CHAPTER XVII.
MOTHER AND SON.
So soon as Father Seraphin had installed Red Cedar and Ellen in thejacal, and assured himself that the new life he had procured them wassupportable, he thought about keeping his promise to Valentine's mother.
The worthy female, in spite of all her courage and resignation, felt herstrength daily growing less; she said nothing, she did not complain; butthe certainty of being so near her son and yet unable to see him, topress him in her arms after such a lengthened separation, such cruelalternations of cheated hopes and frightful deceptions plunged her intoa gloomy melancholy from which nothing could draw her; she felt herselfdying by inches, and had arrived at the terrible point of believing thatshe would never see her son again, for he was dead, and that themissionary, through fear of dealing her a terrible blow, deceived herwith a hope which could never be realised. Maternal love does notreason.
All that Father Seraphin had told her to cause her to be patient hadonly lulled her grief for a while, till it broke out again in redoubledimpatience and anxiety. All she had seen and heard since her landing inAmerica had only increased her anxiety, by showing her how life in thiscountry often only hangs by a thread. Hence, when the missionaryinformed her that in a week at the latest she should embrace her son,her joy and anxiety were so great that she almost fainted.
At first, she did not believe in such happiness. Through hoping againsthope so long, she had reached such a state of distrust that she supposedthat the good priest only told her this to make her patient for a whilelonger, and that he promised this meeting just as hopeless sick peopleare promised things which can never be realised.
In the meanwhile, Father Seraphin, though certain that Valentine was atthis moment on the prairie, did not know where to lay his hand on him.So soon as he reached the grotto he inhabited provisionally, he sent offthe Indians in four different directions to obtain information and bringhim positive news of the hunter. Valentine's mother was present when themissionary despatched these couriers; she heard the instructions he gavethem, saw them start, and then began counting the minutes till theirreturn, calculating in her mind the time they would employ in findingher son and in returning: the incidents that might delay them; in short,making those countless suppositions to which people give way who areimpatiently awaiting anything they eagerly desire.
Two days elapsed, and none of the couriers returned; the poor mother,seated on a rock, with her eyes fixed on the plain, awaited them,motionless and indefatigable. At the close of the third day, sheperceived, at a great distance, a black point, rapidly approaching thespot where she was; gradually, it became more distinct, and sherecognised a horseman galloping at full speed up the valley.
The mother's heart beat as if ready to burst. It was evidently one ofthe missionary's messengers; but what news did he bring? At length, theIndian dismounted, and began scaling the hill side; the old woman seemedto regain her youthful limbs, so rapidly did she go to meet him, andcleared in a few minutes the space that separated them. But when theywere face to face, another obstacle rose before her: the redskin did notunderstand a word of French; she, for her part, could not speak Indian.But mothers have a species of language, a freemasonry of the heart,which is understood in all countries; the Comanche warrior stoppedbefore her, folded his arms on his chest, and bowed with a gentle smile,merely uttering the word--
"Koutonepi!"
Valentine's mother knew that the Indians were accustomed to call her sonthus; and she suddenly felt reassured by the man's smile, and the way inwhich he had spoken her son's name. She took the warrior by the arm, anddragged him to the grotto, at the entrance of which Father Seraphin wasreading his breviary.
"Well!" he asked on seeing her, "What news?"
"This man could tell me nothing," she replied, "for I do not understandhis language; but something assures me he brings good news."
"With your leave, I will question him."
"Do so, for I am anxious to know what I have to expect."
The missionary turned to the Indian, who stood motionless a few yardsoff, and had listened to the few words spoken.
"The brow of my brother, the Spider, is damp," he said; "let him take aplace by my side and rest: he has had a long journey."
The Indian smiled gravely, and bowed respectfully to the missionary.
"The Spider is a chief in his tribe," he said in his guttural and yetmelodious voice; "he can bound like the jaguar, and crawl like theserpent: nothing fatigues him."
"I know that my brother is a great warrior," the missionary answered:"his exploits are numerous, and the Apaches fly on seeing him. Has mybrother met the young men of his tribe?"
"Spider has met them: they are hunting the buffalo on the Gila."
"Was their great chief Unicorn with them?"
"Unicorn was with his warriors."
"Good! My brother has the eye of a tiger-cat: nothing escapes him. Didhe meet the great paleface hunter?"
"Spider smoked the calumet with Koutonepi and several warriors, friendsof the pale hunter, assembled round his fire."
"Did my brother speak with Koutonepi?" the priest asked.
"Yes, Koutonepi is glad at the return of the father of prayer, whom hedid not hope to see again. When the walkon has sung for the second time,Koutonepi will be near my father with his comrades."
"My brother is a wise and skillful warrior: I thank him for the way inwhich he has carried out the mission with which he was entrusted, amission which no other warrior would have performed with so muchprudence and tact."
At this well-dressed compliment, a smile of joy and pride played roundthe Indian's lips, who withdrew after respectfully kissing themissionary's hand. Father Seraphin then turned to Madame Guillois, whoanxiously awaited the result of this conversation, trying to read in thepriest's looks what she had to hope or fear. He took her hand, pressedit gently, and said to her with that sympathetic accent which hepossessed in the highest degree--
"Your son is coming, you will soon see him: he will be here this night,within two hours at the most."
"Oh!" she said with an accent impossible to render; "God! Be blessed!"
And, kneeling on the ground, she burst into tears. The missionarywatched her anxiously, ready to help her if her extreme emotion causedher to break down. After a few moments she rose smiling through hertears, and took her place again by the priest's side.
"Oh!" she said eagerly, "he is my son, the only being I ever loved; thechild I nursed at my breast, and I am going to see him again! Alas! Wehave been separated for ten years--for ten years the mark of my kisseshas been effaced from his forehead. You cannot understand what I feel,father--it cannot be explained; to a mother her child is everything."
"Do not let your emotion overpower you."
"Then, he is coming?" she repeated eagerly.
"In two hours at the most."
"What a long time two hours are!" she said with a sigh.
"Oh! all human creatures are like that," the missionary exclaimed. "You,who waited so many years without complaining, now find two hours toolong."
"But I am waiting for my son, my beloved child; I cannot see him soonenough."
"Come, calm yourself, you are quite in a fever."
"Oh! fear nothing, father, joy never kills. The sight of my son willrestore my health, I feel sure."
"Poor mother!" the priest could not refrain from saying.
"Am I not?" she said. "Oh, it is a terrible thing, if you but knew it,to live in these continued horrors, to have only a son who is your joy,your delight, and not to know where he is, or what he is doing, whetherhe is dead or alive. The most cruel torture for a mother is thiscontinual uncertainty of good and evil, of hope and disappointment. Youdo not understand this, you can never understand it, you men; it is asense wanting in you, and which we mothers alone possess--love of ourchildren."
There was a short silence, then she went on:
"Good heaven! How slowly time passes. Will not the sun soon set? Whichw
ay do you think my son will come, father? I should like to see himarrive, though I have not seen him for a long time. I feel certain thatI shall recognise him at once; a mother is not mistaken, look you, forshe does not see her child with her eyes, but feels him in her eyes."
The missionary led her to the entrance of the cave, made her sit down,placed himself by her side, and said, as he stretched out his arm in asouthwestern direction:
"Look over there, he must come that way."
"Thanks!" she said, eagerly. "Oh, you are as kind as you are virtuous.You are good as a saint, father. God will reward you, but I can onlyoffer you my thanks."
The missionary smiled softly.
"I am happy," he said, simply.
They looked out, the sun was rapidly sinking in the horizon; gloomgradually covered the ground; objects were confused, and it wasimpossible to distinguish anything, even at a short distance.
"Let us go in," Father Seraphin said; "the night chill might strikeyou."
"Nonsense," she said, "I feel nothing."
"Besides," he went on, "the gloom is so dense that you cannot see him."
"That is true," she said, fervently, "but I shall hear him."
There was no reply possible to this. Father Seraphin took his seat againby her side.
"Forgive me, father," she said, "but joy renders me mad."
"You have suffered enough, poor mother," he answered, kindly, "to havethe right of enjoying unmingled happiness this day. Do what you please,then, and have no fear of causing me pain."
About an hour elapsed ere another word was uttered by them: they werelistening; the night was becoming more gloomy, the desert sounds moreimposing, the evening breeze had risen, and groaned hoarsely through the_quebradas_, with a melancholy and prolonged sound. Suddenly MadameGuillois sprang up with flashing eye, and seized the missionary's hand.
"Here he is," she said, hoarsely.
Father Seraphin raised his head.
"I hear nothing," he replied.
"Ah!" the mother said, with an accent that came from her heart, "I amnot mistaken--it is he! Listen, listen again."
Father Seraphin listened with greater attention, and, in fact, ascarcely perceptible sound could be heard on the prairie, resembling theprolonging roaring of distant thunder. The noise became graduallylouder, and it was presently easy to distinguish the gallop of severalhorses coming up at full speed.
"Well," she exclaimed, "was it fancy? Oh! A mother's heart is nevermistaken."
"You are right, madam; in a few minutes he will be by your side."
"Yes," she muttered, in a panting voice.
That was all she could say--joy was stifling her.
"In Heaven's name," the missionary exclaimed, in alarm, "take care! Thisemotion is too great for you; you are killing yourself."
She shook her head with a careless gesture, full of inexpressiblehappiness.
"What matter?" she said; "I am happy--oh, very happy at this moment."
The horsemen entered the defile, and the gallop of their horses grewvery loud.
"Dismount, gentlemen," a powerful voice shouted, "we have arrived."
"'Tis he! 'Tis he!" she said, with a movement as if going to rushforward; "it was he who spoke--I recognised his voice."
The missionary held her in his arms.
"What are you about?" he exclaimed, "you will kill yourself!"
"Pardon me, father, pardon me! But on hearing him speak, I know not whatemotion I felt; I was no longer mistress of myself, but rushed forward."
"A little patience, he is coming up; in five minutes he will be in yourarms."
She started back hurriedly.
"No," she said, "not so, not so, the recognition would be too hurried;let me enjoy my happiness without losing a morsel. I wish him to find meout as I did him."
And she hurriedly dragged Father Seraphin into the grotto.
"It is Heaven that inspires you," he said; "yes, this recognition wouldbe too abrupt--it would kill you both."
"I was right, father, was I not? Oh, you will see--you will see. Hide meat some spot where I can see and hear everything unnoticed; make haste,here he is."
The cavern, as we have said, was divided into a number of cells, eachcommunicating with the other; Father Seraphin concealed Madame Guilloisin one of these, whose walls were formed of stalactites, that hadassumed the strangest forms. After hobbling their horse, the huntersclimbed the mountain. While coming up, they could be heard talkingtogether; the sound of their voices distinctly reached the inhabitantsof the grotto, who listened greedily to the words they uttered.
"That poor Father Seraphin," Valentine said; "I do not know if you arelike myself, caballeros, but I am delighted at seeing him again. Ifeared lest he had left us forever."
"It is a great consolation for me in my grief," said Don Miguel, "toknow him so near us; that man is a true apostle."
"What is the matter, Valentine?" General Ibanez suddenly asked; "Why doyou stop?"
"I do not know," the latter replied, in a hesitating voice, "somethingis taking place in me which I cannot explain. When Spider told me todayof the father's arrival, I felt a strange contraction of the heart; nowit is affecting me again, though I cannot say for what reason."
"My friend, it is the joy you feel at seeing Father Seraphin again, thatis all."
The hunter shook his head.
"No," he said, "it is not that, but something else; what I feel is notnatural: my chest is oppressed, I am choking, what can be happening?"
His friends anxiously collected round him.
"Let me go on," he said, resolutely; "if I have bad news to hear, it isbetter to do so at once."
And, in spite of the exhortations of his friends, who were alarmed atseeing him in this state, he began running up the mountain side. He soonreached the platform, when he stopped to take breath.
"Come on!" he said.
He boldly entered the cavern, followed by his friends, but at the momenthe went in, he heard his name called; at the sound of this voice thehunter started; he turned pale and trembled, and a cold perspirationcovered his face.
"Oh," he murmured, "who calls me thus?"
"Valentine! Valentine!" the soft voice repeated.
The hunter hesitated and bent his body forward, his face assumed anindescribable look of joy and alarm.
"Again! Again!" he said, in an indistinct voice, as he laid his hand onhis heart to check its beating.
"Valentine!" the voice repeated. This time Valentine bounded forwardlike a lion.
"My mother!" he cried; "My mother, here I am!"
"Ah, I felt certain he would recognise me," she exclaimed, as she rushedinto his arms.
The hunter pressed her to his bosom with a sort of frenzy; the poorwoman lavished her caresses on him, crying and half mad with joy andterror at seeing him in this state. She repeated the experiment she hadmade. He kissed her face, with her white locks, unable to utter a word.At length a hoarse groan burst from his chest, he breathed faintly, andhe melted into tears, saying, in an accent of indescribable tenderness--
"My mother! Oh, my mother!"
These were the only words he could find. Valentine laughed and wept atonce; as he sat on a rock, holding his mother on his knees, he embracedher with delirious joy, and was never wearied of kissing her white hair,her pale cheeks, and her eyes, which had shed so many tears.
The spectators of the scene, affected by this true and simple affection,wept silently round the mother and son. Curumilla, crouched in a cornerof the cave, was looking fixedly at the hunter, while two tears slowlyglided down his bronzed cheeks.
When the first emotion was slightly calmed, Father Seraphin, who hadtill then kept aloof, not to trouble the glorious outpourings of thisinterview, stepped forward, and said in a gently imperious voice, as heheld up the simple copper crucifix in his right hand:
"My children, let us return thanks to the Saviour for His infinitegoodness."
The backwoodsmen knelt down and prayed.
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