CHAPTER VII.
A RETROSPECT.
Before carrying our story further we must give the reader certaindetails about the family and antecedents of Don Sebastian Guerrero, whois destined to play a great part in our narrative.
The family of Don Sebastian was rich; he descended in a straight linefrom one of the early kings of Mexico, and pure Aztec blood flowed inhis veins. Like several other great Mexican families, his ancestors hadnot been dispossessed by the conquerors, to whom they rendered importantservices; but they were obliged to add a Spanish name to the Mexicanone, which sounded harshly in Castilian ears.
Still the Guerrero family boasted loudly of its Aztec origin, and if itseemed ostensibly devoted to Spain, it secretly maintained the hope ofseeing Mexico one day regain her liberty.
Thus, when the heroic Hidalgo, the humble curate of the little villageof Dolores, suddenly raised the standard of revolt against theoppressors of his country, Don Eustaquio Guerrero, though married but ashort time previously to a woman he adored, and father of a son hardlysix years of age, was one of the first to respond to the appeal of theinsurgents, and join Hidalgo at the head of four hundred resolute menraised on his own enormous estates.
The Mexican revolution was a singular one; for nearly all the promotersand heroes were priests--the only country in the world where the clergyhave openly taken the initiative in progress, and thus displayedprofound sympathy for the liberty of the people.
Don Eustaquio Guerrero was in turn companion of those modest heroes whomdisdainful history has almost forgotten, and whose names were, Hidalgo,Morelos, Hermenegildo Galeana, Allende, Abasolo, Aldama, ValerioTrujano, Torres, Rayon, Sotomayor, Manuel Mier-y-Teran, and many otherswhose names have escaped me; and who, after fighting gloriously for theliberty of their country, now repose in their bloody tombs, protected bythat glorious nimbus which Heaven places round the brow of martyrs,whatever be the cause they have defended, so long as that cause is just.
More fortunate than the majority of his brave comrades in arms, who weredestined to fall one after the other, some as victims to Spanishbarbarity, others conquered by treachery, Don Eustaquio escaped as if bya miracle from the innumerable dangers of this war, which lasted tenyears, and at length witnessed the complete expulsion of the Spaniardsand the proclamation of independence.
The brave soldier, prematurely aged, covered with wounds, and disgustedby the ingratitude of his fellow countrymen, who, scarce free, beganattacking each other, and inaugurated that fatal era of_pronunciamientos,_ the list of which is already so long, and will onlybe closed by the ruin of the country, and the loss of its nationality,retired, gloomy and sad, to his Hacienda del Palmar, situated in theprovince of Valladolid, and sought, in the company of his wife and son,to recover some sparks of that happiness he had formerly enjoyed when hewas but an obscure citizen.
But this supreme consolation was denied him; his wife died in his armsscarce two years after their reunion, attacked by an unknown disease,which dragged her to the grave in a few weeks.
After the death of the woman he loved with all the strength of his soul,Don Eustaquio, crushed by sorrow, only dragged on a wretched existence,which terminated exactly one year after his wife's death. Her name wasthe last word that wandered on his pallid lips as he drew his partingbreath.
Don Sebastian, who was scarce twenty years of age, was left an orphan.Alone, without relatives or friends, the young man shut himself up inhis hacienda, where he silently bewailed the two beings he had lost,and on whom he had concentrated all his affections.
Don Sebastian would probably have remained for many years in retirement,without seeing the world, or caring how it went on--leading thecareless, idle, and brutalising life of those great land-holders whom noidea of progress or amelioration impels to trouble themselves abouttheir estates, timid and fearful, like all men who live alone, spendinghis days in hunting and sleeping--had not chance, or rather his luckystar, brought to Palmar an old partisan chief who had long fought by theside of Don Eustaquio, and who, happening to pass a few leagues from theplace, felt old reminiscences aroused in him, and determined to pressthe hand of his old comrade, whose death he was not aware of.
The name of this man was Don Isidro Vargas. He was of lofty stature, hisshoulders were wide, his limbs athletic, and his features imprinted withan uncommon energy; in a word, he presented in his person the type ofthat powerful and devoted race which is daily dying out in Mexico, andof which, ere long, not a specimen will be left.
The unexpected arrival of this guest, whose heavy spurs and longsteel-scabbarded sabre re-echoed noisily on the tiled floors of thehacienda, brought life into the mansion which had been so long devotedto silence and the gloomy tranquillity of the cloister.
Like all old soldiers, Captain Don Isidro had a rough voice and sharpway of speaking; his manners were brusque, but his character was gay,and gifted with a rare equanimity of temper.
When he entered the house Don Sebastian was out hunting, and thehacienda seemed uninhabited. The captain at first found enormousdifficulty in meeting with anyone to address. At length, by carefulsearch, he detected a peon half asleep under a verandah, who gave somesort of answer to the questions asked him. By great patience andquestions made with that craft peculiar to the Mexicans, the captainsucceeded in obtaining some valuable information.
The death of Don Eustaquio only astonished the worthy _soldado_slightly; he expected it, indeed, from the moment he learnt the death ofthe senora, for whom he knew his old comrade professed so deep a love;but on learning the idle life Don Sebastian had led since his father'sdeath, the captain burst out in a furious passion, and swore by all thesaints in the Spanish calendar (and they are tolerably numerous), thatthis state of things should not last much longer.
The captain had known the young man when he was but a child. Many timeshe had dandled him on his knee, and thus, with his ideas of honour andgenerosity, he thought himself obliged, as an old friend of his father,to remove the son from the slothful existence he led.
Consequently the old soldier installed himself authoritatively in thehacienda, and firmly awaited the return of the man he had beenaccustomed to regard for a long time almost in the light of a son.
The day passed peacefully. The Indian peons, long accustomed to professthe greatest respect for embroidered hats and jingling sabres, left himfree to act as he pleased--a liberty the old soldier did not at allabuse, for he contented himself with ordering an immense vase full of aninfusion of tamarinds, which he placed on a table, up to which he drew abutaca, and amused himself with smoking an enormous quantity of huskcigarettes, which he made as he wanted them, with that dexterity alonepossessed by the Spanish race.
At about _oracion_ time, or six in the evening, the captain, who hadfallen quietly asleep, was aroused by a great noise, mingled withshouts, barking, and the neighing of horses, which he heard outside.
"Ah, ah!" he said, turning up his moustache, "I fancy the _muchacho_ hasat last arrived."
It was, indeed, Don Sebastian returning from the chase.
The old partisan, who was sitting opposite a window, was enabled toexamine his friend's son at his ease, without being perceived in histurn. He could not repress a smile of satisfaction at the sight of thevigorous young man, with his haughty features bearing the imprint ofboldness, wildness, and timidity, and his well-built limbs.
"What a pity," he muttered to himself, "if such a fine fellow were to beexpended here without profit to himself or to others! It will not be myfault if I do not succeed in rousing the boy from the state of lethargyinto which he is plunged. I owe that to the memory of his poor father."
While making these reflections, as he heard the clanking of spurs in theroom before that in which he was, he fell back on his butaca, and put onagain his usual look of indifference. Don Sebastian entered. He had notseen the captain for several years. The greeting he gave him, thoughslightly awkward and embarrassed, was, however, affectionate. After thefirst compliments they sat down face
to face.
"Well, muchacho," the captain said, suddenly plunging _in medias res_,"you did not expect a visit from me, I fancy?"
"I confess, captain, that I was far from supposing that you would come.To what fortunate accident do I owe your presence in my house?"
"I will tell you presently, muchacho. For the present we will talk aboutother matters, if you have no objection."
"At your ease, captain; I do not wish to displease you in any way."
"We will see that presently, _cuerpo de Dios!_ And in the first place,to speak frankly, I will tell you that I did not come to see you, butyour worthy father, my brave general. _Voto a brios!_ The news of hisdeath quite upset me, and I am not myself again yet."
"I am very grateful, captain, for the kindly memory in which you hold myfather."
"_Capa de Cristo!_" the captain said, who, among other habits more orless excellent, possessed to an eminent degree that of seasoning each ofhis phrases with an oath, at times somewhat unorthodox, "of course Ihold in kind memory the man by whose side I fought for ten years, andto whom I owe it that I am what I am. Yes, I do remember him, and I hopesoon, _canarios!_ To prove it to his son."
"I thank you, captain, though I do not perceive in what way you can giveme this proof."
"Good, good!" he said, gnawing his moustache. "I know how to do it, andthat is enough. Everything will come at its right season."
"As you please, my old friend. At any rate, you will be kind enough toremember that you are at home here, and that the longer you stay thegreater pleasure you will afford me."
"Good, muchacho! I expected that from you. I will avail myself of thehospitality so gracefully offered, but will not abuse it."
"An old comrade in arms of my father's cannot do that in his house,captain, and you less than anyone else. But," he added, seeing a peonenter, "here is a servant come to announce that the dinner is served. Iconfess to you that, as I have been hunting all day, I am now dying ofhunger: if you will follow me we will sit down to the table and renewour acquaintance glass in hand."
"I ask nothing better, _rayo de Dios!_" the captain said as he rose."Though I have not been hunting, I think I shall do honour to therepast."
And without further talking they passed into a dining room, where asumptuously and abundantly-served table awaited them.
According to a patriarchal custom, which, unfortunately, like all goodthings, is beginning to die out, at Palmar the master and servants tooktheir meals together. This custom, which had existed in the family sincethe conquest, Don Sebastian kept up--in the first place, through respectfor his father's memory, and secondly, because the servants at thehacienda were devoted to their master, and to some extent supplied theplace of a family.
The evening passed away, without any incident worthy of remark, inchatting about war and the chase. Captain Don Isidro Vargas was an oldsoldier, as cunning as a monk. Too clever to assail the young man'sideas straightforwardly, he resolved to study him for some time, inorder to discover the weak points of his character, and see how he mustattack him in order to drag him out of that slothful and purposelesslife he led in this forgotten province. Thus several days were passed inhunting and other amusements, and the captain never once alluded to thesubject he had at heart. At times he might make a covert allusion to theactive life of the capital, the opportunities of securing a fineposition which a man of Don Sebastian's age could not fail to find atMexico, if he would take the trouble to go there, and many otherinsinuations of the same nature; but the young man let them pass withoutmaking the slightest observation, or even appearing to understand them.
"Patience!" the captain muttered. "I shall eventually find the flaw inhis cuirass; and if I do not succeed, I must be preciously clumsy."
And he recommenced his covert attacks, not allowing the young man'simpassive indifference to rebuff him.
Don Sebastian performed his duties as master of the house withthoroughly Mexican grace, amenity, and sumptuousness; that is, heinvented every sort of amusement which he thought would be most suitedto the worthy captain's tastes. The latter let him do so with the utmostcoolness, and conscientiously enjoyed the pleasures the young manprocured him, charmed in his heart by the activity he displayed inpleasing him, and more and more persuaded that, if he succeeded inarousing in him the feelings which he supposed were slumbering in hismind, it would be easy to convert him to his own ideas, and make himabandon the absorbing life of a _campesino_.
More than once, during the few days they spent in hunting in themagnificent plains that surrounded the hacienda, accident enabled thecaptain to admire the skill with which the young man managed his steed,and his superiority in all those exercises which demand strength,activity, and, above all, skill.
On one occasion especially, at the moment the hunters galloped inpursuit of a magnificent stag they had put up, they found themselvessuddenly face to face with a cougouar, which threatened to dispute theirprogress. The cougouar is the American lion. It has no mane. Like allthe other carnivora of the New World it cares little about attacking aman, and it is only when reduced to the last extremity that it turnsupon him; but then it fights with a courage and energy that frequentlyrender its approach extremely dangerous.
On the occasion to which we allude the cougouar seemed resolved to awaitits enemies boldly. The captain, but little accustomed to find himselfface to face with such enemies, experienced that internal tremor whichassails the bravest man when he finds himself exposed to a seriousdanger. Still, as the old soldier was notoriously brave, he soonrecovered from this involuntary emotion, and cocked his gun, whilewatching the crouching animal, which fixed its glaring eyes on him.
"Do not fire, captain," Don Sebastian said with a perfectly calm voice;"you are not used to this chase, and, without wishing it, might injurethe skin, which you see is magnificent, and that would be a pity."
Don Sebastian thereupon let his gun fall, took a pistol from hisholster, and spurring his horse at the same time that he checked it,made it rear. The animal rose, and stood almost on its hind legs; thecougouar suddenly bounded forward with a terrible roar; the young mandug his knees into his horse, which bounded on one side, while DonSebastian pulled the trigger. The monster rolled on the ground inconvulsive agony.
"_Cuerpo de Cristo!_" the captain shouted; "why, you've killed it on thespot! No matter, muchacho; you played for a heavy stake."
"Bah!" the other said as he dismounted; "it is not so difficult as youfancy; it only requires practice."
"Hum! It must require practice to shoot such an animal on the wing. Theball has entered its eye."
"Yes, we generally shoot them there, so as not to spoil the skin."
"Ah, very good! To tell you the truth, though, I, who am by no means abad shot, should not like to try the experiment."
"You are calumniating yourself."
"Very possibly."
"Poor Pepe, my tigrero, will lose by that a reward of ten piastres--allthe worse for him. Shall we return to the hacienda, and send someone tobring the brute in?"
"With all my heart."
They went back.
"Hum!" the captain said to himself as they galloped on, "I must have adefinitive explanation with him this very evening."
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