CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
PADRE CORNAGA.
Astonishment still held me speechless, as it did my companion--motionless, too, as the maguey leaves, radiating around us.
Had I known the real signification of what had just transpired, I mighthave acted with more promptitude, and ten times the energy.
As it was, I felt like one slowly recovering from a state of torpidity--from an ill-digested dream!
"What does it all mean?" I inquired of the stage-driver, withoutstirring from my place.
"Darn'd if I know, cap'n; 'cept it air one band o' robbers that'sattackted the t'other, and stripped 'em of their spoils. The conq'rors'pear to be clean gone away, an' hev took the weemen too! They'vesloped off on t'other side o' the shanty. I kin hear 'em yet, makingtheir way up the mountain! Thar's a path there; tho' it ain't so easyto climb. I reck'n they've gone up it, toatin up the gurls along wi''em. The reezun _they_ ain't still screechin' is, they've got 'emeyther gagged, or _tapado_."
"_Tapado_?"
"Yes; muffled up--thar faces covered wi' something--to hinder them fromseeing their way, or singin' out. They only do it, when the weemen showrefactory."
What mattered it to me? What mattered, whether Dolores Villa-Senor wasthe wife of one robber, or the mistress of another? Why should I carenow? She could never be mine!
I stepped out from among the leaves--leisurely, as one who has no motivefor making haste. There was a cold pain at my heart; a callousindifference to the fate of her who had caused it. She was welcome togo higher--to the summit of the mountain she had selected as the sceneof her nuptials.
It was Ixticihuatl on whose slope we stood. The "White Sister" could beseen through the clear starlight above, reposing in spotless vestments.How different from the robe of Dolores!
"Let her go!" was my unchivalric reflection. "She has made her own bed:let her lie upon it!"
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It was not for the purpose of pursuing--at all events not with anythought of rescuing her--that I placed the call to my lips, and soundedthe signal for my men.
In less than five minutes the "Rifles" were around me--their greenjackets distinguishable under the brilliant beams of the moon--that onthe instant sailed suddenly into sight.
On hearing the shots, and other sounds of strife, they had commencedmoving up the mountain-path. Hence the promptness of their appearance.
Selecting half a dozen of them, I stepped straight into the doorway ofthe house. We entered without opposition--groping our way through thesaguan.
Inside all was darkness; though we could tell that the place was stilltenanted,--by the groans that proceeded from the adjacent chamber.
A light was struck; and we commenced exploring the apartments. In thedining-room there was no one--a banquet spread--but without guest topartake of it!
We turned into the _sala grande_--from whence proceeded the lugubrioussounds.
The scene--so late one of merriment--was now a spectacle of death!
Two men were lying along the floor. One might have been supposedasleep: as he lay quite silent. But a red rivulet, trickling from itssource underneath him, and terminating on the tiles in a pool of blood--told that it was the silence of death.
The other, also surrounded by seams of smoking gore, still lived andmoved. It was he who was making moan.
On stooping over him, I recognised the features of Francisco Moreno.They were still handsome, though terribly distorted by his struggle, asI supposed, with death.
It was no use asking an explanation from him. I saw that he did notknow me!
There was a thought in my mind at the moment--an unsanctified thought.A rival had been removed from my path. Francisco Moreno was no longerin my way!
But it could not matter now. The relief had come too late!
"Hilloa, what's this?" exclaimed one of the men, poking his rifle underthe _banquette_, and pressing it against what appeared a large bundledone up in Kentucky jeans. "By the Almighty, it's a monk!"
"You're right, caballero," answered a voice, from under the envelope ofgrey-blue serge, which, on closer inspection, proved to be the gown of aFranciscan friar.
"A monk I am--at your service, caballeros. _Sangre de Crista_! It'sthe merest, accident that I'm a living one. O, senores; I perceive thatyou are _hombres buenos_; and that the _ladrones_ have retreated at yourapproach. Say that they are gone; and that I need have no furtherfear?"
"Two on 'em haint gone fur," replied the stage-driver; "thar they lie--right afore yur eyes, Padre Cornaga."
"Ah! you know me, good sir? _Santissima_, it's the driver of the_diligencia_--the worthy Don Samuel Bruno! What! _these_ robbers? _PorDios_, no! They are gentlemen!"
"A queery kind o' gentlemen, I reckin'."
"'Tis true as I say it, Senor Don Samuel. _Caballeros--hombreshonestos_--both these unfortunate young men. _Ay de mi_!" added themonk, stooping down over one of the prostrate forms. "This is the sonof our _Juez de Letras_ (judge of the Criminal court). Many a robberhave I shrived after sentence passed by his honoured father. And this,"he continued, turning to Francisco, "Ah! senores, this is the bridegroomhimself--_asesinado_--in the presence of his bride, and under the sacredshadow of the altar, that should have protected him from anything!_Pobre Dolores! Pobre Dolores_!"
"It is the name of a lady. How came _she_ to be here? You say thesemen are not robbers--what are they?"
"Oh, senor capitan!--for I perceive you are the chief--it is a strangestory. Shall I tell it to you?"
"As you please about that. I came here to capture a gang of _ladrones_;or kill them, if need be. I only want to know which are the thieves,and which the honest men. There does not appear to be any greatdifference between them?"
"O caballero! why should you say that? Surely you do not mistake thehonourable capitan Moreno for a _salteador_? A worthy young gentlemanwho but ten minutes ago was standing up to be wedded to one of thefairest and most Christian ladies in our good city of Puebla--thedaughter of Don Eusebio--"
"Villa-Senor. I know all that. But how came it to pass? Why was theceremony here? Why not in her father's house?"
"You astonish me, senor! What can you know?"
"Never mind what. Tell me, I entreat--I command you--how it is thatthis marriage--interrupted as I perceive it has been--was taking placehere--among the mountains?"
"Senor capitan; you are welcome to know all. Alas! there is now noreason for keeping the scheme concealed."
"A scheme! There was a scheme?"
"Si, senor! It was contrived between the young people themselves. DonEusebio was against their being united--so much, that to prevent it hewas taking his daughter to a convent--that of La Concepcion, in thecapital; which I may be permitted to say to you, a stranger, is the mostfashionable of our nunneries. Pobre Dolores! Can you blame her forusing means to escape from such a fate? Even I, a _religio_, do notscruple to say it was wrong. To think of immuring such a fair creaturewithin the dull walls of a cloister!"
"I acknowledge to having been in the confidence of the _amantes_; andeven assisted them to contrive their little scheme; which, alas! hasproved so unsuccessful. Ah, worse than that: since it has brought ruinto all engaged in it!"
"What was it?" I asked, impatiently, having but slight sympathy withthe regrets of the priest.
"Well, senor, it was this. The gallant youth whom you see there--alas,I fear the victim of his gallantry--with half a dozen of his friends,disguised as _salteadores_, were to capture the _diligencia_, and gainpossession of the Senorita Dolores,--as also of her sister whoaccompanied her; another lady as fair--some say fairer--than she; and,with all respect to the gentle Dolores, I am myself of this opinion.
"Need I say that the plan so far was eminently successful?
"_Pues, senor_! It had been arranged that I was to be one of thetravelling party; which, from my office of _sacristan_ to the family oft
he Senor Don Eusebio, was easily brought about. I too was to be takenprisoner by the sham bandits!
"_Pues senor_! There was to be a marriage--without Don Eusebio'sconsent. It was in the act of being solemnised. _Jesu Cristo_! what atermination! There lies the bridegroom. Where is the bride? Where hersister Mercedes? Ah, senor! you should see Mercedes--_una cosa muylinda_--the fairest thing in all the city of Puebla!"
"Excepting Dolores."
The words went forth with a purely mechanical effort. I was in no moodfor playing champion to charms never to be enjoyed by me.
"The robbery of the _diligencia_ was a ruse, then?"
"_Si, senor. Una engana_. A little stratagem of Don Francisco and hisfriends."
"I thort thar was somethin' queery beout it," remarked the stage-driver.
"But what meant the ransom--the ten thousand dollars?" I asked.
"Ay Dios, senor capitan, that was part of the plot. Don Eusebio is _muyrico_--very rich indeed. For all that he is perhaps a littleparsimonious. The young people knew that they would need money tocommence housekeeping; and as it might be a long time, before the worthyparent would relent and grant them forgiveness, they thought it might beas well to _borrow_ it from him in that way. _Santissima_! it has beena mistake--all, all! Oh, senores! _you_ will not betray me? If itbecomes known that I was a willing actor in this sad affair, I would notonly lose the lucrative situation I hold in Don Eusebio's family, butperhaps also my gown. _Dios de mi alma_!"
"My good padre," I answered somewhat unmannerly, "we have no time totrouble ourselves about your future. We wish you to give some furtherexplanation of the present. The marriage ceremony you speak of wasinterrupted. We know that. But why, and by whom?"
"Robbers, senor--real robbers! _Salteadores del camino grande_!"
This was an answer to both my questions. The monk on perceiving it,offered no further explanation.
"Their sole motive was plunder, I suppose?"
"Ah, senor, I wish I could think so!"
"You believe they had some other object?"
"Alas! yes. Look there, caballero!"
The priest pointed to the dead body of the young man, whom he hadrepresented as the son of the _Juez de Letras_. He was lying with faceupwards. I could see upon his breast the sparkle of gold--theguard-chain of a watch--and inside the vest a shape showing that thewatch was itself there!
"This is strange," I said. "Are you sure they were regular robbers whodid this?"
"Sure--sure!" replied the padre, with a melancholy shake of the head."Too sure, caballero. 'Tis true they wore masks, and I could not seetheir faces. But I heard a name that told me all. I heard it as theypassed out, carrying the _muchachas_ along with them."
"What name?" I asked, with a painful presentiment.
"Ah, senor capitan; one too well known upon these roads."
"_Carrasco_?" I half shouted, without waiting for the padre topronounce it.
"Ay Dios, senor! You know everything! That is the name. I heard itfrom one of his followers, who spoke to him as they hurried off in thedarkness. The robber-chief who has done this foul deed is the notedcaptain _Carrasco! Pobres ninas_!"