CHAPTER XI.
THE VENTA DEL POTRERO.
Using now our privilege as romancer, we will transfer the scene of ournarrative to Texas, and resume our story about sixteen years after theevents recorded in the prologue.
Dawn was beginning to tinge the clouds with its opaline rays, the starswent out one after the other in the gloomy depths of the sky, and on theextreme blue line of the horizon a bright red reflection, precursor ofsunrise, showed that day would ere long appear. Thousands of invisiblebirds, hidden beneath the foliage, suddenly woke up, and melodiouslybegan their morning concert, while the yells of the wild beasts quittingthe watering places, and returning slowly to their unexplored lairs,became gradually more dull and indistinct.
At this moment the breeze rose, burst into the dense cloud of steamwhich at sunrise exhales from the earth in these intertropical regions,whirled it round for an instant, then rent it asunder, and scattered itin space; thus displaying, without any apparent transition, the mostdelicious landscape the dreaming mind of poet or painter could imagine.
It is, before all, in America that Providence appears to have taken apleasure in lavishing the most striking landscape effects, and ininfinitely varying the contrasts and harmonies of that puissant naturewhich can only be found there.
Through the centre of an immense plain, circled on all sides by the tallfoliage of a virgin forest, there ran in capricious windings a sandyroad, whose golden colour contrasted harmoniously with the deep green ofthe grass and the silvery whiteness of a narrow stream which the firstbeams of the sun caused to sparkle like a casket of jewels. Not far fromthe stream, and at about the middle of the plain, rose a white housewith a verandah running round it, and a roof of red tiles. This house,prettily covered with creepers that almost hid its walls, was a _Venta_,or hostelry, built on the top of a small mount. It was reached by animperceptible ascent, and, owing to its position, commanded the immenseand grand landscape.
Before the door of the venta several dragoons, picturesquely grouped,and about twenty in number, were saddling their horses while thearrieros were actively engaged in loading seven or eight mules.
Along the road and some paces from the venta, several horsemen,resembling black dots, could be seen just entering the forest to whichwe alluded, a forest which rose gradually, and was commanded by a girdleof lofty mountains, whose rugged and bare crests were almost confoundedwith the azure of the sky.
The door of the venta opened, and a young officer came out singing,accompanied by a stout and jolly-looking monk; after them, a charmingmaiden of eighteen or nineteen, fair-haired and fragile, with blue eyesand golden hair, appeared on the threshold.
"Come, come," the Captain said, for the young officer wore the marks ofthat grade, "we have lost too much time already, so to horse."
"Hum!" the monk growled, "we have had hardly time to breakfast; why thedeuce are you in such a hurry, Captain?"
"Holy man," the officer went on with a laugh, "if you prefer remaining,you are at liberty to do so."
"No, no, I will go with you," the monk exclaimed, with a look of terror;"_caspita!_ I want to take advantage of your escort."
"Then make haste, for I shall give orders to start within five minutes."
The officer, after looking round the plain, gave his _asistente_ ordersto bring up his horse, and mounted with that grace peculiar to Mexicanriders. The monk stifled a sigh of regret, probably thinking of thesavoury hospitality he was leaving, to run the risk of a long journey,and, aided by the arrieros, he contrived to lift himself on to a mule,whose loins gave way beneath the enormous load.
"Ouf!" he muttered, "Here I am."
"To horse!" the officer commanded.
The dragoons obeyed at once, and for a few seconds the clash of steelcould be heard.
The maiden, to whom we have alluded, had hitherto stood silent andmotionless in the doorway, apparently suffering from some secretagitation, and looking now and then anxiously at two or threeCampesinos, who, leaning negligently against the wall of the venta,listlessly followed the movements of the party; but at the moment whenthe Captain was about to give the order to start, she resolutely went upto him and offered him a mechero.
"Your cigarette is not lighted, sir," she said, in a soft and melodiousvoice.
"On my honour, 'tis true," he replied, and bending gallantly down toher, he returned her the mechero, saying, "thanks, my pretty child."
The girl profited by this movement, which brought his face close tohers, to whisper hurriedly--
"Take care!"
"What?" he said, as he looked fixedly at her. Without replying, she laidher finger on her rosy lips, and turning quickly away, ran back into theventa.
The Captain drew himself up, frowned savagely, and bent a threateningglance on the two or three fellows leaning against the wall, but he soonshook his head.
"Bah!" he muttered, disdainfully, "they would not dare."
He then drew his sabre, whose blade glistened dazzlingly in thesunbeams, and placed himself at the head of the troop.
"Forward!" he shouted.
They started at once.
The mules followed the bell of the Nena, and the dragoons collectedround the _recua_ enclosed it in their midst.
For a few minutes the Campesinos, who had been watching the departure ofthe troop, looked after it along the winding road, then re-entered theventa one by one.
The girl was seated alone on an _equipal_, apparently busily engaged insewing; still, through the almost imperceptible tremor that agitated herbody, the flush on her brow, and the timid look she shot through herlong eyelashes on the entrance of the Campesinos, it was easy to readthat the calmness she affected was far from her heart, and that, on thecontrary, a secret fear tormented her.
These Campesinos were three in number; they were men in the full vigourof life, with harshly marked features, firm glances, and brusque andbrutal manners. They wore the Mexican border costume, and were wellarmed.
They sat down on a bench placed before a clumsily planed table, and oneof them striking it sharply with his fist, turned to the girl and saidroughly--
"Drink here."
She started, and raised her head quickly.
"What do you wish for, Caballeros?" she said.
"Mezcal."
She rose and hastened to serve them; the man who had spoken caught herby the dress at the moment she passed.
"An instant, Carmela," he said.
"Let go my dress, Ruperto," she replied, with a slight pout ofill-humour, "you will tear it for me."
"Nonsense!" he replied, with a coarse laugh, "you must fancy me veryawkward."
"No, but your manner does not please me."
"Oh! oh! you are not always so wild, my charming bird."
"What do you mean?" she continued, with a blush.
"No matter, I understand it; but that is not the question just atpresent."
"What is it, then?" she asked with feigned surprise; "Have I not broughtyou the mezcal you ordered?"
"Yes, yes; but I have something to say to you."
"Well, say it quickly, and let me go."
"You are in a great hurry to escape from me; are you afraid lest yourlover may surprise you in conversation with me?"
Ruperto's comrades began laughing, and the maiden stood quite abashed.
"I have no lover, Ruperto, and you know it very well," she answered withtears in her eyes; "it is cruel of you to insult a defenceless girl."
"Nonsense! I am not insulting you, Carmela; what harm is there in apretty girl like you having a lover, if not two?"
"Let me go," she cried, as she made an angry movement to free herself.
"Not before you have answered my question."
"Ask it then, and let us have an end of this."
"Well, my wild little maid, be good enough to repeat to me what youwhispered just now to that springald of a captain."
"I?" she replied in embarrassment; "what do you suppose I said to him?"
"That i
s the very point. Nina, I do not suppose what you said to him, Imerely wish you to tell me what it was."
"Leave me alone, Ruperto, you only take a delight in tormenting me."
The Mexican looked at her searchingly.
"Do not turn the conversation, my beauty," he said drily, "for thequestion I ask you is serious."
"That is possible; but I have no answer to give you."
"Because you know you have done wrong."
"I do not understand you."
"Of course not! Well, I will explain myself; at the moment the officerwas about to start, you said to him, 'Take care,' Would you venture todeny it?"
The girl turned pale.
"Since you heard me," she said, attempting to jest, "why do you ask me?"
The Campesinos had frowned on hearing Ruperto's accusation; the positionwas growing serious.
"Oh, oh!" one of them said, as he looked up; "Did she really say that?"
"Apparently, since I heard it," Ruperto retorted brutally.
The girl took a timid glance around, as if imploring an absentprotector.
"He is not there," Ruperto remarked cruelly, "so it is of no use lookingfor him."
"Who?" she asked, hesitating between the shame of the supposition andthe terror of her dangerous position.
"He," he answered with a grin. "Listen, Carmela; several times alreadyyou have learned more of our business than we liked; I repeat to youthe remark you made a minute ago to the Captain, and try to profit byit; take care."
"Yes," the second speaker said brutally; "for we might forget that youare only a child, and make you pay dearly for your treachery."
"Nonsense," the third said, who had hitherto contented himself withdrinking, and taking no part in the conversation; "the law must be equalfor all; if Carmela has betrayed us, she must be punished."
"Well said, Bernardo," Ruperto exclaimed, as he smote the table; "thereare just enough of us to pronounce the sentence."
"Good Heavens!" she screamed, as she freed herself by a sudden effortfrom the grasp of the arm which had hitherto held her; "Let me go, letme go!"
"Stay!" Ruperto shouted as he rose; "If you do not, some misfortune willhappen."
The three men rushed on the maiden, and the latter, half wild withterror, sought in vain the door of the venta by which to escape.
But, at the moment when the three men laid their rough and horny handson her white and delicate shoulders, the door, whose hasp she had beenunable to lift in her terror, was thrown wide open, and a man appearedon the threshold.
"What is the matter here?" he asked in a harsh voice, as he crossed hishands on his chest; and he stood motionless, looking round at thecompany.
There was such menace in the voice of the new-comer, such a flash shotfrom his eyes, that the three terrified men fell back mechanicallyagainst the opposing wall, muttering--"The Jaguar! The Jaguar!"
"Save me! Save me!" the maiden shrieked, as she rushed wildly towardhim.
"Yes," he said in a deep voice; "yes, I will save you, Carmela; woe tothe man who causes a hair of your head to fall."
And softly raising her in his powerful arms, he laid her gently on abutacca, where she reclined in a half-fainting condition.
The man who appeared so suddenly was still very young; his beardlessface would have seemed that of a child, if his regular features, withtheir almost feminine beauty, had not been relieved by two large blackeyes, which possessed a brilliancy and magnetic power that few men feltthemselves capable of enduring.
He was tall, but graceful and elegant, and his chest was wide; his longhair, black as the raven's wing, fell in clusters beneath his vicunahat, which was ornamented with a deep gold toquilla.
He wore the brilliant and luxurious Mexican costume; his calzoneras ofviolet velvet, open above the knee, and decorated with a profusion ofcarved gold buttons, displayed his shapely leg, elegantly imprisoned inplaid silk stockings; his manga, thrown over, his shoulder, was borderedwith a wide gold galoon, a girdle of white China crape confined hiships, and bore a pair of pistols and a sheathless machete, with a broadand glittering blade, passed through a ring of bronzed steel: anAmerican rifle, studded with silver ornaments, was slung over hisshoulder.
There was in the person of this man, still so young, an attraction sopowerful, a dominating fire so strange, that it was impossible to seehim without loving or hating him--so profound was the impression heunconsciously produced on all those, without exception, with whomchance brought him into relation.
No one knew who he was, or whence he came; his very name was unknown;and people had consequently been compelled to give him a sobriquet, withwhich, however, he did not appear at all offended.
As for his character, the following scenes will make it sufficientlywell known for us to dispense for the present with entering into anylengthened details.