely," the Tigrero exclaimed, as he drew his horse up alongside Don Antonio's.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE VELORIO

It was very late when the conspirators separated, and when the last groups of officers left the rancho, the sound of the Indian horses and mules proceeding to market was audible on the paved highway. Although the darkness was still thick, the stars were beginning to die out in the heavens, the cold was becoming sharper – in a word, all foretold that day would soon break.

The two travellers had seated themselves again at a corner of the table, opposite one another, and were dumb and motionless as statues. The host walked about the room with a busy air, apparently arranging and clearing up, but very anxious in reality, and desirous, in his heart, to be rid as soon as possible of these two singular customers, whose silence and sobriety inspired him with but slight confidence.

At length the person who had always spoken on his own behalf and that of his companion struck the table twice, and the landlord hurried up at this summons.

"What do you wish for, excellency?" he asked, with an obsequious air.

"I tell you what, landlord," the stranger continued, "it strikes me that your criado is a long time in returning; he ought to have been back before this."

"Pardon me, excellency, but it is a long journey from here to the Secunda Monterilla, especially when you are obliged to walk it. Still, I believe the peon will soon be back."

"May Heaven hear you! Give us each a glass of tamarind water."

At this moment, when the landlord brought the draught, there was a tap at the door.

"Perhaps it is our man," the stranger said.

"That is possible, your excellency," the landlord answered, as he went to open the door on the chain, which left only a passage of a few inches, much too narrow for the visitor to enter the house against the wish of its owner. This precautionary measure, which is at once very prudent and simple, is generally adopted all through Mexico, owing to the slight confidence with which the police organization in this blessed country, which is the refuge of scoundrels of every description, inspires the inhabitants.

After exchanging a few words in a low voice with the new arrival, the landlord unhooked the chain and opened the door.

"Excellency," he said to the stranger, who was slowly sipping his tamarind water, "here is your messenger."

"At last," the traveller said, gladly, as he placed his horn mug on the table.

The peon entered, politely doffed his hat and bowed.

"Well, my friend," the stranger asked him, "did you find the person to whom I sent you?"

"Yes, excellency, I had the good fortune to find him at home on his return from a tertulia in the Calle San Agustin."

"Ah, ah! and what did he say on receiving my note?"

"Well, excellency, he is a caballero, for sure; for he first gave me a piastre, and then said to me, 'Go back as quick as you can walk, and tell the gentleman who sent you that I shall be at the meeting he appoints as soon as yourself.'"

"So that – "

"He will probably be here in a few minutes."

"Very good, you are a clever lad," the stranger answered; "here is another piastre for you, and now you can retire."

"Thanks, your excellency," the peon said, joyfully pocketing his piastre. "Caray! I should be a rich man with only two nights a month like this."

And after bowing a second time, he left the room to go and sleep, in all probability, in the corral. The peon had told the truth, for he had scarce left the room ten minutes ere a rather loud voice was heard without: horses stamped, and not only was the door struck, but there were several loud calls.

"Open the door without fear," the stranger said; "I know that voice."

The ranchero obeyed, and several persons entered the inn.

"At last you have returned, my dear Valentine," the newcomer exclaimed in French, as he walked quickly towards the travellers, who, for their part, went to meet him.

"Thanks for your promptitude in responding to my invitation, my dear Rallier," the hunter answered.

The ranchero bit his lips on hearing them talk in a language he did not understand.

"Hum! they are Ingleses," he muttered spitefully. "I suspected they must be gringos."

It is a general rule with the lower class Mexicans that all foreigners are English, and consequently hunters or gringos.

"Come here, Ño Lusacho," Valentine said, addressing the landlord, who was turning his hat between his fingers with an air of considerable embarrassment, "I have to talk on important matters with these gentlemen, and as I do not wish to be disturbed by you, I propose that you should give me up this room for an hour."

"Excellency," he muttered.

"I understand, you expect to be paid. Very good, I will pay you, but on condition that no one, not even yourself, comes in till I call."

"Still, your excellency – ."

"Listen to me without interruption. Day will not break for two hours, so you will not open your rancho till then, and, consequently, you have no customers to expect. I will pay an ounce for each hour; will that suit you?"

"I should think so, your excellency; at that price I will sell you the whole day if you wish."

"That is not necessary," the hunter said, with a laugh; "but you understand I want fair play – no ears on the listen, or eyes at the slits of the panelling."

"I am an honest man, your excellency."

"I am ready to believe so; but I warn you, because in the event of my seeing an eye or an ear lap, I shall immediately fire a bullet at it as a recommendation to prudence, and I have the ill luck to be a dead shot. Does the bargain suit you with those conditions?"

"Perfectly, your excellency. I shall keep a strict watch over my people, so that you shall not be disturbed."

"You are a splendid landlord, and I predict that you will make a rapid fortune, for I see that you thoroughly understand your own interests."

"I try to satisfy the gentry who honour my poor abode with their presence."

"Excellently reasoned! Here are the two promised ounces, and four piastres in the bargain for the refreshments you are going to serve us. Have these gentlemen's horses taken to the corral, and have the goodness to leave us."

The landlord bowed with a grimacing smile, brought, with a speed far from common with people of his calling, the refreshments ordered, and gave the hunter a deep bow.

"Now," he said, "your excellency is in your own house, and no one shall enter without your orders."

While Valentine was making this bargain with the ranchero, his friends remained silent, laughing inwardly at the hunter's singular mode of proceeding, and the unanswerable arguments he employed to avoid an espionage almost always to be found in such places, when the master does not scruple to betray those who pay him best.

"Now," said Valentine, so soon as the door closed behind the landlord, "we shall talk at least in safety."

"Speak Spanish, my friend," said M. Rallier.

"Why so? It is so delightful to converse in one's own tongue, when, like me, you have so few opportunities for doing so. I assure you that Curumilla will not feel offended."

"Hum; I did not say this on behalf of the chief, whose friendship for you I am well acquainted with."

"Who then?"

"For Don Martial, who has accompanied me, and has important matters to communicate to you."

"Oh, oh, that changes the question," said the hunter, at once substituting Spanish for the French he had hitherto employed. "Are you there, my dear Don Martial?"

"Yes, señor," the Tigrero answered, emerging from the gloom in which he had remained up to this moment, "and very happy to see you."

"Who else have you brought with you, Don Antonio?"

"Me, my friend," said a third person, as he let the folds of his cloak fall. "My brother thought that it would be better to have a companion, in the event of an alarm."

"Your brother was right, my dear Edward, and I thank him for the good idea, which procures me the pleasure of shaking your hand a few moments sooner. And now, señores, if you are agreeable, we will sit down and talk, for, if I am not mistaken, we have certain things to tell each other which are most important for us."

"That is true!" Antonio Rallier answered, as he sat down, in which he was immediately imitated by the rest.

"If you like," Valentine continued, "we will proceed in regular rotation; that is, I fancy, the way to finish more quickly, for you know that moments are precious."

"First, and before all else, my friend," said Antonio Rallier, "permit me to thank you once again, in my own name and that of my family, for the services you rendered me in our journey across the Rocky Mountains. Without you, without your watchful friendship and courageous devotion, we should never have emerged from those frightful gorges, but must have perished miserably in them."

"What good is it, my friend, to recall at this moment – "

"Because," Antonio Rallier continued eagerly, "I wish you to be thoroughly convinced that you can dispose of us all as you please. Our arms, purses, and hearts, all belong to you."

"I know it, my friend, and you see that I have not hesitated to make use of you, at the risk even of compromising you. So let us leave this subject, and come to facts. What have you done?"

"I have literally followed your instructions; according to your wish, I have hired and furnished for you a house in Tacuba Street."

"Pardon me, but you know that I am very slightly acquainted with Mexico, for I have visited that city but rarely, and each time without stopping."

"The Tacuba is one of the principal streets in Mexico; it faces the palace, and is close to the street in which I reside with my family."

"That is famous. And in whose name did you take the house?"

"In that of Don Serapio de la Ronda. Your servants arrived two days ago."

"You mean – "

"I mean Belhumeur and Black Elk; the former is your steward and the latter your valet. They have made all the arrangements, and you can arrive when you please."

"Today, then."

"I will act as your guide."

"Thank you; what next?"

"Next, my brother Edward has taken, in his own name, at the San Lázaro gate, a small house, where ten horses, belonging to the purest mustang breed, were at once placed in a magnificent corral."

"That concerns Curumilla; he will live in that house with your brother."

"And now one other thing, my friend."

"Speak!"

"You will not be angry with me?"

"With you? nonsense!" said Valentine, holding out his hand.

"Not knowing whether you had sufficient funds at your disposal – and you will agree with me that you will require a large sum – ?"

"I know it. Well?"

"Well, I – "

"I see I must come to your assistance, my poor Antonio. As you believe me a poor devil of a hunter not possessed of a farthing, and are so delicate minded yourself, you have placed in a corner of the room, or in some article of furniture, of which you want to give me the key and don't know how, fifty or perhaps one hundred thousand piastres, with the reservation to offer me more, should not that sum prove sufficient."

"Would you be angry with me had I done so?"

"On the contrary, I should be most grateful to you."

"In that case I am glad."

"Glad of what, my dear Antonio?"

"That you accept the hundred thousand piastres."

Valentine smiled.

"I am delighted to find that you are the man I judged you to be. Still, while thanking you from my heart for the service you wish to render me, I do not accept it."

"Do you refuse, Valentine?" he said mournfully.

"Let us understand each other, my friend. I do not refuse; I simply tell you that I do not want the money, and here is the proof," he added, as he took from his pocket a folded paper, which, he handed to his countryman, "you, as a banker, may know the firm of Thornwood, Davison, and Co."

"It is the richest in San Francisco."

"Then open that paper and read."

Mr. Rallier obeyed.

"An unlimited credit opened at my house," he exclaimed in a voice tremulous with joy.

"Does that displease you?" Valentine asked with a smile.

"On the contrary; but you must be rich in that case."

A cloud of sadness passed over the hunter's forehead.

"I have grieved you, my friend."

"Alas! as you know, there are certain wounds which never close. Yes, my friend, I am rich; Curumilla, Belhumeur, and myself alone, now that my foster-mother is dead, know in Apacheria the richest placer that exists in the world. It was for the purpose of going to this placer that I did not accompany you to Mexico; now you understand; but what do I care for this incalculable fortune, when my heart is dead, and the joy of my life is for ever annihilated!"

And under the weight of the deep emotion that crushed him, the hunter hung his head down and stifled a sob. Curumilla arose amid the general silence, for no one ventured to offer ordinary consolation for this grief, and laid his hand on Valentine's shoulder —

"Koutonepi," he said to him in a hollow voice, "remember that you have sworn to avenge our brother."

The hunter drew himself up as if stung by a serpent, and pressing the hand the Indian offered him, he looked at him for a moment with strange fixedness.

"Women alone weep for the dead, because they are unable to avenge them," the Indian continued in the same harsh, cutting accent.

"Yes, you are right," the hunter answered with feverish energy; "I thank you, chief, for having recalled me to myself."

Curumilla laid his friend's hand on his heart, and stood for an instant motionless; at length he let it fall, sat down again, and wrapping himself in his zarapé, he returned to his habitual silence, from which so grave a circumstance alone could have aroused him. Valentine passed his hand twice over his forehead, which was bathed in cold perspiration, and attempted a faint smile.

"Forgive me, my friends, for having forgotten, during a moment, the character I have assumed," he said in a gentle voice.

Their hands were silently extended to him.

"Now," he exclaimed in a firm voice, in whose notes traces of the past tempest were still audible, "let us speak of that poor Doña Anita de Torrés."

"Alas!" said the elder Rallier, "I cannot tell you anything, although my sister Helena, her companion at the Convent of the Bernardines, to which I sent her in accordance with your wish, has let me know that she would have grand news for us in a few days."

"I will give you that news, with your permission," Don Martial said at this moment, suddenly joining in the conversation, to which he had hitherto listened with great indifference.

"Do you know anything?" Valentine asked him.

"Yes, something most important; that is why I was so anxious to speak with you."

"Speak then, my friend, speak, we are listening."