CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
THE EXILES RETURNED.
Of the _dramatis personae_ of our tale, already known to our reader,Carlos Santander, Florence Kearney, and Cris Rock were not the only oneswho had shifted residence from the City of New Orleans to that ofMexico. Within the months intervening two others had done the same--these Don Ignacio Valverde and his daughter. The banished exile had notonly returned to his native land, but his property had been restored tohim, and himself reinstated in the favour of the Dictator.
More still, he had now higher rank than ever before; since he had beenappointed a Minister of State.
For the first upward step on this progressive ladder of prosperity DonIgnacio owed all to Carlos Santander. The handsome _aide-de-camp_,having the ear of his chief, found little difficulty in getting the banremoved, with leave given the refugee--criminal only in a politicalsense--to come back to his country.
The motive will easily be guessed. Nothing of either friendship orhumanity actuated Santander. Alone the passion of love; which had to donot with Don Ignacio--but his daughter. In New Orleans he himself daredno longer live, and so could no more see Luisa Valverde there. Purelypersonal then; a selfish love, such as he could feel, was the motive forhis intercession with the political chief of Mexico to pardon thepolitical criminal. But if he had been the means of restoring DonIgnacio to his country, that was all. True, there was the restitutionof the exile's estates, but this followed as a consequence onreinstatement in his political rights. The after honours andemoluments--with the appointment to a seat in the Cabinet--came from theChief of the State, Santa Anna himself. And his motive for thusfavouring a man who had lately, and for long, been his political foe wasprecisely the same as that which actuated Carlos Santander. TheDictator of Mexico, as famed for his gallantries in love as hisgallantry in war--and indeed somewhat more--had looked upon LuisaValverde, and "saw that she was fair."
For Don Ignacio himself, as the recipient of these favours, much may besaid in extenuation. Banishment from one's native land, with loss ofproperty, and separation from friends as from best society; condemned tolive in another land, where all these advantages are unattainable,amidst a companionship uncongenial; add to this the necessity of work,whether mental or physical toil, to support life--the _res augustaedomi_; sum up all these, and you have the history of Don IgnacioValverde during his residence in New Orleans. He bore all patiently andbravely, as man could and should. For all he was willing--and it cannotbe wondered at that he was--when the day came, and a letter reached himbearing the State seal of the Mexican Republic--for its insignia wereyet unchanged--to say that he had received pardon, and could returnhome.
He knew the man who had procured it for him--Carlos Santander--and hadreason to suspect something of the motive. But the mouth of a gifthorse must not be too narrowly examined; and Santander, ever since thatnight when he behaved so rudely in Don Ignacio's house, had been charyin showing his face. In point of fact, he had made but one more visitto the Calle de Casa Calvo here, presenting himself several days afterthe duel with a patch of court plaister on his cheek, and his arm in asling. An invalid, interesting from the cause which made him aninvalid, he gave his own account of it, knowing there was but littledanger of its being contradicted; Duperon's temper, he understood, withthat of the French doctor, securing silence. The others were all G.T.T.(gone to Texas), the hack-drivers, as he had taken pains to assurehimself. No fear, therefore, of what he alleged getting denial or beingcalled in question.
It was to the effect that he had fought Florence Kearney, and given moreand worse wounds than he himself had received--enough of them, andsufficiently dangerous, to make it likely that his adversary would notlong survive.
He did not say this to Luisa Valverde--only to her father. When sheheard it second hand, it came nigh killing her. But then the informanthad gone away--perhaps luckily for himself--and could not further bequestioned. When met again in Mexico, months after, he told the sametale. He had no doubt, however, that his duelling adversary, soterribly gashed as to be in danger of dying, still lived. For anAmerican paper which gave an account of the battle of Mier, had spokenof Captain Kearney in eulogistic terms, while not giving his name in thedeath list; this Santander had read. The presumption, therefore, was ofKearney being among the survivors.
Thus stood things in the city of Mexico at the time the Mier prisonersentered it, as relates to the persons who have so far found place in ourstory--Carlos Santander, a colonel on the staff of the Dictator; DonIgnacio Valverde, a Minister of State; his daughter, a reigning belle ofsociety, with no aspirations therefor, but solely on account of herbeauty; Florence Kearney, late Captain of the Texan filibusters, withCris Rock, guide, scout, and general skirmisher of the same--these lastshut up in a loathsome prison, one linked leg to leg with a robber, theother sharing the chain of a murderer, alike crooked in soul as in body!
That for the Texan prisoners there was yet greater degradation instore--one of them, Kearney, was made aware the moment after thegaol-governor had so unceremoniously shut the door of their cell. Theteaching of Don Ignacio in New Orleans had not been thrown away uponhim; and this, with the practice since accruing through conversationwith the soldiers of their escort, had made him almost a master of theSpanish tongue.
Carlos Santander either did not think of this, or supposed the cloisterdoor too thick to permit of speech in the ordinary tone passing throughit. It did, notwithstanding; what he said outside to the governorreaching the Irishman's ear, and giving him a yet closer clue to thathitherto enigma--the why he and Cris Rock had been cast into a commongaol, among the veriest and vilest of malefactors.
The words of Santander were--
"As you see, Senor Don Pedro, the two Tejanos are old acquaintances ofmine. I met them not in Texas, but the United States--New Orleans--where we had certain relations; I need not particularise you. Only tosay that both the gentlemen left me very much in their debt; and I nowwish, above all things, to wipe out the score. I hope I may count uponyou to help me!"
There could be no mistaking what he meant. Anything but a repayal offriendly services, in the way of gratitude; instead, an appeal to thegaol-governor to assist him in some scheme of vengeance. So the latterunderstood it, as evinced by his rejoinder--
"Of course you can, Senor Colonel. Only say what you wish done. Yourcommands are sufficient authority for me."
"Well," said Santander, after an interval apparently spent inconsidering, "as a first step, I wish you to give these gentlemen anairing in the street; not alone the Tejanos, but all four."
"_Caspita_!" exclaimed the governor, with a look of feigned surprise."They ought to be thankful for that."
"They won't, however. Not likely; seeing their company, and theoccupation I want them put at."
"Which is?"
"A little job in the _zancas_!"
"In which street?"
"The Calle de Plateros. I observe that its stones are up."
"And when?"
"To-morrow--at midday. Have them there before noon, and let them bekept until night, or, at all events, till the procession has passed. Doyou quite understand me?"
"I think I do, Senor Colonel. About their _jewellery_--is that to beon?"
"Every link of it. I want them to be coupled, just as they are now--dwarf to giant, and the two grand gentlemen together."
"_Bueno_! It shall be done."
So closed the curious dialogue, or, if continued, what came after it didnot reach the ears of Florence Kearney; they who conversed havingsauntered off beyond his hearing. When he had translated what he heardto Cris Rock, the latter, like himself, was uncertain as to what itmeant. Not so either of their prison companions, who had likewiselistened to the conversation outside--both better comprehending it.
"_Bueno_, indeed!" cried the dwarf, echoing the gaol-governor'sexclamation. "It shall be done. Which means that before this timeto-morrow, we'll all four of us be up to our middle in mud.
Won't thatbe nice? Ha! ha! ha!"
And the imp laughed, as though, instead of something repulsive, heexpected a pleasure of the most enjoyable kind.