CHAPTER VI.
THE LINDA.[1]
The night was gloomy; no star glittered in the heavens; the moon,concealed by clouds, only spread a wan, pale light, which, when itdisappeared, rendered the darkness the denser. The streets weredeserted; but at regular intervals the furtive steps of the serenos, whoalone watched at this hour, were audible.
The two men whom we have seen upon the Plaza Mayor, bearing away thewounded man, walked for a long time, loaded with their strange burthen,stopping at the least noise, and concealing themselves in the depths ofa doorway, or in the angle of a street, to allow the serenos to pass, asthey would be sure to require a reason for their being in the streetsat that unusual hour. Since the discovery of the conspiracy, orders hadbeen given that at eleven o'clock every citizen should be within doors.After many turnings and windings, the strangers stopped in the street ElMercado, one of the most secluded and narrow in Santiago. They appearedto be expected, for a door was opened at the sound of their steps, anda woman, dressed in white, and holding a candle, the light of whichshe shaded with her left hand, appeared on the threshold. The two menstopped, and one of them, taking a steel from his pocket, struck theflint so as to produce as few sparks as possible. At this signal--for itevidently was one--the woman extinguished the light, saying with a loudvoice, but as if speaking to herself--
"Dios proteja a Chile (May God protect Chili)!"
"Dios lo ha protegido (God has protected it)," the man with the flintand steel replied, as he replaced his utensils in his pocket.
The woman uttered a cry of joy, which her prudence suddenly repressed.
"Come in, come in," she said in a low voice; and in an instant the twomen were beside her.
"Is he alive?" she asked, with intense anxiety.
"He is alive," one of the strangers laconically replied.
"In Heaven's name, come in!" she exclaimed.
The bearers, guided by the woman, who had relighted her candle,disappeared in the house, the door of which was immediately and softlyclosed after them. All the houses of Santiago are alike, with respectto their internal arrangements. To describe one is to describe all.A wide doorway, ornamented with pilasters, leads to _the patio_, orgreat entrance court, at the end of which is the principal apartment,generally the dining room. On each side are bed chambers, receptionrooms, and cabinets for labour or study. Behind these apartments is the_huerta_, or garden, laid out with taste, ornamented with fountains, andplanted with orange trees, citron trees, pomegranates, limes, cedars,and palm trees, which grow with incredible luxuriance. Behind the gardenis the _corral_--a vast enclosure appropriated to horses and carriages.
The house into which we have introduced the reader, only differed fromthe others in the princely luxury of its furniture, which seemed toindicate that its inhabitant was a person of importance. The two men,still preceded by the woman, who served them as guide, entered a littleroom, whose window opened on the garden. They laid their burthen downupon a bed, and retired without speaking a word, but bowing respectfully.
The woman remained for a moment motionless, listening to the soundof their retreating footsteps; and when all was silent, she sprangwith a bound towards the door, the bolts of which she fastened withan impetuous gesture; then, returning and placing herself beside thewounded man, she fixed upon him a long and melancholy look.
This woman, though really thirty-five years of age, appeared to bescarcely more than five-and-twenty. She was of an extraordinary, but astrange style of beauty; it attracted attention, commanded admiration,but created an instinctive repulsion. In spite of the majestic splendourof her graceful form, the elegance of her carriage, the freedom of hermotions, full of voluptuous ease,--in spite of the purity of the linesof her fair face, slightly tinged by the warm rays of an American sun,which the magnificent tresses of her black hair beautifully enframed,her large black eyes, ornamented with long velvety lashes, and crownedby perfectly-arched brows, her straight nose, with its mobile and rosynostrils, her little mouth, whose blood-red lips contrasted admirablywith her pearl-white teeth--in spite of all these rich endowments,there was in this splendid creature something fatal, which chilled theheart as you contemplated her. Her searching glance, the satiricalsmile, which almost always contracted the corners of her lips, theslight wrinkle, which formed a harsh, deep line along her whitebrow--everything about her, even to the melodious sound of her voice,with its strongly-accentuated pitch, destroyed sympathy, and produced afeeling of hatred, rather than respect.
Alone in that chamber, dimly lighted by one flickering taper, in thatcalm and silent night, face to face with that pale, bleeding man, whomshe contemplated with stern, contracted brows, she resembled, with herlong, black hair falling in disorder from her shoulders on to her whiterobe, a Thessalian witch, preparing herself to accomplish some terribleand mysterious work.
The stranger was a man of, at most, forty-five years of age, of loftystature, strongly built, and well proportioned. His features werehandsome, his brow noble, and the expression of his countenance proud,but frank and resolute.
The woman remained for a considerable time in mute contemplation.Her bosom heaved, her brows became more and more contracted, and sheappeared to watch the too slow progress of the return to sensibilityof the man her emissaries had saved from death. At length words forcedtheir way through her compressed lips, and she murmured in a low, brokenvoice,--
"Here he is, then; this time, at least, he is in my power! Will heconsent to answer me? Oh! perhaps I had better have left him to die."
She paused to breathe a deep, broken sigh, but almost immediatelycontinued:--
"My daughter! my daughter! of whom this man has bereaved me! and whom,in spite of all my researches, he has hitherto concealed in someinviolable asylum! My daughter! he must restore her to me; it is mywill!" she added with inexpressible energy. "He shall, even if I hadto deliver him up again to the executioners from whom I have ravishedtheir prey! These wounds are nothing; loss of blood and terror are thesole causes of this insensibility. But time passes--my absence may benoticed. Why should I hesitate longer? Let me at once know what I haveto hope from him. Perhaps he will allow himself to be softened by mytears and prayers. What, he! he to whom all human feeling is unknown!Better for me to implore the most implacable Indian! He will laugh at mygrief, he will reply by sarcasms to my cries of despair;--oh! woe, woebe to him if he do so!"
She looked earnestly at the wounded man, who was still motionless, foranother instant, and then, adding resolutely, "I will try," she drewfrom her bosom a small crystal phial, curiously cut, and raising thehead of the unknown, made him inhale the contents. This was followed bya moment of intense expectation; the woman watching with an anxious eyethe convulsive movements which are the precursors of the return to life,as they agitated the body of the wounded man. At length, with a deepsigh, he opened his eyes.
"Where am I?" he murmured in a faint voice, then sank back, and closedhis eyes again.
"In safety," the woman replied.
The sound of the voice produced upon the wounded man the effect of anelectric shock. He raised himself quickly, and looking around him with amixture of disgust, terror, and anger, asked in a hollow voice,--
"Who spoke?"
"I!" the woman replied haughtily, placing herself before him.
"Ah!" he said with a gesture of disgust, and sinking back upon the bed;"you again! ever you!"
"Yes, I! still I, Don Tadeo! I, whose will, in spite of your disdainand your hatred, has never faltered! I, in short, whose assistance youhave always obstinately refused, and who have saved you, in spite ofyourself."
"Oh! that is an easy matter for you, madam; are you not on the bestpossible terms with my executioners?"
At this reply the woman could not repress a movement of anger; a suddenredness flitted across her face.
"No insults, Don Tadeo de Leon!" she said, stamping her foot; "I havesaved you! I am a woman, and you are under my roof!"
"That is true," he replied, risi
ng and bowing to her with ironicalrespect; "I had forgotten that, madam; I am in your house. Have thegoodness, then, to direct me the way out, that I may be gone as quicklyas possible."
"Do not be in such haste, Don Tadeo--you have not yet sufficientlyrecovered your strength. Within a few steps, you perhaps would fallagain, to be raised up by the agents of the power which, this time, Iswear to you, would not let you escape."
"And who told you, madam, that I should not prefer being retaken andexecuted a second time, to the chance of remaining longer in yourpresence?"
There was a moment of silence, during which the two interlocutorsobserved each other attentively. The woman was the first to speak.
"Listen to me, Don Tadeo," she said. "In spite of all your efforts,destiny, or, speaking more correctly, woman's genius, which nothing canresist, has brought us together once again. If you live, if you havereceived only slight wounds, it is because I lavished my gold upon thesoldiers charged with your execution; I wished to force you to thatexplanation which I have so long demanded of you, which you so oftenhave refused me, but which you can now no longer avoid. Submit, then,with a good grace. We will afterwards separate, if not good friends,at least indifferent, never to meet again. Though I do not wish toestablish any claim upon your gratitude, you certainly owe your life tome; were it for that service alone, you are bound to hear me."
"What! madam," Don Tadeo replied, proudly, "do you think that I considerwhat you have done was rendering me a service? By what right have yousaved my life? You know me but ill if you fancied I should allow myselfto be softened by your tears. No, no, I have been too long your dupe andyour slave to do so. Heaven be praised! I know you well now; and theLinda, the mistress of General Bustamente, the tyrant of my country, theexecutioner of my brothers and myself, has nothing to expect from me!All that you can say, all that you can do, will be to no purpose. Spareyourself, then, I advise you, the trouble of pretending a gentlenesswhich neither accords with your character nor your mode of life. Imadly loved you, a young, pure, and prudent girl, in the cabin of theworthy _guaso,_ your father, whose death was caused by your scandalouslife; you were then called Maria. At that period, would I not havesacrificed my life and my happiness for you?--you know I would. Manytimes have I given you proofs of that boundless love; but the Linda, theshameless courtezan, the Linda, the woman branded on the brow like Cainwith the seal of infamy, the miserable creature--I know her not. Away,madam!--away! There can be nothing in common between you and me."
And with a gesture of proud authority he waved her from him.
The woman had listened to him with flashing eyes and heaving bosom,trembling with rage and shame. Drops of perspiration stood upon herface, which glowed with a feverish redness. When he had finished, sheseized his arm, pressed it with her utmost strength, and placed her faceclose to his.
"Have you said all?" she muttered from between her teeth. "Have youheaped insults enough upon me? Have you cast sufficient mire in my face?Have you nothing more to add?"
"Nothing, madam," he replied, in a tone of cool contempt. "You can, whenyou please, summon your assassins--I am ready to receive them."
And throwing himself upon the bed, he waited with an air of the mostinsolent indifference.
[1] This word, which has no equivalent in English or French, is in theSpanish language the highest expression of physical beauty in woman.