The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico

  CHAPTER XVI.

  THE CONFESSOR.

  Mexico, as we have already stated, was, after the conquest, completelyrebuilt on the original plan, so that, at the present day, it offersnearly the same sight as struck Cortez when he entered it for the firsttime. The Plaza Mayor, especially, some years back, before the Frenchinnovations, more or less good, were introduced, offered towards eveninga most picturesque scene.

  This immense square is bounded on one side by the Portales deMercaderes; heavy arches supported on one side by immense stones, and onthe other by pilasters, at the foot of which are the alacenas or shops.

  The ayuntamiento, the president's palace, the cathedral, the sagrario,the portal de las flores, an immense bazaar for merchandize, and theParian, also a bazaar, complete, or rather completed, at the period whenour history takes place, the fourth side of the square, for recentlygreat changes have taken place, and the Parian, among other buildings,has disappeared. The handsomest streets, such as the Tacuba, Mint,Monterilla, Santo Domingo, etc., debouche on the great square.

  The cathedral stands exactly on the site of the ancient great MexicanTeocali, all the buildings of which it has absorbed; unfortunately thisbuilding, which is externally splendid, does not come up internally tothe idea formed of it, for its ornaments are in bad taste, poor andpaltry.

  Between five and six in the evening, or a few minutes before Oracion,the appearance of the Plaza Mayor becomes really fairy-like. The crowdof strollers--a strange crowd were there ever one--flocks up from allsides at once, composed of horsemen, pedestrians, officers, priests,soldiers, campesinos, leperos, Indian women in red petticoats, ladies offashion in their sayas, and all the people come, go, cross and jostleeach other, mingling their conversation with the cries of children,the vociferations of the leperos, who torment purchasers with theirimpetuosity, and the shrill appeals of the sellers of tamales andqueratero, crouching in the shade of the porticos.

  A few minutes before the Oracion, a Franciscan monk, recognizable by hisblue gown, and silken cord round his waist, and whose large white felthat, pulled down over the eyes, almost completely concealed his face,came from the Calle Monterilla, and entered the Plaza Mayor.

  This man, who was tall and apparently powerfully built, walked slowly,with hanging head and arms crossed on his chest, as if plunged inserious reflection. Instead of entering the thronged Portales, hecrossed the square and proceeded towards the Parian, which was verylively at the moment, for the Parian was a bazaar, resembling the Templeof Paris, and was visited at this period by persons, the leanness ofwhose purses only allowed them to purchase here their jewellery andsmart clothing, which, in any other part of the city would have beenmuch too expensive for them.

  Not attending to the noise or movement around him, the Franciscan leanthis shoulder against the stall of an evangelista, or public writer, andlooked absently and wearily across the square. He did not remain long inthis position, however, for just after he had reached the Parian, theOracion began. At the first peal of the cathedral bells, all the noisesceased in the square; the crowd stopped, heads were uncovered, and eachmuttered a short prayer in a low voice.

  At the last stroke of the Oracion, a hand was laid on the Franciscan'sshoulder, while a voice whispered in his ear--

  "You are exact to the rendezvous, Senor Padre."

  "I am performing my duty, my son," the monk at once answered, turninground.

  In the person who addressed him he doubtless recognized a friend, for heoffered him his hand by a spontaneous movement.

  "Are you still resolved to attempt the adventure?" the first speakercontinued.

  "More than ever, senor."

  "Bear in mind that you must not mention my name; we do not know eachother; you are a monk from the San Franciscan monastery, whom I fetchedto confess a young novice at the Convent of the Bernardines. It isunderstood that you do not know who I am?"

  "My brother, we poor monks are at the service of the afflicted; our dutyorders us to help them when they claim our support; as we have no namefor society, we are forbidden to ask that of those who summon us."

  "Excellently spoken," the other replied, repressing a smile. "You area monk according to my own heart. I see that I am not deceived withrespect to you; come then, my father, we must not keep the personwaiting who is expecting us."

  The Franciscan bowed his assent, placed himself in the right of hissingular friend, and both went away from the Parian, where the noisehad become louder than ever, after the angelos had ceased ringing. Thetwo men passed unnoticed through the crowd, and walked in the directionof the Convent of the Bernardines, going along silently, side by side.

  We have said that at the convent gate they passed Don Serapio de laRonda, that is to say, Valentine Guillois, and that the three menexchanged a side glance full of meaning. The sister porter made noobjection to admitting the Franciscan; and his guide, so soon as hesaw him inside the convent, took leave of him after exchanging a fewcommonplace compliments with the sister. The latter respectfully led themonk into a parlour, and after begging him to wait a moment, went awayto inform the Mother Superior of the arrival of the confessor whom theyoung novice had requested to see.

  We will leave the Franciscan for a little while to his meditations, andreturn to the two young ladies whom we left in the garden. So soon asthe abbess had withdrawn, they drew closer together, Dona Helena takingthe seat on the bench previously occupied by the abbess.

  "My dear Anita," she said, "let me profit by the few minutes we are leftalone to impart to you the contents of a letter I received this morning;I feared that I should be unable to do so, and yet it seems to me thatwhat I have to tell you is most important."

  "What do you mean, my dear Helena? Does the letter to which you referinterest me?"

  "I cannot positively explain to you, but it will be sufficient for youto know that my brothers are very intimate with a countryman of ours whotakes the greatest interest in you, and what I have to tell you relatesto this Frenchman."

  "That is strange," said Dona Anita, pausing. "I never knew but oneFrenchman, and I have told you the sad story which was the cause of allthe misfortunes that overwhelmed me. But the Frenchman whom my fatherwished me to marry died under frightful circumstances; then who can thisgentleman be who takes so lively an interest in me--do you know him?"

  "Very slightly," the young lady answered with a blush, "but sufficientlyto be able to assure you that he possesses a noble heart. He does notknow you personally; but," she added, as she drew a letter from herbosom, and opened it, "this is the passage in my brother's letter whichrefers to you and him. Shall I read it to you?"

  "Pray read it, my dear Helena, for I know the friendship you and yourfamily entertain for me; hence, it is with the greatest pleasure Ireceive news of your brothers."

  "Listen then," the young lady continued, and she read, after seeking forthe passage--

  "'Valentine begs me, dear sister, to ask you to tell your friend'--thatis you," she said, breaking off.

  "Go on," Dona Anita answered, whose curiosity had been aroused by thename Helena had pronounced, though it was impossible for her to knowwho that person was.

  "'To tell your friend,' Dona Helena continued, 'that the confessor sheasked for will come to the convent this very day after the Oracion. DonaAnita must arm herself with courage, which is as necessary to endurejoy as grief, for she will learn today some news possessing immenseimportance for the future.' That is underlined," the young lady added,as she bent over to her friend, and pointed to the sentence with the tipof her rosy finger.

  "That is strange," Dona Anita murmured. "Alas! what news can I learn?"

  "Who knows?" said her young companion, and then continued--"'Beforeall, Dona Anita must be prudent; and however extraordinary what shehears may appear to her, she must be careful to conceal the effectproduced by this revelation, for she must not forget that if she havedevoted friends, she is closely watched by all-powerful enemies, and theslightest imprudence would hopelessly neutra
lize all the efforts thatwe are making to save her. You cannot, my dear sister, lay sufficientstress on this recommendation.' The rest," the maiden added, with asmile, "only relates to myself, and it is, therefore, unnecessary for meto read it to you."

  And she refolded the letter, which disappeared in her dress again.

  "And now, my darling, you are warned," she said; "so be prudent."

  "Good heaven! I do not understand the letter at all, nor do I know theValentine to whom it alludes. It was by your advice that I asked for aconfessor."

  "That is to say, by my brother's advice, who, as you know, Anita, placedme here, not merely because I love you as a sister, but also to supportand encourage you."

  "And I am grateful both to you and him for it, dear Helena; if I hadnot you near me, in spite of the friendship our worthy and kind mothercondescends to grant me, I should long ago have succumbed to my grief."

  "The question is not about me at this moment, my darling, butsolely about yourself. However obscure and mysterious my brother'srecommendation may be, I know him to be too earnest and too truly kindfor me to neglect it. Hence I cannot find language strong enough to urgeyou to prudence."

  "I seek in vain to guess what the news is to which he refers; and Iacknowledge that I feel a secret repugnance to see the confessor heannounces to me. Alas! I have everything to fear, and nothing to hopenow."

  "Silence," Dona Helena said, quietly. "I hear the sound of footsteps inthe walk leading to this arbour. Someone is coming. So we must not letourselves be surprised."

  "In fact, almost at the same moment the lay sister, who had alreadyinformed the Mother Superior of the arrival of Don Serapio de la Ronda,appeared at the entrance of the arbour.

  "Senorita," she said, addressing Dona Helena, "our holy mother abbesswishes to speak to you as well as to Dona Anita without delay. She iswaiting for you in her private cell in the company of a holy Franciscanmonk."

  The maidens exchanged a glance, and a transient flush appeared on DonaAnita's pale cheeks.

  "We will follow you, sister," Dona Helena replied. The maidens rose;Dona Helena passed her arm through her companion's, and stooping down,whispered in her ear--

  "Courage, Querida."

  They followed the lay sister, who led them to the Mother Superior'scell, and discreetly withdrew on reaching the door. The abbess appearedto be talking rather excitedly with the Franciscan monk; but, on seeingthe two girls, she ceased speaking, and rose.

  "Come, my child," she said, as she held out her arms to Dona Anita,"come and thank God who in his infinite goodness has deigned to performa miracle on your behalf."

  The maiden stopped through involuntary emotion, and looked wildly aroundher. At a sign from the abbess the monk rose, and throwing back his hoodat the same time as he fell on his knees before the maiden, he said toher in a voice faltering with emotion--

  "Anita, do you recognize me?"

  At the sound of this voice, whose sympathetic notes made all the fibresof her heart vibrate, the maiden suddenly drew herself back, totteredand fell into the arms of Dona Helena, as she shrieked with an accentimpossible to describe--

  "Martial! oh, Martial!"

  A sob burst from her overcharged bosom, and she burst into tears. Shewas saved, since the immense joy she so suddenly experienced had notkilled her. The Tigrero, as weak as the woman he loved, could only findtears to express all his feelings.

  For some minutes the abbess and Dona Helena trembled lest these twobeings, already so tried by misfortune, would not find within themselvesthe necessary strength to resist so terrible an emotion; but a powerfulreaction suddenly took place in the tiger-slayer's mind; he sprang upat one leap, and seized in his arms the maiden, who, on her side, wasmaking efforts to rush to him--

  "Anita, dear Anita," he cried, "I have found you again at last; oh, nowno human power will be able to separate us!"

  "Never, never!" she murmured, as she let her head fall on the youngman's shoulder; "Martial, my beloved Martial, protect me, save me!"

  "Oh, yes, I will save you; angel of my life," he exclaimed, looking updefiantly to heaven; "we will be united, I swear it to you."

  "Is that the prudence you promised me?" the abbess said, interposing;"remember the perils of every description that surround you, and theimplacable foes who have sworn your destruction; lock up in your heartthese feelings which, if revealed before one of the countless spies whowatch you, would cause your death and that, perhaps, of the poor girlyou love."

  "Thank you, madam," the Tigrero replied; "thank you for having remindedme of the part I must play for a few days longer. If I forgot it fora few seconds, subdued by the passion that devours my heart, I willhenceforth adhere to it carefully. Do not fear lest I should imperil thehappiness that is preparing for me; no, I will restrain my feelings, andlet myself be guided by the counsel of the sincere friends to whom I owethe moments of ineffable happiness I am now enjoying."

  "Oh! I now understand," Dona Anita exclaimed, "the mysterious hintsgiven me. Alas! misfortune made me suspicious; so forgive me, heaven,forgive me, holy mother, and you too, Helena, my kind and faithfulfriend. I did not dare hope, and feared a snare."

  "I forgive you, my poor child," the abbess answered; "who could blameyou?"

  Dona Helena pressed her friend to her heart without saying a word.

  "Oh, now our misfortunes are at an end, Anita," the Tigrero exclaimedpassionately; "we have friends who will not abandon us in the supremestruggle we are engaging in with our common enemy. God, who has hithertodone everything for us, will not leave his work incomplete; have faithin Him, my beloved."

  "Martial," the maiden replied, with a firmness that astonished herhearers, "I was weak because I was alone, but now that I know you live,and are near me to support me, oh! if I were to fall dead at the feetof my persecutor, I would not be false to the oath I took to be yoursalone. Believing you dead, I remained faithful to your memory; but now,if persecution assailed me, I should find the strength to endure it."

  This scene would have been prolonged, but prudence urged that the abbessshould break it off as soon as possible. Dona Anita, rendered strongmerely by the nervous excitement which possessed her, soon felt faint;she could scarcely stand, and Don Martial himself felt his energyabandoning him.

  The separation was painful between these two beings so miraculouslyre-united when they never expected to see each other again; but it wassoothed by the hope of soon meeting again under the protection of theMother Superior, who had done so much for them, and whose inexhaustiblekindness they had entirely gained for their cause.

  For the first time since she had entered the convent, Dona Anita smiledthrough her tears, as she offered up to heaven her nightly prayers.Don Martial went off rapidly to tell Valentine of what had taken placeat this interview, which he had so long desired. Dona Helena, however,retired pensively to her cell; the maiden was dreaming--of what?

  No one could have said, and probably she herself was ignorant; but, forsome days past, an obtrusive thought unnecessarily occupied her mind,and constantly troubled the calm mirror in which her virgin thoughtswere reflected.