CHAPTER XII.
PSYCHOLOGICAL.
The general had kept the causes which made him undertake a journey intothe prairies from the west of the United States so profound a secret,that the persons who accompanied him had not even a suspicion of them.
Several times already, at his command, and without any apparent reason,the caravan had encamped in regions completely desert, where he hadpassed a week, and sometimes a fortnight, without any apparent motivefor such a halt.
In these various encampments the general would set out every morning,attended by one of the guides, and not return till evening.
What was he doing during the long hours of his absence?
For what object were these explorations made, at the end of which agreater degree of sadness darkened his countenance?
No one knew.
During these excursions, Dona Luz led a sufficiently monotonous life,isolated among the rude people who surrounded her. She passed whole daysseated sadly in front of her tent, or, mounted on horseback and escortedby Captain Aguilar or the fat doctor, she took rides near the camp,without object and without interest.
It happened this time again, exactly as it had happened at the precedingstations of the caravan.
The young girl, abandoned by her uncle, and even by the doctor, who waspursuing, with increasing ardour, the great research for his imaginaryplant, and set out resolutely every morning herbalizing, was reduced tothe company of Captain Aguilar.
But Captain Aguilar was, we are forced to admit, although young, elegantand endowed with a certain relative intelligence, not a very amusingcompanion for Dona Luz.
A brave soldier, with the courage of a lion, entirely devoted to thegeneral, to whom he owed everything, the captain entertained for theniece of his chief great attachment and respect; he watched with theutmost care over her safety, but he was completely unacquainted withthe means of rendering the time shorter by those attentions and thatpleasant chat which are so agreeable to girls.
This time Dona Luz did not become so _ennuyee_ as usual. Since thatterrible night--from the time that one of those fabulous heroes whosehistory and incredible feats she had so often read, Loyal Heart, hadappeared to her to save her and those who accompanied her--a newsentiment, which she had not even thought of analyzing, had germinatedin her maiden heart, had grown by degrees, and in a very few days hadtaken possession of her whole being.
The image of the hunter was incessantly present to her thoughts,encircled with that ennobling glory which is won by the invincibleenergy of the man who struggles, body to body, with some immense danger,and forces it to acknowledge his superiority. She took delight inrecalling to her partial mind the different scenes of that tragedy of afew hours, in which the hunter had played the principal character.
Her implacable memory, like that of all pure young girls, retraced withincredible fidelity the smallest details of those sublime phases.
In a word, she reconstructed in her thoughts the series of eventsin which the hunter had mingled, and in which he had, thanks to hisindomitable courage and his presence of mind, extricated in so happy afashion those he had suddenly come to succour, at the instant when theywere without hope.
The hurried manner in which the hunter had left them, disdaining themost simple thanks, and appearing even unconcerned for those he hadsaved, had chilled the girl; she was piqued more than can be imagined bythis real or affected indifference. And, consequently, she continuallyrevolved means to make her preserver repent that indifference, if chanceshould a second time bring them together.
It is well known, although it may at the first glance appear a paradox,that from hatred, or, at least, from curiosity to love, there is but onestep.
Dona Luz passed it at full speed, without perceiving it.
As we have said, Dona Luz had been educated in a convent, at thegates of which the sounds of the world died away without an echo. Heryouth had passed calm and colourless, in the religious, or, rather,superstitious practices, upon which in Mexico religion is built. Whenher uncle took her from the convent to lead her with him through thejourney he meditated into the prairies, the girl was ignorant of themost simple exigences of life, and had no more idea of the outwardworld, in which she was so suddenly cast, than a blind man has of theeffulgent splendour of the sun's beams.
This ignorance, which seconded admirably the projects of the uncle, wasfor the niece a stumbling block against which she twenty times a daycame into collision in spite of herself.
But, thanks to the care with which the general surrounded her, the fewweeks which passed away before their departure from Mexico had beenspent without too much pain by the young girl.
We feel called upon, however, to notice here an incident, trifling inappearance, but which left too deep a trace in the mind of Dona Luz notto be related.
The general was actively employed in getting together the people hewanted for his expedition, and was therefore obliged to neglect hisniece more than he would have wished.
As he, however, feared that the young girl would be unhappy at beingleft so much alone with an old duenna in the palace he occupied, in theCalle de los Plateros, he sent her frequently to spend her evenings atthe house of a female relation who received a select society, and withwhom his niece passed her time in a comparatively agreeable manner.
Now one evening when the assembly had been more numerous than usual, theparty did not break up till late.
At the first stroke of eleven, sounded by the ancient clock of theconvent of the Merced Dona Luz and her duenna, preceded by a peoncarrying a torch to light them, set off on their return home, castinganxious looks, right and left, on account of the character of thestreets at that time of night. They had but a short distance to go, whenall at once, on turning the corner of the Calle San Agustin to enterthat of Plateros, four or five men of bad appearance seemed to rise fromthe earth, and surrounded the two women, after having previously, by avigorous blow, extinguished the torch carried by the peon.
To express the terror of the young lady at this unexpected apparition,is impossible.
She was so frightened that, without having the strength to utter a cry,she fell on her knees, with her hands clasped, before the bandits.
The duenna, on the contrary, sent forth deafening screams.
The Mexican bandits, all very expeditious men, had, in the shortest timepossible, reduced the duenna to silence, by gagging her with her ownrebozo; then, with all the calmness which these worthies bring to theexercise of their functions, assured as they are of the impunity grantedto them by that justice with which they generally go halves, proceededto plunder their victims.
The operation was shortened by the latter, for, so far from offering anyresistance, they tore off their jewels in the greatest haste, and thebandits pocketed them with grins of satisfaction.
But, at the very height of this enjoyment, a sword gleamed suddenly overtheir heads, and two of the bandits fell to the ground, swearing andhowling with fury.
Those who were left standing, enraged at this unaccustomed attack,turned to avenge their companions, and rushed all together upon theaggressor.
The latter, heedless of their numbers, made a step backwards, placedhimself on guard, and prepared to give them a welcome.
But, by chance, with the change in his position, the moonlight fellupon his face. The bandits instantly drew back in terror, and promptlysheathed their machetes.
"Ah, ah!" said the stranger, with a smile of contempt, as he advancedtowards them, "you recognise me, my masters, do you? By the Virgin! I amsorry for it--I was preparing to give you a rather sharp lesson. Is thisthe manner in which you execute my orders?"
The bandits remained silent, contrite and repentant, in appearance atleast.
"Come, empty your pockets, you paltry thieves, and restore to theseladies what you have taken from them!"
Without a moment's hesitation, the thieves unbandaged the duenna, andrestored the rich booty which, an instant before, they had so joyfullyappropriat
ed to themselves.
Dona Luz could not overcome her astonishment, she looked with thegreatest surprise at this strange man, who possessed such authority overbandits acknowledging neither faith nor law.
"Is this really all?" he said, addressing the young lady, "are you sureyou miss nothing, senora?"
"Nothing--nothing, sir!" she replied, more dead than alive, and notknowing at all what she said.
"Now, then, begone, you scoundrels," the stranger continued; "I willtake upon myself to be the escort of these ladies."
The bandits did not require to be twice told; they disappeared like aflight of crows, carrying off the wounded.
As soon as he was left alone with the two women, the stranger turnedtowards Dona Luz--
"Permit me, senorita," he said, with refined courtesy of manner, "tooffer you my arm as far as your palace; the fright you have justexperienced must render your steps uncertain."
Mechanically, and without reply, the young girl placed her hand withinthe arm so courteously offered to her, and they moved forward.
"When they arrived at the palace, the stranger knocked at the door, andthen taking off his hat, said,--
"Senorita, I am happy that chance has enabled me to render you a slightservice. I shall have the honour of seeing you again. I have already,for a long time, followed your steps like your shadow. God, who hasgranted me the favour of an opportunity of speaking with you once, will,I feel assured, grant me a second, although, in a few days, you are toset out on a long journey. Permit me then to say not _adieu_, but _aurevoir_."
After bowing humbly and gracefully to the young lady, he departed at arapid pace.
A fortnight after this strange adventure, of which she did not think fitto speak to her uncle, Dona Luz quitted Mexico, without having againseen the unknown. Only, on the eve of her departure, when retiring toher bedchamber, she found a folded note upon her _prie-dieu_. In thisnote were the following words, written in an elegant hand:--
"You are going, Dona Luz! Remember that I told you I should see youagain.
"Your preserver of the Calle de los Plateros."
For a long time this strange meeting strongly occupied the mind of theyoung girl; for an instant, she had even believed that Loyal Heart andher unknown preserver were the same man; but this supposition had soonfaded away. What probability was there in it? With that object couldLoyal Heart, after having saved her, so quickly have departed? Thatwould have been absurd.
But, by one of those consequences (or those inconsequences, whicheverthe reader pleases) of the human mind, in proportion as the affair ofMexico was effaced from her thoughts, that of Loyal Heart, became moreprominent.
She longed to see the hunter and talk with him.
Why?
She did not herself know. To see him,---to hear his voice,--to meet hislook, at once so soft and so proud,--nothing else; all maidens wouldhave done the same.
But how was she to see him again?
In reply to that question arose an impossibility, before which the poorgirl dropped her head with discouragement.
And yet something at the bottom of her heart, perhaps that voice divinewhich in the reflections of love whispers to young girls, told her thather wish would soon be accomplished.
She hoped, then?
What for?
For some unforeseen incident,--a terrible danger, perhaps,--which mightagain bring them together.
True love may doubt sometimes, but it never despairs.
Four days after the establishment of the camp upon the hill, in theevening, when retiring to her tent, Dona Luz smiled inwardly as shelooked at her uncle, who was pensively preparing to go to rest.
She had at length thought of a means of going in search of Loyal Heart.
Les trappeurs de l'Arkansas. English Page 16