CHAPTER TWELVE.
"UN CLAVO SACA OTRO CLAVO."
Now that its streets were no longer obstructed by the fear of mobviolence, or midnight assassination, we had an opportunity of exploringthe "City of the Angels."
A fine old town we found it--with its grand cathedral, of which,according to monkish legend, _real_ angels were the architects; itsscores of _capillas_ and _parroquias_; its hundreds of massive stone andstuccoed houses; and its thousands of _adobe_ dwellings.
Besides those standing, we discovered whole streets that had fallen todecay; _barrios_ of uninhabited ruins, covered with a weed-tangle ofconvolvuli, cowage, and other creepers, growing in green luxuriousnessover the chaos of crumbling walls.
No other evidence is needed to prove that La Puebla, still the thirdcity of Anahuac, was once much grander than it is to-day.
I sought distraction in wandering through its streets; though there wasone into which I never went--the Calle del Obispo.
I shunned it with as much zeal as if there had been a plague in it;though I knew it contained _una cosa muy linda_--the fairest thing inthe city of Puebla.
And it was for this that I shunned it. Since I had no longer theslightest hope of possessing Mercedes Villa-Senor, I was acting inaccordance with the counsel of a friend, sager than myself, to whom Ihad communicated the story of my illusion. The course advised by himwas to forget her,--if I could.
"Don't go near again, nor see her on any account," were the words of mywise counsellor. "It's the only plan with a passion like yours--suddenly conceived, and, perhaps, founded on a mistaken fancy. She maynot be such perfection, after all. You've had but a poor chance ofjudging. Beauty in the balcony is sometimes wonderfully changed when itdescends into the street. No doubt this damsel at close quarters wouldturn out very different from what you describe her. It's onlyimagination."
"No imagination could create such a form--such a face--such--"
"Such fiddlesticks! Come, old fellow! Don't give way to thisconfounded romancing. I venture to say, that, if you could see her atsix feet distance, and under a good strong light, you'd be completelydisenchanted. The same tripe-coloured skin all these Spanish womenhave--that won't bear the sun upon it. I wouldn't give one of ourfair-haired Saxon girls for a whole shipload of them."
"Take my advice," continued my mentor, whose leaning was towards lighthair; "don't see her again. If she should prove plain, it would onlycause you a chagrin to discover it; and, if she really be the angel youthink she is, better you should never more meet her--except in heaven!From what you've told me, she's either engaged to this young fellow, orin the fair way of being made a fool of--a thing not so uncommon amongthe damsels of this good city. In either case there's no chance foryou. Give up fretting about her. It will be easy as falling off a log.Don't go into the street where she lives; though I don't supposethere'd be much danger of seeing her if you did--now that those rascallyRed Hats are about. In a month more we'll be on the march for the Hallsof the Moctezumas; and there you'll either get a bullet in your abdomen,or another shot through the heart, from a pair of eyes perhaps assparkling as those of the Villa-Senor."
The word "never" was upon my lips, and the thought was in my mind. Idid not utter it, knowing that my friend would only laugh at me.
"_Un clavo saca otro clavo_," (one nail drives out another), continuedmy Job's comforter; "A proverb of their own exactly applicable to yourcase. Ah! well do they understand the intricacies and tricks of love.These same Spaniards understood them three hundred years ago; while wesimple Saxons only knew them as instincts. No doubt Miss Mercedes hasoften heard the proverb--perhaps often practised it. So take my advice,old boy, and do you the same. Take for your motto, `_un clavo saca otroclavo_!'"
"All very well for you, who have no love to be expelled. That is athing not so easy, as you imagine."
"Bah! Easy enough. Look around you. I'll warrant you'll see plenty ofbeautiful women--according to your style--among these dark-complexionedsenoritas. Go out upon the streets--into the Alameda--to church--anywhere, excepting into the `street of the bishop.'"
I followed my friend's advice, and sought for the "un clavo" that shouldforce out the "otro clavo." I did not succeed in finding it. The firstnail held its place in my heart, despite every endeavour to draw it.
Still did I persevere in the resolution to see Mercedes no more--sternstruggle though it cost me.
It was not necessary I should shut my eyes, while passing through thestreets. There was little likelihood of my encountering her by chance.More than ever did the ladies keep to their seclusion. And no wonder,during the reign of the Red Hats.
The few who sallied forth in carriages, for a drive round the Alameda,were either the wives of foreign merchants, or belonging to one of thehalf dozen families, who, from interested motives, had become, for thetime, "Ayankeado."
With these exceptions, we saw only the little brown-skinned _leperas_,in their hideous slate-coloured rebosos; and now and then, when chanceconducted us to a fandango, a few flaunting specimens of the class"poblana," whose patriotism was not proof against our purses.
Among the _elite_ our epaulettes were not specially attractive; and ourcompany was altogether tabooed. The gown appeared to take the shine outof the sword. The soldier might rule in the streets; but within doorsthe sleek _curas_ had it all their own way.
It was these last to whom we were chiefly indebted for the taboo; and ofcourse we hated them accordingly.
For my part, I cared but little. If the _doncellas_ of Puebla had mademe ever so welcome, I could not have responded to their smiles. Thewound I had received from one of them was sufficient for the time; and,so long as it remained uncicatrised, I had no zest for a second _amour_.
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For weeks I adhered to the programme traced out by my friend; butwithout finding the relief he had so confidently prognosticated.
The society of woman was absolutely distasteful to me. I had becomealmost a _gynothrope_.
I sought distraction in the company of men; and, I regret to add, menwho played _monte_.
Play is but a sorry resource--though one of the commonest resorted to--for soothing the pangs of an unrequited passion. The coquette makesmany a recruit for the gaming table. Homburg has seen its scores offrequenters--sent there by her arts--hanging over its tables with brokenhearts--even when fortune seems smiling upon them!
I had no difficulty in discovering a place to practise thesoul-absorbing passion. Professional gamblers travelled along with us--as if part of the regular staff of the army. Every division had its"dealer" of "faro" or "_monte_;" and almost the first canvas spread inan encampment was that which covered the _tapis vert_ of a card table!
In the country it was a tent; in the city a grand saloon, withchandeliers and a set supper.
Our army gamblers usually superintended such places--having establishedtemporary partnerships with the indigenous vultures who owned them.
The game usually played was that universal in Mexico--_monte_. It wasthe most convenient--permitting players of all kinds and classes, andequally favourable to the novice as to the skilled gambler. There is noskill required--not much knowledge of any sort. A "banquier," a"croupier," a piece of green baize, and a pack of Spanish cards--_voilatout_!
There were two or three of these gambling saloons, or "_monte_ banks,"in La Puebla. More likely there were twenty; but two or three weregrand establishments--frequented by the Poblanos of the better class;where gold _doblones_ might be seen upon the green cloth as common assilver dollars. They were attachments to the grand Cafes, or Exchanges,that in Mexican cities take the place of our clubs--serving as places ofrendezvous for the _haciendados_, and higher class of _commerciantes_.
One was much frequented by the officers of our army; though notexclusively by them. The Mexican gentlemen did not deny us theircompany over the _monte_ table; and around it might be
seenrepresentatives of the Teutonic and Latinic races, in nearly equalproportions--with many a type between.
Though the natives were all in civilian costume, we knew that there wereamong them men who had once worn uniforms. In fact, some of them wereour prisoners _on parole_; whom we had encountered, and captured, at thesiege of Vera Cruz, or on the ensanguined summit of Cerro Gordo.
The poverty of these men was too conspicuous to escape observation.Their pay--scant at all times and often in arrears--was now stoppedaltogether; and how they contrived to live _on parole_, they and Godalone can tell.
It was painful to note their contrivances for keeping up the appearanceof gentility. A close inspection of their coats would show where theshoulder-straps and facings had been stripped off--to convert them intocivilian garments; and the unfaded stripe, down the seams of theirpantaloons, told where the gold lace had once gaily glittered.
They were usually provided with an ample cloth cloak; which in thestreets effectually concealed the transformation. But in the hotsaloons this could not well be worn; and a man standing behind, as theysat around the _monte_ table, might look upon a pair of shoulders--nowplain--that had been lately decorated with the epaulettes of a colonel,or even general!
Their ventures were usually of the most modest kind: beginning with a_peseta_, and graduating upwards, in proportion to the propitiousness ofFortune. When their luck was good, they gambled with _doblones_.
Otherwise, the _peseta_ ended their play for the night; but, instead ofretiring in despair, they would continue at the table; as though theytook a pleasure in contemplating the gains of the more fortunateplayers, and the losses of the banker!