The Infidel; or, the Fall of Mexico. Vol. I.

by Robert Montgomery Bird

  CHAPTER XI.

  No sooner had the Alguazil departed from the enclosure, than the figurewhich Juan had beheld obscurely among the shadows, stepped slowly intothe moonshine, looking like a phantom, because so closely shrouded fromhead to foot that nothing was seen but the similitude of a human being,wrapped, as it might be imagined, in a gray winding-sheet. The thickhood and veil concealed her countenance, and even her hands were hiddenamong the folds.

  It seemed, for a moment, as if she were about to speak, for low murmurscame inarticulately from the veil. As for Juan himself, he was keptsilent by the most painful agitation. At last, and when it appeared asif the unhappy being was conscious that no other mode of revealment wasin her power, she raised her hand to her head, and the next moment, thehood falling back, the moonbeams fell upon the exposed visage of LaMonjonaza. It was exceedingly, indeed deadly, pale; and the gleaming ofher dewy forehead indicated how feebly even her powerful strength ofmind contended with a sense of humiliation. She made an effort toelevate her head, to compose her features into womanly dignity, but allin vain; her hands sought each other, and were clasped together upon herbreast, her lips quivered, her head fell, and her eyes, after one wild,brief, and supplicating glance, were cast upon the earth.

  "Alas, Magdalena!" exclaimed Juan, with tones of the deepest feeling,"do I see you here, do I see you _thus_?"

  At these words she raised her head, with a sudden and convulsive start,as if the imputation they conveyed had stung her to the soul; and as shebent her eyes upon Juan, though they were filled with tears, yet theyflashed with what seemed a noble indignation. But this was soon changedto a milder and sadder expression, and the flush which had accompaniedit, was quickly replaced by her former paleness.

  "Thou dost indeed see me here," she replied, summoning her resolution,and speaking firmly, "and thou seest me thus,--degraded, not in thineimagination only, but in the suspicions of all, down to the level ofscorn. Yes," she continued, bitterly, "and while thou pitiest me for ashame endured only for thyself,--endured only that I may requite theewith life for life,--thou art sorry thy hand ever snatched me from thebillows. Speak, Juan Lerma, is it not so?"

  "It had been better, Magdalena," said the youth, reproachfully, "for,besides that the act caused me to be stained with blood, it afflicts mewith a curse still more heavy. I do not mourn the death of Hilario, as Imourn the downfall of one whom I once esteemed almost a seraph."

  "Villain that he was!" cried Magdalena, with vindictive impetuosity,"mean and malignant in life and in death! who, with a lie, living,destroyed the peace and the fame of the friendless, and died with a lie,that both might remain blighted for ever! O wretch! O wretch! there isno punishment for him among the fiends, for he was of their nature. Andthou mournest his death, too! Thou cursest the hand that avenged thewrong of a feeble woman!"

  "I lament that I slew the son of my benefactor," said Juan, with a deepsigh; and then added with one still deeper, "but, sinner that I am, Irejoice while looking on thee, in the fierce thought, that I killed thedestroyer of innocence."

  "The destroyer of innocence indeed," replied Magdalena, with a voicebroken and suffocating. "Yes, innocence!" she exclaimed more wildly, "orat least, the _fame_ of innocence! for innocence herself he could notharm. No, by heaven! oh, no! for what I came from the sea, that I am_now_; yes, now, I tell thee, now! and if thou darest give tongue toaught else, if thou darest think--Oh heaven! this is more than I canbear! Say, Juan Lerma! say! dost _thou_, too, believe me the thing I amcalled? the base, the fallen, the degraded?"

  "Alas, Magdalena," replied Juan, to the wild demand: "with his dyinglips, Hilario----"

  "With his dying lips, he perjured his soul for ever!" exclaimedMagdalena, "for ever, for ever!" she went on, with inexpressible energyand fury; "and may the curse of a broken-hearted woman, destroyed by hisdefaming malice, cling to him as long, scorching him with freshtorments, even when fiends grow relentful and forbearing. Mountains offire requite the coals he has thrown upon my bosom! May God neverforgive him! no, never! never!"

  "This is horrid!" said Juan. "Revoke thy malediction: it is impiety.Alas, alas!" he continued, moved with compassion, as the singular being,passing at once from a sibyl-like rage to the deepest and most feminineabasement of grief, wrung her hands, and sobbed aloud and bitterly;"Would indeed that thou hadst perished with the others!"

  "Would that I had!" said Magdalena, more calmly; "but thou hadst thenbeen left to a malice like that which has slain me.--No, not like that;for it is content with thy _life_!--I would ask thee more of myself,"she went on, more composedly, after a little pause, "but it needs not.If I can show thee thou wrongest me concerning Hilario, canst thou notbelieve I may be even _here_ without stain? Well, I care not; one day,thou wilt know thou hast wronged me. But let the shame rest upon me now;for it needs I should think, not of myself, but of thee. Listen to me,Juan Lerma; for fallen or not, yet am I thine only friend among athousand enemies. Give up thy service, thy hopes of fame and fortune inthis land, and leave it. Leave Mexico, return to the islands. Thou hastmarvellously escaped a death, subtly and cruelly designed; and now thouart destined to an end as vengeful, and perhaps even more inevitable.Yet there is one way of escape, and there is one moment to takeadvantage of it. Leave Mexico: Cortes is thy foe.--Leave Mexico."

  "These are but wild words, Magdalena," said Juan, with a troubled voice."I would do much to remove _thee_ from a situation, the thought whereofis bitterer to me than my own misfortunes."

  "Wouldst thou?" said Magdalena, eagerly. "Go then, and I go likewise; gothen, and know that thy departure not only releases me from a situationof disgrace, but enables me to make clear a reputation which thou--yes,_thou_,--believest to be sullied and lost. I am not what I seem--Saintsof heaven, that I should have to say it! But by the grave of my mother,I swear, Juan Lerma, thou doest me as deep a wrong as others. Leave thisland, and thou shalt see that the fame of an angel is not purer thanmine own scorned name,--no, by heaven, no freer from a deserved shame.Thou shakest thy head!--I could kill thee, Juan Lerma, I could killthee!"--she went on, with a strange mingling of fierce resentment andbeseeching grief; "I could kill thee, for I have not deserved this ofthee!" Then, changing her tone, and clasping her hands submissively, shesaid, "But think not of me, or rather continue to think me unworthy ofaught but pity: think not, above all, that what I do is with anyreference to myself. No, heaven is my witness, I claim of thee neitheraffection nor respect; I am content to be mistaken, to be despised. Allthis I can endure, and will, uncomplaining,--so that I can rescue theefrom the danger in which thou art placed. Leave this land: Don Hernandeceives thee; he hates thee, and thirsts after thy blood. He hasconfessed it!"

  "God be my help!" said Juan, despairingly; "my life is in his hands. Ifthis be true--"

  "If it be true!" repeated Magdalena: "It is known to all but thyself."

  "It is _not_ true!" exclaimed the young man, vehemently: "I have donehim no wrong, and he is not the detestable being you would make him. Ifhe be, I owe him a life--let him have it; it is in his hands."

  "Leave Mexico," reiterated Magdalena. "If thou goest to Tochtepec, thouart lost. I have it in my power to aid,--nay, to secure thy escape. Say,therefore, thou wilt consent, say thou wilt leave Mexico!"

  "It cannot be," said Juan, with a sad and sullen resolution: "I willawait my fate in Mexico!"

  "And wilt thou stand, like the fat ox, till the noose is cast upon thyneck? till thou art butchered?"

  "My life is nothing--I live not for myself; the redemption of othersdepends upon my acts. I have a duty that speaks more urgently than fear.My lot is cast in Mexico; I cannot leave it."

  As he spoke, with a firm voice, he bent his looks expressively on hiscompanion. Her eyes flashed fire, and they shone from her pale face likeliving coals:

  "Sayst thou this to me?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with fury,"sayst thou this to me?" Then advancing a step, and laying her hand uponhis arm, she continued, her accents sinking almost into whispers
, theywere so subdued, or so feeble, "Lay not upon thy soul a sin greater thanstains it already. Leave Mexico; resolve or die: leave Mexico, orperish!--Oh, thou art guiltier than thou thinkest! Thou hast cursedHilario for my fall: curse thyself,--not Hilario, but thyself; for butfor thee, but for thee, I had been happy! yes, happy, happy!"

  To these words, Juan, though greatly compassionating the distress of thespeaker, would have replied with remonstrance; but she gave him noopportunity. She continued to repeat over and over again, with a kind ofhysterical pertinacity, the words 'Leave Mexico! leave Mexico!' so thatJuan was not only prevented replying, but confounded. He was relievedfrom embarrassment by a sudden growl, coming from the bushes at hisside. La Monjonaza started at the sound, and in the moment of silencethat succeeded, both could distinguish the steps of a man rapidlyapproaching the pool. At the same instant, another growl was heard, andBefo, issuing from the leafy covert, took a stand by his master's side,as if to defend him from an enemy. The veil of Magdalena fell over hervisage; she paused but to whisper, in tones of such energy that theythrilled him to the soul, 'Leave Mexico, or die!' and then instantlyvanished among the boughs. It was too late for Juan to follow her: hehad scarce time to lay his hand upon Befo's neck and moderate hisferocity, before his eyes were struck with the strange spectacle of atall man, in the garb of a Dominican friar, his face pale as death, hishand holding a naked sword, who strode into the inclosure and upon thatpart of the path which was illuminated by the moonbeams. No sooner hadhe cast his eyes upon Juan than he exclaimed, "Die, wretch!" and made apass at him with his weapon. Had the lunge been skilfully made, it musthave proved fatal; for though Juan still held the sheathless rapier hehad brought from his chamber, he was so much surprised at the suddennessof the apparition, that his attempt to ward it could not have succeededagainst a good fencer. A better protection was given by the faithfulBefo, who, darting from Juan's hand, against the assailant's breast,attacked him with a shock so violent, that, in an instant, the senorCamarga (for it was he who played this insane part) lay rolling upon hisback, his grizzled locks streaming in the pool.

  "In the name of heaven, what dost thou mean, and who art thou, impostorand assassin!" cried Juan, pulling off the dog, and helping Camarga tohis feet. "Thou art mad, I think!"

  There was something in the man's countenance, as well as in themurderous attempt, to confirm the idea; for Camarga's agitation wassingular and extreme, and he seemed unable to answer a word.

  "Who art thou?" continued Juan angrily, impressed with the certaintythat he had seen the face of the assailant before, yet without knowingwhen or where. "Confess thyself straight, or I will have thee to theAlguazil, and see the friar's frock scourged from thy base body!"

  However eager and foreboding the young man's curiosity, it was doomed tobe disappointed by a new interruption. While he yet spoke, he wasalarmed by a sudden discharge of firearms, followed by shrieks andcries, at the bottom of the garden; and presently the whole solitude wastransformed into a scene of tumult and uproar. Lights were seen flashingamong the trees, and men were heard running confusedly to and fro,calling to one another.

  The last word had hardly parted from his lips, before the boughs crashedon the opposite side of the pool, and a new actor was suddenly added tothe scene.