The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER FORTY.

  Early morning prayer in the "iglesia" is a fashionable custom among thesenoras of Mexico--particularly among those who dwell in cities andtowns. Close upon the heels of daybreak you may see them issuing fromthe great doors of their houses, and hurrying through the streetstowards the chapel, where the bell has already begun its deafening"ding-dong." They are muffled beyond the possibility of recognition--the richer in their silken shawls and mantas, the poorer in theirslate-coloured rebosos; under the folds of which each carries a littlebound volume--the "_misa_."

  Let us follow them into the sacred temple, and see what passes there.

  If we arrive late, and take station near the door we shall be presentedwith the spectacle of several hundred backs in a kneeling position--thatis, the individuals to whom the backs belong will be found kneeling.

  These backs are by no means alike--no more than faces are. They are ofall shapes, and sizes, and colours, and classes in the social scale.You will see the backs of ladies in shawls--some of whom have permittedthat elegant garment to fall to the shoulders, while others retain itover the crowns of their heads, thus creating two very distinct stylesof back. You will see the backs of pretty poblanas, with the end oftheir rebosos hanging gracefully over them; and the back of thepoblana's mother with the reboso ill arranged, and not over clean. Youwill see the back of the merchant scarcely covered with a short clothjacket, and the back of the "aguador" cased in well-worn leather; theback of the "guapo" muffled in a cloak of fine broad-cloth, and that ofthe "lepero" shrouded in a ragged scrape; and then you will see broadbacks and slender ones, straight backs and crooked ones; and you run agood chance of beholding a hunch or two--especially if the church be ina large town. But wheresoever you enter a Mexican iglesia duringprayer-time, I promise you the view of an extensive assortment of backs.Not classified, however. Quite the contrary. The back of the shawledlady may be inclusive between two greasy rebosos, and the striped orspeckled back of the lepero may rise up alongside the shiningbroad-cloth of the dandy! I do not answer for any classification of thebacks; I only guarantee their extensive number and variety. The onlyface that is likely to confront you at this moment will be the shavenphiz of a fat priest, in full sacerdotal robes of linen, that were once,no doubt, clean and white, but that look now as if they had been sent tothe buck-basket, and by some mistake brought back before reaching thelaundry. This individual, with a look as unlike heaven as the wickedestof his flock, will be seen stirring about on his little stage; nowcarrying a wand--now a brazen pot of smoking "incense," and anon somewaxen doll--the image of a saint; while in the midst of hismanipulations you may hear him "murmuring" a gibberish of ill-pronouncedLatin. If you have witnessed the performance of M. Robin, or the "GreatWizard," you cannot fail to be reminded of them at this moment.

  The tinkling of a little bell, which you will presently hear, has amagical effect upon the backs. For a short while you may have observedthem in an odd attitude--not erect as backs ought to be, but slouchingand one-sided. During this interval, too, you may catch a glance of aface--merely the profile--and if it be pretty, you will forget the back;but then the party is no longer a back in the proper sense. You won'tbe struck with the devotion of the profile, if you are with itsprettiness. You may observe it wink or look cunningly, and, if yourobservation be good, you may note another profile, of coarser mould,corresponding to that wink or cunning glance. This goes on while thebacks are in their "slouch" or attitude of repose. How that attitude isproduced will be to you a mystery, an anatomical puzzle; but it may beexplained. It is simple enough to those who know it. It is broughtabout by the back changing its base from the marrow-bones to the hips;and this is done so adroitly, that, under cover of shawls, mantas,rebosos, and skirts, it is no wonder you are puzzled by it.

  The little bell, however, brings the backs all right again. It is tothese devotees what the "Attention!" is to the rank and file of an army;and the moment the first tinkle is heard, backs up is the movement, andall become suddenly elevated several inches above their former standard.Thus they remain, stiff and erect, while the priest mumbles a fresh"Ave Maria," or "Pater noster," and goes through a fresh exhibition ofpantomime. Then the backs are suddenly shortened again, the profilesappear as before--nods, and winks, and cunning glances, are exchanged--and that till the little bell sounds a second time. And then there willbe a third course of this performance, and a fourth, and so on, till theworship (!) is ended.

  This ridiculous genuflexion and mummery you may see repeated everymorning in a Mexican "iglesia," long before the hour of breakfast. Bothmen and women engage in it, but by far the greater number of thedevotees are of the gentler sex, and many of them the fashionablesenoras of the place.

  One is inclined to inquire into the motives that draw so many people outof their beds, to shiver through the streets and in the cold church atsuch an early hour. Is it religion? Is it superstition? Is itpenance? Is it devotion? No doubt many of these silly creatures reallybelieve that the act is pleasing to God; that these genuflexions andorisons, mechanically repeated, will give them grace in His eyes. Butit is very certain that many of the most constant attendants on thesemorning prayers are actuated by very different feelings. In a land ofjealous men you will find the women peculiarly intelligent and cunning,and the matutinal hour is to them the "golden opportunity." He is avery jealous guardian, indeed, whose vigil tempts him from his couch atso chill an hour!

  Await the end of the performance by the door of the "iglesia." Therestands a large vase filled with the consecrated water. Each, in passingout, takes a dip and a sprinkle. In this basin you will see the smalljewelled hand immerse its finger-tips, and the next moment adroitlydeliver a _carte d'amour_ to some cloaked cavallero. Perhaps you maysee the wealthy senora, in the safe disguise of the serape, leave thechurch in a direction opposite to that by which she came. If you arecurious enough to follow--which would be extremely ill-bred--you maywitness under the trees of the "alameda," or some unfrequented quarter,the forbidden "_entrevista_."

  The morning, in a Mexican city, has its adventures as well as the night.

  The bell of the church of San Ildefonso had just commenced to ring for"oracion," when a female form was seen issuing from the gateway of oneof the largest mansions of the town, and taking the direction of thechurch. It was yet scarce daybreak, and the person thus observed wasclosely muffled; but her tall upright form, the dignity and grace of hercarriage, and the proud elastic step told that she was a grand senora.As she reached the portal of the church she stopped for some moments andlooked around. Her face was not visible, as it was "tapada" under thefolds of a closely-drawn manta; but her attitude, with her headoccasionally moving around, showed that she was scanning the figuresthat, at the summons of the bell, approached like shadows through thegrey light. She was evidently expecting some one; and from the eagerscrutiny with which she regarded each new form that entered the plaza,it was some one whose presence was much desired.

  The last of the devotees had arrived and entered the church. It wouldbe idle to remain longer; and, turning on her heel with an air thatbetokened disappointment, the lady glided across the portal, anddisappeared through the door.

  In another moment she was kneeling in front of the altar, repeating herorisons and telling over the beads of her rosary.

  She was not the last to enter the church; still another devotee camelater. About the time that she was leaving the portal a carreta droveinto the plaza, and halted in a remote corner. A young girl leaped outof the carreta, tripped nimbly across the square, in the direction ofthe church, and passed within the portal. The dress of this new-comer--a flaming red "nagua," broidered chemisette, and reboso--showed that shebelonged to the poorer class of citizens. She was a poblana.

  She entered the church, but before kneeling she threw an inquiringglance along the array of backs. Her eye became fixed upon one that wascovered with a manta. It was that of the lady of whom we have spoken.This seeme
d to satisfy the poblana, who, gliding over the floor, kneltdown in such a position that her elbow almost rested against that of thelady.

  So silently had this movement been executed that the lady did notperceive her new neighbour until a slight "nudge" upon the elbow causedher to start and look round. A gleam of satisfaction lit up herfeatures, though her lips continued to repeat the prayer, as if nothinghad happened.

  After a while came the cue for adopting the pose of rest, and then thetwo kneeling figures--senorita and poblana--dropped towards each other,so that their arms touched. A moment later and two hands becameuncovered--one a little brown-skinned paw from under the reboso--theother, a delicate arrangement of white and jewelled fingers, from themanta.

  They came in contact as if by a mutual understanding, and, though theywere _en rapport_ but a half-second, a close observer might have noticeda small roll of paper passed from one to the other--from the brownfingers to the white ones! It would have required a close observer tohave noticed this manoeuvre, for so adroitly was it executed that noneof those kneeling around, either in front or rear, saw anything amiss.

  The two hands again disappeared under their respective covers; thelittle bell tinkled, and both senora and poblana once more shot into anupright position, and, with most devout looks, repeated the prayers ofthe misa.

  When the "oracion" was over, and while sprinkling themselves at thesacred fount, a few hurried words passed between them; but they went outof the church separately, and walked off in separate directions. Thepoblana hastened across the square, and disappeared into a narrowstreet. The senora walked proudly back to the mansion whence she hadcome, her countenance radiant with joyful anticipation.

  As soon as she had entered the house she proceeded directly to her ownchamber, and, opening the little folded slip of paper, read:--

  "Querida Catalina!--You have made me happy. But an hour ago I was themost wretched of men. I have lost my sister, and I feared your esteem.Both are restored to me. My sister is by my side, and the gem thatsparkles on my finger tells me that even calumny has failed to rob me ofyour friendship--your love. _You_ do not deem me an assassin. No; noram I one. I have been an avenger, but no assassin. You shall knowall--the fearful plot of which I and mine have been the victims. It isscarce credible--so great is its atrocity! I am indeed its victim. Ican no more show myself in the settlement. I am henceforth to be huntedlike the wolf, and treated as one, if captured. I care not for that, solong as I know that you are not among my enemies.

  "But for you I should go far hence. I cannot leave you. I would soonerrisk life every hour in the day, than exile myself from the spot whereyou dwell--you, the only being I can ever love.

  "I have kissed the gem a hundred times. In life, the sweet token cannever part from me.

  "My foes are after me like bloodhounds, but I fear them not. My bravesteed is never out of my sight, and with him I can scorn my cowardlypursuers. But I must venture one visit to the town. I must see youonce, querida. I have words for you I cannot trust to paper. Do notrefuse to see me, and I shall come to the old place of meeting.To-morrow night--midnight. Do not refuse me, dearest love. I have muchto explain that I cannot without seeing you face to face. You shallknow that I am not an assassin--that I am still worthy of being yourlover.

  "Thanks!--thanks for your kindness to my poor little wounded bird! Itrust to God she will soon be well again. _Mi querida. Adios_!"

  When the beautiful lady had finished reading the note, she pressed it toher lips, and fervently kissed it.

  "Worthy of being my lover!" she murmured; "ay, worthy to be the lover ofa queen! Brave, noble Carlos!"

  Again she kissed the paper, and, thrusting it into her bosom, glidedsoftly from the apartment.