“You did not see the fellow, Don Diego?”
“I did not,” Don Diego said. “That is one stroke of good fortune that came my way.”
Don Alejandro had sent for servants, and now wine mugs were on the long table, and heaps of small cakes, and the caballeros began to eat and drink. Don Diego knew well what that meant. Their pursuit of the highwayman was at an end, their enthusiasm had waned. They would sit at his father’s table and drink throughout the night, gradually getting intoxicated, shout and sing and tell stories, and in the morning ride back to Reina de Los Angeles like so many heroes.
It was the custom. The chase of Señor Zorro was but a pretext for a merry time.
The servants brought great stone jugs filled with rare wine and put them on the table, and Don Alejandro ordered that meat be fetched also. The young caballeros had a weakness for these parties at Don Alejandro’s, for the don’s good wife had been dead for several years, and there were no women folk except servants, and so they could make what noise they pleased throughout the night.
In time they put aside pistols and blades, and began to boast and brag, and Don Alejandro had his servants put the weapons in a far corner out of the way, for he did not wish a drunken quarrel, with a dead caballero or two in his house.
Don Diego drank and talked with them for a time, and then sat to one side and listened, as if such foolishness bored him.
“It were well for this Señor Zorro that we did not catch up with him,” one cried. “Any one of us is a match for the fellow. Were the soldiers men of merit he would have been taken long before this.”
“Ha, for a chance at him!” another screeched. “How the landlord did howl when he was whipped!”
“He rode in this direction?” Don Alejandro asked.
“We are not sure as to that. He took the San Gabriel trail, and thirty of us followed. We separated into three bands, each going a different direction. It is the good fortune of one of the other bands to have him now, I suppose. But it is our excellent good fortune to be here.”
Don Diego stood before the company.
“Señores, you will pardon me, I know, if I retire,” he said. “I am fatigued with the journey.”
“Retire, by all means,” one of his friends cried. “And when you are rested, come out to us again and make merry.”
They laughed at that; and Don Diego bowed ceremoniously, and observed that several scarcely could get to their feet to bow in return, and then the scion of the house of Vega hurried from the room with the deaf and dumb man at his heels.
He entered a room that always was ready for him, and in which a candle already was burning, and closed the door behind him, and Bernardo stretched his big form on the floor just outside it, to guard his master during the night.
In the great living-room, Don Diego scarcely was missed. His father was frowning and twisting his mustache, for he would have had his son like other young men. In his youth, he was remembering, he never left such a company early in the evening. And once again he sighed and wished that the saints had given him a son with red blood in his veins.
The caballeros were singing now, joining in the chorus of a popular love song, and their discordant voices filled the big room. Don Alejandro smiled as he listened, for it brought his own youth back to him.
They sprawled on chairs and benches on both sides of the long table, pounding it with their mugs as they sang, laughing boisterously now and then.
“Were this Señor Zorro only here now!” one of them cried.
A voice from the doorway answered him: “Señores, he is here!”
CHAPTER 25
A LEAGUE IS FORMED
The song ceased; the laughter was stilled. They blinked their eyes and looked across the room. Señor Zorro stood just inside the door, having entered from the veranda without their knowing it. He wore his long cloak and his mask, and in one hand he held his accursed pistol, and its muzzle was pointed at the table.
“So these are the manner of men who pursue Señor Zorro and hope to take him!” he said. “Make not a move, else lead flies! Your weapons, I perceive, are in the corner. I could kill some of you and be gone before you could reach them!”
“’Tis he!’Tis he!” a tipsy caballero was crying.
“Your noise may be heard a mile away, señores! What a posse to go pursuing a man! Is this the way you attend to duty? Why have you stopped to make merry while Señor Zorro rides the highway?”
“Give me my blade and let me stand before him!” one cried.
“If I allowed you to have your blade, you would be unable to stand!” the highwayman answered. “Think you there is one in this company who could fence with me now?”
“There is one!” cried Don Alejandro in a loud voice, springing to his feet. “I openly say that I have admired some of the things you have done, señor; but now you have entered my house and are abusing my guests, and I must call you to account!”
“I have no quarrel with you, Don Alejandro, and you have none with me!” Señor Zorro said. “I refuse to cross blades with you. And I am but telling these men some truths.”
“By the saints, I shall make you!”
“A moment, Don Alejandro! Señores, this aged don would fight me, and that would mean a wound or death for him. Will you allow it?”
“Don Alejandro must not fight our battles!” one of them cried.
“Then see that he sits in his place, and all honor to him!” Don Alejandro started forward, but two of the caballeros sprang before him and urged him to go back, saying that his honor was safe, since he offered combat. Raging, Don Alejandro complied.
“A worthy bunch of young blades!” Señor Zorro sneered. “You drink wine and make merry while injustice is all about you. Take your swords in hand and attack oppression! Live up to your noble names and your blue blood, señores! Drive the thieving politicians from the land! Protect the frailes whose work gave us these broad acres! Be men, not drunken fashion-plates!”
“By the saints!” one cried, and sprang to his feet.
“Back, or I fire! I have not come here to fight you in Don Alejandro’s house. I respect him too much for that. I have come to tell you these truths concerning yourselves.
“Your families can make or break a governor! Band yourselves together in a good cause, caballeros, and make some use of your lives! You would do it, were you not afraid. You seek adventure? Here is adventure a plenty, fighting injustice.”
“By the saints, it would be a lark!” cried one in answer.
“Look upon it as a lark if it pleases you, yet you would be doing some good. Would the politicians dare stand against you, scions of the most powerful families? Band yourselves together and give yourselves a name. Make yourselves feared the length and breadth of the land!”
“It would be treason—”
“It is not treason to down a tyrant, caballeros! Is it that you are afraid?”
“By the saints—no!” they cried in chorus.
“Then make your stand!”
“You would lead us?”
“Si, señores!”
“But stay! Are you of good blood?”
“I am a caballero, of blood as good as any here!” Señor Zorro told them.
“Your name? Where resides your family?”
“Those things must remain secrets for the present. I have given you my word!”
“Your face—”
“Must remain masked for the time being, señores!”
They had lurched to their feet now, and were acclaiming him wildly.
“Stay!” one cried. “This is an imposition upon Don Alejandro. He may not be in sympathy, and we are planning and plotting in his house—”
“I am in sympathy, caballeros, and give you my support!” Don Alejandro said.
Their cheers filled the great room. None could stand against them if Don Alejandro Vega was with them. Not even the governor himself would dare oppose them.
“It is a bargain!” they cried. “We shall call our
selves the Avengers! We shall ride El Camino Real and prove terrors to those who rob honest men and mistreat natives! We shall drive the thieving politicians out!”
“And then you shall be caballeros in truth, knights protecting the weak,” Señor Zorro said. “Never shall you repent this decision, señores! I lead, and I give you loyalty and expect as much. Also, I expect obedience to orders!”
“What shall we do?” they cried.
“Let this remain a secret. In the morning, return to Reina de Los Angeles and say you did not find Señor Zorro—say rather that you did not catch him, which will be the truth. Be ready to band yourselves together and ride. I shall send word when the time arrives.”
“In what manner?”
“I know you all. I shall get word to one, and he can inform the others. It is agreed?”
“Agreed!” they shouted.
“Then I will leave you here and now. You are to remain in this room, and none is to try to follow me. It is a command. Buenas noches, caballeros!”
He bowed before them, swung the door open and darted through it, and slammed it shut behind him.
They could hear the clatter of a horse’s hooves on the driveway.
And then they raised their wine mugs and drank to their new league for the suppression of swindlers and thieves, and to Señor Zorro, the Curse of Capistrano, and to Don Alejandro Vega, somewhat sobered by the agreement they had made and what it meant. They sat down again, and began speaking of wrongs that should be righted, each of them knowing half a dozen.
And Don Alejandro Vega sat in one corner, by himself, a grief-stricken man because his only son was asleep in the house and had not red blood enough to take a part in such an undertaking, when by all rights, he should be one of the leaders.
As if to add to his misery, Don Diego at that moment came slowly into the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and looking as if he had been disturbed.
“It is impossible for a man to sleep in this house tonight,” he said. “Give me a mug of wine, and I shall take my place with you. Why was the cheering?”
“Señor Zorro has been here—” his father began. “The highwayman? Been here? By the saints! It is as much as a man can endure!”
“Sit down, my son!” Don Alejandro urged. “Certain things have come to pass. There will be a chance now for you to show what sort of blood flows in your veins!”
Don Alejandro’s manner was very determined.
CHAPTER 26
AN UNDERSTANDING
The remainder of the night was spent by the caballeros in loud boasts of what they intended doing, and in making plans to be submitted to Señor Zorro for his approval; and, though they appeared to look upon this thing as a lark and a means to adventure, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness in their manner. For they knew well the state of the times, and realized that things were not as they should be, and in reality, they were exponents of fairness to all; they had thought of these things often, but had made no move because they had not been banded together and had no leader, and each young caballero waited for another to start the thing. But now this Señor Zorro had struck at the psychological moment, and things could be done.
Don Diego was informed of the state of affairs, and his father informed him, likewise, that he was to play a part and prove himself a man. Don Diego fumed considerably and declared that such a thing would cause his death, yet he would do it for his father’s sake.
Early in the morning the caballeros ate a meal that Don Alejandro caused to be prepared, and then they started back to Reina de Los Angeles, Don Diego riding with them at his father’s order. Nothing was to be said about their plans. They were to get recruits from the remainder of the thirty who had set out in pursuit of Señor Zorro. Some would join them readily, they knew, while others were the governor’s men pure and simple, and would have to be kept in the dark concerning the thing contemplated.
They rode leisurely, for which Don Diego remarked that he was grateful. Bernardo was still following him on the mule, and was a little chagrined because Don Diego had not remained longer at his father’s house. Bernardo knew something momentous was being planned, but could not guess what, of course, and wished that he was like other men, and could hear and speak.
When they reached the plaza, they found that the other two parties already were there, saying that they had not come up with the highwayman. Some declared that they had seen him in the distance, and one that he had fired a pistol at him, at which the caballeros who had been at Don Alejandro’s put their tongues in their cheeks and looked at one another in a peculiar manner.
Don Diego left his companions and hurried to his house, where he donned fresh clothing and refreshed himself generally. He sent Bernardo about his business, which was to sit in the kitchen and await his master’s call. And then he ordered his carriage around.
That carriage was one of the most gorgeous along El Camino Real, and why Don Diego had purchased it had always been a mystery. There were some who said he did it to show his wealth, while others declared a manufacturer’s agent had worried him so much that Don Diego had given him the order to be rid of him.
Don Diego came from his house dressed in his best; but he did not get into the carriage. Again there was a tumult in the plaza, and into it rode Sergeant Pedro Gonzales and his troopers. The man Captain Ramón had sent after them had overtaken them easily, for they had been riding slowly and had not covered many miles.
“Ha, Don Diego, my friend!” Gonzales cried. “Still living in this turbulent world?”
“From necessity,” Don Diego replied. “Did you capture this Señor Zorro?”
“The pretty bird escaped us, caballero, It appears that he turned toward San Gabriel that night, while we went chasing him toward Pala. Ah, well, ’tis nothing to make a small mistake! Our revenge shall be the greater when we find him.”
“What do you now, my sergeant?”
“My men refresh themselves, and then we ride toward San Gabriel. It is said the highwayman is in that vicinity, though some thirty young men of blood failed to find him last night after he had caused the magistrado to be whipped. No doubt he hid himself in the brush and chuckled when the caballeros rode by.”
“May your horse have speed and your sword-arm strength!” Don Diego said, and got into his carriage.
Two magnificent horses were hitched to the carriage, and a native coachman in rich livery drove them. Don Diego stretched back on the cushions and half closed his eyes as the carriage started. The driver went across the plaza and turned into the highway, and started toward the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido.
Sitting on his veranda, Don Carlos saw the gorgeous carriage approaching, and growled low down in his throat, and then got up and hurried into the house, to face his wife and daughter.
“Señorita, Don Diego comes,” he said. “I have spoken words regarding the young man, and I trust that you have given heed to them as a dutiful daughter should.”
Then he turned and went out to the veranda again, and the señorita rushed into her room and threw herself upon a couch to weep. The saints knew she wished that she could feel some love for Don Diego and take him for a husband, for it would help her father’s fortunes, yet she felt that she could not.
Why did not the man act the caballero? Why did he not exhibit a certain measure of common sense? Why did he not show that he was a young man bursting with health, instead of acting like an aged don with one foot in the grave?
Don Diego got down from the carriage and waved to the driver to continue to the stable-yard. He greeted Don Carlos languidly, and Don Carlos was surprised to note that Don Diego had a guitar beneath one arm. He put the guitar down on the floor, removed his sombrero, and sighed.
“I have been out to see my father,” he said.
“Ha! Don Alejandro is well, I hope?”
“He is in excellent health, as usual. He has instructed me to persist in my suit for the Señorita Lolita’s hand. He says if I do not win me a wife within a certain t
ime, he will give his fortune to the Franciscans when he passes away.”
“Indeed?”
“He said it, and my father is not a man to waste his words. Don Carlos, I must win the señorita! I know of no other young woman who would be as acceptable to my father as a daughter-in-law.”
“A little wooing, Don Diego, I beg of you. Be not so matter-of-fact, I pray.”
“I have decided to woo as other men, though it no doubt will be much of a bore. How would you suggest that I start?”
“It is difficult to give advice in such a case,” Don Carlos replied, trying desperately to remember how he had done it when he had courted Doña Catalina. “A man really should be experienced, else be a man to whom such things come naturally.”
“I fear I am neither,” Don Diego said, sighing again and raising tired eyes to Don Carlos’s face.
“It might be an excellent thing to regard the señorita as if you adored her. Say nothing about marriage at first, but speak rather of love. Try to talk in low, rich tones, and say those meaningless nothings in which a young woman can find a world of meaning. ’Tis a gentle art—saying one thing and meaning another.”
“I fear that it is beyond me,” Don Diego said. “Yet I must try, of course. I may see the señorita now?”
Don Carlos went to the doorway and called his wife and daughter, and the former smiled upon Don Diego in encouragement, and the latter smiled also, yet with fear and trembling. For she had given her heart to the unknown Señor Zorro, and could love no other man, and could not wed where she did not love, not even to save her father from poverty.
Don Diego conducted the señorita to a bench at one end of the veranda and started to talk of things in general, plucking at the strings of his guitar as he did so, while Don Carlos and his wife removed themselves to the other end of the veranda and hoped that things would go well.
Señorita Lolita was glad that Don Diego did not speak of marriage as he had done before. Instead, he told of what had happened in the pueblo, of Fray Felipe’s whipping, and of how Señor Zorro had punished the magistrado, and fought a dozen men, and made his escape. Despite his air of languor, Don Diego spoke in an interesting manner, and the señorita found herself liking him more than before.
The Mark Of Zorro (Penguin Classics) Page 18