The Adventurers

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  THE ABDUCTION.

  Whilst the ceremony we have described was being accomplished, a terribleevent was passing not far from it, on the banks of the river, in thecamp of Don Tadeo de Leon. The three parties which divided Chili, andaimed at governing it, had, as if of one accord, chosen the day for therenewal of the treaty to throw off the mask and give their partisans thesignal of revolt. Don Tadeo, who feared everything from Dona Maria andthe General's spies, had consented, but with regret, that Rosario shouldaccompany him to the plain, to be present at the ceremony; he had takenher from the convent, and brought the young girl with him, inwardlypleased that she would thus not be in Valdivia during the serious eventsthat were there preparing.

  Dona Rosario, to tell the truth, had only consulted her love in therequest she had made of her guardian; the desire of seeing unobserved,for a few hours, the object of her affections, had dictated it. DonTadeo, who could not on any account be present at the ceremony, beingobliged to conceal himself, took the two young Frenchmen aside as soonas his little encampment was arranged. It was then about seven o'clockin the morning, and the crowd began to flock to the plain. The King ofDarkness cast a prudent and searching look around, but, reassured by thecomplete solitude that prevailed, he at length decided upon explainingto the young men, who were astonished at this strange proceeding, allthat appeared so unusual and inconsistent in his conduct.

  "Caballeros," he said, "since I have had the honour of knowing you, Ihave concealed nothing from you, and you know all my secrets; this daymust decide the question of life or death to which, from my boyhood,I have devoted all the energies of my mind. I must leave this spotinstantly, and return to Valdivia. It is in that city that the firstblow will be struck, within a few hours, against the tyrant, and thestruggle I expect will be terrible. I am not willing to expose theyoung lady whom you know, and whose life you have already saved, to thechances of it. I confide the care of her to one of you, the other willaccompany me to the city. In the event of any fatal mischance happeningto me, I will place in his hands a paper, which will inform you both ofmy intentions, and of what I wish you to do with that poor child, who isall I hold dear on earth, and whom I leave with the greatest pain. Whichof you, gentlemen, will take charge of Dona Rosario during my absence?"

  "Be at ease, Don Tadeo, go where your duty calls you," Louis answered,in a solemn but agitated tone; "I swear that while I live no danger,either near or distant, shall assail her; to reach her it must pass overmy dead body."

  "Receive my warmest thanks, Don Louis," the Dark-Heart replied, somewhatsurprised, and yet affected by the manner of the Frenchman; "I placeimplicit faith in your words; I know you will keep your vow at allrisks; besides, in a few hours I hope I shall be back, and here she canhave nothing to dread."

  "I will watch over her," the young man said, quietly.

  "Once again I thank you."

  Don Tadeo left the young men, and returned to the tent where DonaRosario, reclining in a hammock, was gently swinging herself, andindulging in perhaps pleasing reveries. On seeing her guardian, shesprang up eagerly.

  "Do not disturb yourself, my child," said Don Tadeo, putting her backwith a gentle hand, "I have but two words to say to you."

  "I am always attentive to you, my kind friend."

  "I have come to bid you farewell."

  "Farewell, Don Tadeo!" she exclaimed, in great terror.

  "Oh! comfort yourself, timid darling! only for a few hours."

  "Ah! that is all!" she said, with a smile of satisfaction.

  "Certainly, all! There is in this neighbourhood an exceedingly curiousgrotto. I was foolish enough to let some words slip concerning it thismorning before Don Valentine, and that demon of a Frenchman," he added,with a smile, "insists upon my showing it to him; so that, in order toget rid of his importunities, I have been obliged to comply."

  "You have done quite right," she said, eagerly; "we are under greatobligations to those two French caballeros, and what he asked is such atrifle!"

  "That it would have been uncourteous on my part to refuse him," DonTadeo interrupted, "therefore I have not. We shall set off directly,in order to be the sooner back. Be as cheerful as you can during ourabsence, dear child."

  "I will endeavour," she said, absently.

  "Besides, I shall leave Don Louis to take care of you; you can chattogether, and the time will quickly pass away."

  The young girl blushed as she stammered--"Come back soon, dear friend."

  "Time to go and return, that is all; adieu, then, darling!"

  Don Tadeo left the tent, and rejoined the young men.

  "Adieu, Don Louis!" he said. "Are you ready, Don Valentine?"

  "Ready!" the Frenchman replied, laughing; "Caramba! I should be indespair at losing such an opportunity of judging whether you understandgetting up revolutions as well as we Frenchmen do."

  "Oh! We are but young at the work yet," Don Tadeo remarked; "and yet webegin to have some idea of the matter, I assure you."

  "Good-bye, Louis, for a time," said Valentine, pressing his friend'shand; and stooping towards his ear, he added--"Be thankful to yourstars, do you not see that Heaven protects your love?" The young manonly replied by shaking his head despondingly, and sighing deeply. Apeon had brought the horses for the two Chilians and the Frenchman,and they were soon in the saddle. They set off at a quick pace, andwere quickly lost in the high grass and the windings of the road. Louisreturned pensively to the camp, where he found Dona Rosario alone in hertent; the two Indian chiefs, attracted by curiosity, having gone in thedirection of the chapel, where, mingled with the crowd, they might bepresent at the ceremony. The arrieros and the peons had not been long infollowing their example.

  The young girl was seated on a heap of dyed sheepskins in front ofthe tent, dreamily looking at, but without seeing, the clouds whichwere driven across the heavens by a strong breeze. Dona Rosario wasa charming girl of sixteen, slender, fragile, and delicate, small inperson, whose least gestures and least movements possessed inexpressibleattractions. Of a rare kind of beauty in America, she was fair; herlong silky hair was of the colour of ripe golden corn; her blue eyes,in which were reflected the azure of the heavens, had that melancholy,dreamy expression which we attribute only to angels, and young girls whoare beginning to love; her nose, with its pinky nostrils, was inclinedto be aquiline; while her mouth, rather serious, with rosy lips setoff by teeth of dazzling whiteness, and her skin of pearl-like purity,altogether made her a charming creature.

  The noise of the approaching young man's steps roused her from herreverie. She turned her head in the direction, and looked at him withinexpressible sadness, although a faint smile played upon her lips.

  "It is I," said the Count, in a low, inarticulate voice, bowingrespectfully.

  "I knew of your coming," she replied, in a sweetly-toned voice. "Oh! whydid you return to me at all?"

  "Be not angry with me for drawing near you once more. I endeavoured toobey you; I left the spot you resided in, without, alas! even the hopeof seeing you again; but destiny has decided otherwise."

  She gave him a long and eloquent look.

  "Unfortunately," he continued, with a melancholy smile, "you arecondemned for some hours to endure my presence."

  "I must resign myself to it," she said, extending her hand to himcordially.

  The young man imprinted a burning kiss upon the white, soft hand he held.

  "And so we are left alone!" she said gaily, but withdrawing her hand.

  "Good heavens! yes, nearly so," he replied, falling in with her humour."The Indian chiefs and the peons, overcome by curiosity, have joined thecrowds, and kindly procured us a _tete-a-tete_."

  "In the midst of ten thousand people!" she said, smiling.

  "That is all the better; everyone is engaged with his own affairs,without troubling himself about those of others; and we can speak toeach other without the fear of being interrupted by importunate persons."

  "True," she said, t
houghtfully; "it is frequently amidst a crowd that wefind the greatest solitude."

  "Does not the heart possess that great faculty of being able to isolateitself when it pleases--to fold itself, as it were, within itself?"

  "And is not that faculty often a misfortune?"

  "Perhaps it is," he replied, with a sigh.

  "But how comes it?" she said, with a half-smiling air, in order tochange the conversation, which was becoming a little too serious."Pardon my giddy impertinence! How comes it, I say, that you, of whom Isometimes caught a glimpse at Paris, during my short sojourn there, andwho then enjoyed, if I was not mistaken, a brilliant position, shouldmeet me here so far from your country?"

  "Alas! madam, my history is that of many young men, and may be summed upin two words--weakness and ignorance."

  "That is but too true; that is the history of nearly all the world, inEurope as well as in America."

  At this moment a great noise reached them from the camp. Dona Rosarioand the Count were placed so as not to be able to see what was passingin the plain.

  "What is that noise?" she asked.

  "Probably the tumult of the festival which reaches us: should you liketo be present at this ceremony?"

  "To what purpose? Those cries and that tumult terrify me."

  "And yet, I thought it was you who asked Don Tadeo to see this."

  "A silly girl's caprice," she said, "which passed away as soon asconceived."

  "But was it not Don Tadeo's intention to----"

  "Who can tell Don Tadeo's intention?" she interrupted, with a sigh.

  "He appears to love you tenderly?" Louis hazarded, timidly.

  "Sometimes I am on the point of believing so; he pays me the mostdelicate attentions, shews me the tenderest care; then at other times heappears to endure me with, pain--he repulses me--my caresses annoy him."

  "Singular conduct!" the Count observed; "this gentleman is yourrelation, there can be no doubt."

  "I do not know," she replied ingenuously; "when alone and pensive, mythoughts stray back to my early years. I have some vague remembrance ofa young and handsome woman, whose black eyes smiled upon me constantly,and whose rosy lips lavished affectionate kisses upon me; and then, allat once, a complete darkness comes over my brain, and memory entirelyfails me. As far back as I can recollect, I find nobody but Don Tadeowatching over me, everywhere and always, as a father would do over hisdaughter."

  "Perhaps, then," said the Count, "he is your father."

  "Listen. One day, after a long and dangerous illness which I had justgone through, and in which Don Tadeo had night and day watched overmy pillow for more than a month, happy at seeing me restored to life,for he had been fearful he should lose me, he smiled upon me tenderly,kissed my brow and my hands, and appeared to experience the mostlively joy. 'Oh!' I said, as a sudden thought rushed across my mind;'oh! you are my father! None but a father could devote himself withsuch abnegation for his child!' and throwing my arms round his neck,I concealed my tear-laden face on his chest. Don Tadeo arose, hiscountenance was lividly pale, his features were frightfully contracted;he repulsed me roughly, and strode hastily about the chamber. I Yourfather! I! Dona Rosario!' he cried, in a husky voice, 'you are a silly,poor child! Never repeat those words again; your father is dead, andyour mother, likewise, long, long ago. I am not your father--neverrepeat that word--I am only your friend. Yes, your father, at the pointof death, confided you to my care, and that is why I am bringing you up,that is why I watch over you; as to me, I am not even your relation!'His agitation was extreme; he said many other things which I do not nowremember, and then he left me. Alas! from that day I have never venturedto ask him for any account of my family."

  A silence ensued; the two young people were pensively thoughtful: thesimple and touching recital of Dona Rosario had strongly affected theCount. At length he said, in a tremulous voice,--

  "Let _me_ love you, Dona Rosario!"

  The maiden sighed.

  "To what could that love lead, Don Louis?" she said sadly,--"to death,perhaps!"

  "Oh!" he exclaimed madly; "and it would be welcome, if it came in yourdefence!"

  At this very instant, several individuals rushed into the tent, utteringdiscordant cries. Quick as thought, the Count threw himself before theyoung girl, a pistol in each hand. But, as if Heaven had decreed that heshould accomplish the wish he had just uttered, before he had time todefend himself, he was struck to the earth, stabbed by several machetes.In falling, he saw, as if in a dream, Dona Rosario seized by twoindividuals, who fled away with her in their arms. With an incredibleeffort, the young man succeeded in getting on his knees, and afterwardsin rising altogether. He beheld the ravishers hastening towards theirhorses, which were being held at a short distance by an Indian. Hetook aim at the flying wretches, crying, with a faint voice, "Murder!Murder!" and fired.

  One of the ravishers fell, uttering an imprecation of rage. The Count,exhausted by the superhuman effort he had made, staggered like a drunkenman; the blood gushed from his ears, his sight grew dim, and he rolledsenseless upon the ground.