The Adventurers

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  THE MATRICIDE.

  We have repeatedly said that in times of peace the Araucanos areexceedingly hospitable. This hospitality, which on the part ofthe warriors is cordial and simple, on that of the chiefs becomesextravagant. Antinahuel was far from being a rude Indian, attachedthough he was to the customs of his fathers; and although in his hearthe hated not only the Spaniards, but indiscriminately all belonging tothe white race, the half-civilized education he had received had givenhim ideas of comfort completely above Indian habits. Many of the richestChilian farmers would have found it impossible to display greater luxurythan he exhibited when his caprice or his interest led him to do so.On the present occasion, he was not sorry to show strangers that theAraucanos were not so barbarous as their arrogant neighbours wished itto be supposed, and that they could, when necessary, rival even them.At the first glance, Antinahuel had discovered that his guests were notSpaniards; but, with the circumspection which forms the foundation ofthe Indian character, he confined his observations to his own breast. Itwas with the kindest air and in the most winning tone of voice that hepressed them to enter his toldo.

  The Frenchmen followed him in, and with a gesture he requested themto be seated. Peons placed a profusion of cigars and cigarettes uponthe table, near a tasty filigree brasero. In a few minutes otherpeons entered with the mate, which they respectfully presented to thechief and his guests. Then, without the silence being broken--for theAraucanian laws of hospitality require that no question should beaddressed to strangers until they think proper to speak themselves--eachsipped the herb of Paraguay, while smoking. This preliminary operationbeing gone through, Valentine rose.

  "I thank you, chief, in the name of myself and my friend, for yourcordial hospitality."

  "Hospitality is a duty which every Araucano is jealous to fulfil!"

  "But," replied Valentine, "as I have been given to understand that thechief is about to set out on a journey, I do not wish to detain him."

  "I am at the orders of my guests; my journey is not so pressing as notto admit of being put off for a few hours."

  "I thank the chief for his courtesy, but I hope he will soon be atliberty."

  Antinahuel bowed.

  "A Spaniard has charged me with a letter for the chief."

  "Ah!" the toqui exclaimed, with a singular intonation, and fixing apiercing look upon the face of the young man.

  "Yes," the Frenchman continued; "and that letter I am about to have thehonour of handing to you."

  And he put his hand to his breast, to take out the letter.

  "Stop!" said the chief, laying his hand upon his arm, as he turnedtowards his servants; adding, "leave the room." The three men were leftalone.

  "Now you may give me the letter," he continued.

  The chief took it, looked carefully at the superscription, turned thepaper in all directions in his hand, and then, with some hesitation,presented it to the young man.

  "Let my brother read it," he said; "the whites are more learned than wepoor Indians: they know everything."

  Valentine gave his countenance the most silly expression possible.

  "I cannot read this," he said, with well-assumed embarrassment.

  "Does my brother then refuse to render me this service?" the chiefpressed him.

  "I do not refuse you, chief; only I am prevented doing what you requestby a very simple reason."

  "And what is that reason?"

  "It is that my companion and I are both Frenchmen."

  "Well, and what then?"

  "We speak a little Spanish, but we cannot read it."

  "Ah!" said the chief, in a tone of doubt; but, after walking about, andreflecting a minute, he added,--"Hem! that is possible."

  He then turned towards the two Frenchmen, who, on their part, were, inappearance, impassive and indifferent.

  "Let my brothers wait an instant," he said; "I know a man in my tribewho understands the marks which the whites make upon paper: I will goand order him to translate this letter."

  The young men bowed, and the chief left the apartment.

  "Why the devil did you refuse to read the letter?" Louis asked.

  "In good truth," Valentine replied, "I can scarcely tell you why; butwhat you said of the expression of this man's countenance, produced acertain effect upon me. He inspires me with no confidence, and I am notanxious to be the depository of secrets which he may some day reclaim ina disagreeable manner."

  "Yes, you are right! We may, some day, congratulate ourselves upon thiscircumspection. Hush! I hear footsteps."

  And the chief re-entered the room.

  "I know the contents of the letter," he said; "if my brothers see theman who charged them with it, they will inform him that I am setting outthis very day for Valdivia."

  "We would, with pleasure, take charge of that message," repliedValentine; "but we do not know the person who gave us the letter, and itis more than probable we may never see him again."

  The chief darted at them a stolen and deeply suspicious glance.

  "Good! Will my brothers remain here, then?"

  "It would give us infinite pleasure to pass a few hours in the agreeablesociety of the chief, but with us time presses; with his permission, wewill take our leave."

  "My brothers are perfectly free; my toldo is open for those who leaveit, as well as for those who enter it."

  The young men rose to depart.

  "In what direction are my brothers going?"

  "We are bound for Concepcion."

  "Let my brothers go in peace, then! If their course lay towardsValdivia, I would have offered to journey with them."

  "A thousand thanks, chief, for your kind offer; unfortunately we cannotprofit by it, for our road lies in a completely opposite direction."

  The three men exchanged a few more words of courtesy, and left thetoldo. The Frenchmen's horses had been brought round; they mounted, andafter having saluted the chief once more, they set off. As soon as theywere out of the village, Louis, turning to Valentine, said,--

  "We have not an instant to lose. If we wish to reach Valdivia beforethat man, we must make all speed. Who knows whether Don Tadeo may not beawaiting our arrival impatiently?"

  They soon rejoined their friends, who looked for them anxiously, and allfour set off at full speed in the direction of Valdivia, without beingable to explain to themselves why they used such diligence. Antinahuelaccompanied his guests a few paces out of his toldo. When he had takenleave of them, he followed them with his eyes as far as he could seethem, and when they disappeared at the extremity of the village, hereturned thoughtfully and slowly to his toldo, saying to himself,--

  "It is evident to me that these men are deceiving me; their refusal toread the letter was nothing but a pretext. What can be their object? Canthey be enemies? I will watch them!"

  When he arrived in front of his toldo, he found his mosotones mounted,and awaiting his orders.

  "I must set out at once," he said; "I shall learn all yonder, and,perhaps," he added, in a voice so low that he could hardly hear ithimself, "perhaps I shall find _her_ again. If Dona Maria breaks herpromise, and does not give her up to me, woe, woe be to her!"

  He raised his head, and saw his mother standing before him. "What do youwant, woman?" he asked, harshly; "this is not your place!"

  "My place is near you when you are suffering, my son," she mildlyreplied.

  "I suffering! You are mad, mother! age has turned your brain! Go backinto the toldo, and, during my absence, keep a good watch over all thatbelongs to me."

  "Are you, then, really going, my son?"

  "This moment," he said, and sprang into his saddle.

  "Where are you going?" she asked, and seized his horse's bridle.

  "What is that to you?" he replied, with an ugly glance.

  "Beware! my son; you are entering on a bad course. Guerubu, the spiritof evil, is master of your heart."

  "I am the best and sole judge of my actions."

&n
bsp; "You shall not go!" she exclaimed, as she placed herself resolutely infront of his horse.

  The Indians collected round the speakers looked on with mute terror atthis scene; they were too well acquainted with the violent and imperiouscharacter of Antinahuel not to dread something fatal, if his motherpersisted in endeavouring to prevent his departure.

  The brows of the chief lowered--his eyes gleamed like lightning--and itwas not without a great effort that he mastered the passion boiling inhis breast.

  "I will go!" he said, in a loud voice, and trembling with rage; "I willgo, if I trample you beneath my horse's hoofs!"

  The woman clung convulsively to the saddle, and looked her son in theface.

  "Do so," she cried; "for, by the soul of your father, who now hunts inthe blessed prairies with Pillian, I swear I will not stir, even if youpass over my body!"

  The face of the Indian became horribly contracted; he cast around aglance which made the hearts of the bravest tremble with fear.

  "Woman! woman!" he shouted, grinding his teeth with rage; "get out of myway, or I shall crush you like a reed!"

  "I will not stir, I tell you!" she repeated, with wild energy.

  "Take care! take care!" he said again; "I shall forget you are mymother!"

  "I will not stir!"

  A nervous tremor shook the limbs of the chief, who had now attained thehighest paroxysm of fury.

  "If you will have it so," he cried, in a husky, but loud voice, "yourblood be upon your own head!"

  And he dug the spurs into the sides of his horse, which plunged withpain, and then sprung forward like an arrow, dragging along the poorwoman, whose body was soon but one huge wound. A cry of horror burstfrom the quivering lips of the terrified Indians. After a few minutesof this senseless course, during which she had left fragments of herflesh on every sharp point of the road, the strength of the Indian womanabandoned her; she left her hold of the bridle, and sank dying.

  "Oh!" she said, in a faint voice, and following, with a look dimmed byagony, her son, as he was borne away like a whirlwind, "my unhappy son!my unhappy----"

  She raised her eyes towards heaven, clasped her mangled hands, as if tooffer up a last prayer, and fell back.

  She died pitying the matricide, and pardoning him. The women of thetribe took up the body respectfully, and carried it, weeping, into thetoldo. At the sight of the corpse, an old Indian shook his head severaltimes, murmuring in a prophetic tone,--

  "Antinahuel has killed his mother! Pillian will avenge her!"

  And all bowed down their heads sorrowfully: this atrocious crime madethem dread horrible misfortunes in the future.