As we have already said, the count sprang up on hearing a rap at the door of his house.
"Who can come at this hour," he muttered. "I expect nobody."
And he went to the door and opened it. Three men entered, wrapped closely in their cloaks. The darkness in the room prevented Don Louis recognising their features, which were, besides, half hidden by the brims of their sombreros.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said to them. "Who are you, and what would you with me?"
"Oh, oh!" one of the newcomers said with a laugh. "By Jupiter! That is a very dry reception."
Don Louis started at the sound of this voice, which he recognised at once.
"Valentine!" he exclaimed with emotion.
"By Jove!" the other said gaily, as he threw off his cloak, "I suppose you thought I was dead?"
"And do you not recognise me, Señor Don Louis?" the second person said, also throwing off his cloak.
"Don Cornelio, my friend, you are welcome."
"That's right," Valentine went on; "we are beginning to understand one another at last—that is fortunate. Were you going out?"
"Yes, but for no urgent matter."
"I do not disturb you, then?"
"On the contrary, sit down and let us talk."
"All right."
"Have you supped?"
"Not yet; and you?"
"Nor I either. That is capital—we will sup here together. In that way we can say what we like, and not fear listeners, unless you prefer going to the hotel."
"St! Deuce take me if I care about it. Let us sup here, my boy; it will be better in every way."
"That is what I thought. Let me give some orders, and I shall be at your service."
Louis went out.
"Ouf!" Valentine said, stretching himself in an easy chair, "I am beginning to get tired. How do you feel, Don Cornelio?"
"I!" the latter replied with a sigh. "I can move neither arm nor leg; I walk about like a somnambulist."
"Nonsense! Such a stout fellow as you."
"Stout as you please—do you know we have not been to bed or to sleep for seven nights?"
"Do you think so?" the Frenchman said carelessly.
"Capa de Dios! Do I think so? I am sure of it. The proof of it is, that in those seven days we rode three hundred leagues, and killed ten horses."
"On my word, that is true."
"So you see——"
"Well, what do you conclude from that?"
"Why, that you were in a hurry."
"And yet, in spite of all our diligence, my friend thinks that we have been too slow."
"Then I must say he is not reasonable. But are we going to leave the chief kicking his heels at the door?"
"Good gracious! I never thought of him," Valentine said as he rose.
And he walked toward the door.
At the same moment Curumilla appeared at one end of the room, while Don Louis came in at the other, at the head of several servants. Louis placed the candlesticks he held in his hand on the table, and turning to his friend,—
"Where are you going?" he asked him.
"To look for Curumilla, whom I left in charge of the horses; but there he is!"
"Do not trouble yourself about the horses; I have given orders as to them."
"To supper, then, for I am dying of hunger; my comrades and myself have eaten nothing for sixteen hours."
The four men sat down to the table, which had been copiously covered with dishes of every description. The meal began: the guests ate for a long time without exchanging a word. The newcomers had an imperious necessity to recruit their strength. At length, when the edge was slightly taken off his appetite, Valentine poured out some drink, and addressing his foster brother, began the conversation.
"Why, Louis, do you know that you are not difficult to find in this deuce of a city? Your reputation appears to be enormous."
"How so?" Louis said with a smile.
"By Jove! Everybody knows your address: they only call you the general. I did not need to ask many questions to find this house—everybody offered to guide me. It seems as if affairs are going on well, eh?"
The count smiled softly; but, before replying, he made the servants a sign to leave the room, and when the door was closed upon them,—
"All goes on very well," he said; "but now that you have arrived it will go on better still."
"Ah, ah! You think so?" Valentine said, sipping like an amateur the Bordeaux in his glass.
"I hope so."
"Well, you are not mistaken, brother; I hope so too."
Louis gave a start of joy.
"You have been a long time in coming," he said.
"Do you think so?"
"If you knew how impatiently I expected you."
"I suppose so; but believe me, my friend, when you have heard all I have done, only one thing will astonish you—that I am here already."
"What do you mean?"
"Patience! Tell me first what you have been doing during our separation. But one word first—have you beds for us?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, as supper is over, through pity for Don Cornelio, who is asleep in that easy chair, let him be taken to a bed, where he can repose at his ease: he needs it, I assure you."
"The fact is," the Spaniard stammered, "that my eyes will close, in spite of all my efforts to keep them open."
Louis had risen. On a signal he gave, a servant took charge of Don Cornelio, and led him away. Curumilla had lighted his calumet, and was smoking silently.
"Now for us two," Valentine said.
"But the chief," Louis observed: "does he not wish to rest?"
"Do not trouble yourself about him—he is made of iron; but if by any accident sleep comes upon him, you need not be alarmed—he will stretch himself in a corner of this room."
"Very good. Now, then, listen to me."
"I am all attention."
Louis gave his friend a detailed account of all he had done since his return to San Francisco. The narrative was long, for the count had much to tell. Valentine listened with the closest attention, not interrupting him once. The night was far advanced when Louis at length ended his report. Curumilla was still smoking.
When the count stopped there was a moment's silence, and then Valentine took the word.
"You have done miracles. You have accomplished impossibilities."
"Then you are satisfied with me?"
"I admire you. You have displayed in all this business incredible energy and intelligence. Now let us arrive at the financial question."
"Yes, that is the serious point at this moment. Unfortunately it will not be so easy to settle as the others."
"Who knows? Then you owe a deal of money?"
"An enormous sum."
"Oh, oh!"
"Why, you understand I had everything to buy."
"That is right; and you possessed?"
"As you know, nothing."
"Hum, hum! The account is clear. Then you owe for everything?"
"Nearly so."
"Are your accounts in order?"
"Of course, as I only waited for you to start."
"Let us have a look at them."
Louis opened a drawer, from which he took several papers covered with figures. He spread them out on the table with a stifled sigh.
"Why do you sigh?" Valentine asked him.
"Because I am anxious."
"Anxious about what?"
"Why, hang it! About paying them."
Valentine smiled.
"Nonsense!" he said, "let us look all the same."
The count bent over the papers.
"What are you doing?" Valentine said.
"I am calculating."
"What is the good? Tell me the totals only—that will be quicker."
"You are right: 17,533 piastres, 6 reals."
"Good!" Valentine commenced writing the amount in pencil on a piece of waste paper. "Next."
"Twenty-one thousand two hundred and seven piastres, five reals."
"Very good: go on."
"Twelve thousand eight hundred and twenty-three piastres."
"No reals?"
"No."
"Go on."
"Seven thousand six hundred and seventy-five piastres, six reals."
"Six reals. Very good. What next?"
"That is all."
"What! No more?"
"Is not that enough?"
"I do not mean that; but, from the way you spoke, I expected a formidable amount."
"Is not this so?"
"Not so very. Come, let us add it up."
"That is very easy. Here it is: total, 59,239 piastres, 7 reals."
"Seven reals. The total is correct. Have you not a few small debts beside?"
"Of course, I have a few personal matters to pay; and then I should not like to start empty-handed."
"That would be awkward; so that, as far as I can see you will want about eighty or one hundred thousand piastres to be perfectly clear?"
"Oh! Then I should have more than I require."
"It is better to have too much than not enough."
"That is true; but where to find such a sum?"
"Let me tell you a story."
"Eh?" Louis said in surprise. "Are you jesting, brother?"
"I never jest in serious matters. Listen to my story, I am convinced that it will interest you."
Louis could not suppress a movement of ill temper. He fell back in his chair, and crossed his arms.
"Speak," he said, "I am listening."
"Patience!" Valentine said, with a smile.
The count tossed his head.
"I am beginning," the hunter went on. "You remember in what way we parted at the venta of San José?"
"Perfectly."
"The next day I sold the herd in a lump. Another time, I will explain to you in what way; and I shall have certain explanations to ask of you. For the present, suffice it for you to know that I made an excellent deal, and sold it for 14,630 piastres."
"A famous sum! Unfortunately, we are still far from our reckoning."
"Patience! Then the bargain was a good one."
"Excellent: I should not have got such a price here."
"All the better; at Guaymas I took a bill on Wilson and Baker. Do you know them?"
"Very well; it is a substantial house."
"Good! Then tomorrow we will cash it. After selling the herd, I left San José with my two friends, not knowing, I confess, how to procure the money I had promised you, and of which you had such pressing need."
"A need I still have," Louis observed.
"Agreed," Valentine continued; "after galloping about for a long time, without knowing exactly where we were going, I resolved to ask my companions' advice. Of course Don Cornelio could suggest nothing. He contented himself with strumming a melancholy air on his guitar: you know that is his resource in embarrassing circumstances. You have known Curumilla as long as I have: the worthy chief only speaks when he is compelled; but when he opens his mouth, he speaks gold, and this time it really occurred."
While saying this, Valentine could not refrain from smiling. Louis turned to the chief, to whom he offered his hand, which the other pressed with a grimace of pleasure. The hunter continued,—
"From the descriptions you had given me, I knew pretty nearly the position of the mine of which you had become proprietor. Curumilla offered to take us there. 'We shall be very unlucky,' he said, 'we who know the desert so well, if we do not succeed in foiling the Indians and reaching the mine. Once there, we will take as much native gold as we want to satisfy our friend's wants.' As the advice was good, I resolved to follow it."
"What!" Louis shouted, rising hurriedly, "you did that, brother?"
"Of course I did."
"But you ran a risk of assassination at every step."
"I knew it; but I knew also that you must have a large sum."
"Oh, brother, brother!" Louis exclaimed, in great emotion, "so much devotion, while I was accusing you."
"You did not know what I was doing; you were right."
"Oh! I shall never forgive myself."
"Nonsense! Did we not swear once for all, to be entirely devoted to each other?"
"That is true. Oh! You have nobly kept your oath everywhere and ever, brother."
"And have you not done the same? Besides, this time the idea does not belong to me; I only followed the chief's advice."
"Oh, he is like you; you dare not say anything to him, or he would be vexed."
Curumilla laid down his calumet for an instant; and, approaching the count, laid his hand on his shoulder, and looking at him with an expression impossible to describe, while touching the Frenchman's chest and his own in turn,—
"Koutenepi," he said, in a quivering voice, "Louis, Curumilla—three brothers, one heart."
And he sat down again.
There was a long pause. The two white men were admiring the devotion and admiration of this brave Indian, who only lived for and through them, and asked themselves in their hearts, if, in spite of the warm friendship they bore him, they were really worthy of so profound an attachment.
"In short," Valentine went on at last, "no sooner said than done. I will not describe to you the incidents of our journey, for that would occupy too much precious time. Suffice it for you to know that, thanks to our lengthened prairie experience, after surmounting innumerable obstacles, and almost falling into the clutches of the redskins a hundred times, we at length reached the mine. Oh, brother, I know not the riches of the Californian placers, but I doubt whether they can be compared to the one of which you are now owner."
"Ah!" Louis exclaimed; "it is true then, it is rich?"
"Brother, its riches are incalculable; the native gold is found on the surface. Even I, whose, I will not say disinterestedness, but whose indifference for gold you know, was dazzled, so dazzled, that for some moments I could not imagine what I saw was real. I asked myself was I awake, or if I was not dreaming."
While Valentine spoke thus, Louis walked up and down the room, wiping away the perspiration that stood on his forehead.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, much agitated; "now I shall succeed, no matter what may happen."
"Do not defy chance, brother," Valentine replied sorrowfully.
"Do not fancy, brother, that these immense riches turn me mad. No, no; what do I care for self? I am thinking of the poor fellows I have attached to my fortunes; those who have placed confidence in me, and who will be happy through me. No, I do not defy chance; I thank Providence."
He sat down again, poured out a glass of water, which he swallowed at a draught, and passing his hand over his brow,—
"Go on, now," he said; "I am calm."
"I have not much more to add. I had taken with me three bât horses; I loaded them. I put gold, too, in my alforjas, in Curumilla's, and in Don Cornelio's. That worthy gentleman was perfectly mad: he bounded like a wild colt, and strummed his guitar furiously. He would not leave the placer, but insisted on awaiting our return there, alone. I was almost obliged to employ force to carry him off, so greatly had the sight of that gold fascinated him. In conclusion, you asked me for 80,000 piastres. Here are bills for 150,000 on Wilson and Baker. Add the price of the herd sold at San José, and you have a sum of 164,000 piastres, which is a very pretty lump of money in my opinion. What do you say?"
He then drew the bills from his breast, and handed them to his foster brother. Louis was confounded. He could not find words to reply.
"Ah!" Valentine added carelessly, "I forgot. As I supposed you would not be sorry to have a specimen of your placer, to show your partners, I brought you this."
He handed him a lump of gold, about as large as a man's fist. Louis took it mechanically, laid it on the table, and looked at it for an instant with a fixed and haggard eye; then two tears coursed down his pallid cheeks, and a sob burst from his chest. He stretched out his arms; and, seizing Valentine and Curumilla, drew them to him, and embraced them passionately, murmuring,—
"Brothers, brothers! Thanks not only for myself, but for our poor countrymen, whom your sublime devotion has saved from wretchedness, perhaps from crime!"
French emigration, in America or elsewhere, has rarely, or, to speak more truthfully, has never succeeded.
Whence does this result? The Frenchman is brave to rashness, intelligent, and laborious. He laughs and sings continually, supporting with the greatest philosophy the rudest blows of fortune, and carelessly confiding in the future. All that is true. But the Frenchman is no coloniser; that is to say, under all circumstances, he remains a Frenchman, and does not wish to be anything else.
The French emigrant, when he quits his country, retains always, not only the desire, but the intention of seeing it again some day. All his efforts tend to acquire the necessary sum to return to the village or town where he was born. No matter whether chance deserts him, he ever regards himself as a traveller and not as a sojourner; whatever be the position he may achieve, his eyes are incessantly fixed on France, the only country, in his opinion, where men can live and die happily.
Infatuated by his nationality, never willing to make the slightest concession to the habits, creeds, and manners of the people, with whom he is temporarily obliged to live, esteeming them as far beneath himself in intelligence and civilisation, the Frenchman passes through foreign nations with a sardonic smile on his lips, and a mocking glance—shrugging his shoulders in contempt at all that he sees, without trying to explain it, and preferring a sarcasm to a good lesson. Hence it generally happens that the Frenchman is not only not loved; but in spite of his open, frank, and merry character, is almost detested, by foreigners.
At San Francisco, the French emigrants—being without any socialities, and composed of individuals of every description, who shunned or tried to injure each other, instead of affording mutual aid—were, we are forced to confess, very slightly esteemed by the Americans, those colonisers par excellence. A few energetic men had contrived individually to make the French name respected.
Count de Prébois' expedition was consequently, in every respect, a blessing for his unhappy countrymen: in the first place by delivering them from the frightful want that held them in its iron clutches; and secondly by elevating them in their own eyes, and in those of the adventurers of every country whom the mineral yellow fever had attracted to these parts.
The count's enterprise had the result of rendering the French colony, at first so despised, highly respectable; and the Americans now began to feel secretly jealous of it. The enlistment of the French company to work the rich placers of Apacheria, was the important event of the day; it was spoken of everywhere. A number of adventurers burnt to take part in the expedition, and employed every means to gain acceptance.
But, as we have said, the count had laid down in this respect a line of conduct from which he would not deviate: the principal condition of enlistment was the fact of being a Frenchman; thus any number of poor fellows was rejected by the count, and many a violent enmity did he collect on his head, but the count cared little for all the disturbance; he continued his work imperturbably. Thus, as we have said, when Valentine arrived at San Francisco, the company was almost complete, and composed of picked men.
The hunter heard the news from his friend's lips, with the greatest satisfaction.
"Come," he said; "you have lost no time."
"Have I?"
"By Jove! To form a mining company, and collect a body of men in less than two months, is no trifle. I congratulate you with all my heart."
"Thank you. Still, without you nothing would have been effected; for mark the fact, Valentine, that although I have the richest capitalists and highest men in Mexico as shareholders in the Atravida, not one of them would have advanced me an ochavo to pay the expenses of the organisation, which I was bound to settle alone."
"That is a clever arrangement, brother. You have to deal with cunning shareholders."
"All the better. I will soon prove to them that they did wrong in not giving me all that confidence I deserve."
"I like that way of revenging yourself. But tell me——"
"What?"
"Have you influential men among your shareholders?"
"What do you mean by influential?"
"Why, men whose political position offers you a certain guarantee against the annoyances which will be inevitably created down there, to prevent the success of your enterprise, and prepare its failure."
"I fear nothing of the sort."
"All the better."
"Judge for yourself. I have among my shareholders the French envoy at Mexico, the French consul at Guaymas, the Governor of Sonora, and many others."
"Did you not say the Governor of Sonora?"
"Yes."
"Ah, ah, ah!"
"Well?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Yes, you mean something; so speak."
"Indeed, why should I make a mystery of it? Do you know this governor?"
"No. I only know that he is colossally rich, that his name is Don Sebastian Guerrero, and he is a general."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Well, you are mistaken in fancying you do not know him."
"Nonsense."
"Yes; and as it appears, you have even rendered him a great service."
"You are jesting; I never saw him."
"That is your mistake. Like the worthy knight errant, you are, you saved him from the hands of the miscreants."
"Come, speak seriously."
"I am doing so. In one word, you saved his life and his daughter's."
"I? You are mad."
"Not the least in the world. Indeed the father, and especially the young lady—who, between ourselves, is delightful—entertain the most affecting reminiscences of you."
"Who on earth told you that fine story?"
"Who? why the general himself."
"That is a little too strong."
"Come, think a little. About three or four years back, I do not know exactly which, did you not after leaving Guadalajara——?"
"Wait a minute," the count said hurriedly. "It would be strange if the person I saved were really the same——"
"Strange or no, it is."
"Well, then, that is famous for us."
"By Jove! We have a powerful friend, who will defend us tooth and nail against all comers. That is famous. I really believe Providence is declaring for us."
"I did not know that the Mexicans were gifted with so excellent a memory."
"I rather think it is the Mexican ladies in this case."
"No matter; the circumstance is of good augury."
"I hope you will profit by it."
"As much as I can."
"Bravo! And now that your affairs are settled, or nearly so, when do you intend to make a move?"
"I have certain arrangements still to make; so I cannot leave San Francisco before ten days."
"Can I be of any service to you?"
"None here; but over there, great."
"That is to say——"
"Are you fatigued?"
"Fatigued of what?"
"Why, of riding about in the fashion you have done, for some time past?"
"Once for all, and let that be carefully understood between us, remember that I am never tired."
"Good! Then you can render me a service?"
"What is it?"
"Though I cannot start for ten days, you can be in the saddle by daybreak, I suppose?"
"Of course."
"You must return by land to Sonora, to deliver three letters I will give you, one for Don Antonio Pavo, consular agent at Guaymas, the second for the Governor of Sonora, and the third for a certain Canadian hunter whom you will probably find at the Hacienda del Milagro, in the neighbourhood of Tepic."
"I will do it. Is that all?"
"Yes. You understand that I do not wish to arrive there, before preparations have been made for my reception."
"You are right: so I start——"
"Tomorrow."
"You mean today: it is now two o'clock."
"By Jove! That is true. How time slips away."
"Where shall I wait for you?"
"At Guaymas."
"That is understood. Write the letters while Curumilla and I saddle the three horses."
"Will you take your Spaniard with you?"
"Yes, he will be useful to me there."
"As you please."
Valentine and Curumilla went out, while Louis began his letters. Valentine, after saddling the horses, was conducted to the room where Don Cornelio was asleep. We must do the Spaniard the justice of saying that he offered the most obstinate resistance to the hunter, and it was not till he was compelled, that he left the bed in which he slept so comfortably. At length, when Valentine had succeeded, part by persuasion, part by carrying him, in placing him on his saddle and confiding him to Curumilla, he returned to the room where he had left his foster brother. The letters were ready; and Valentine took them.
"Now, brother, good-bye," he said, "and may you be fortunate."
The two men remained for a long time in an affectionate embrace. Louis knew the hunter too well, to try and induce him to take a few hours' rest; he, therefore, accompanied him to the gate, where the four men exchanged a parting greeting, and, at a sign from Valentine, the horses started at full speed. They soon disappeared in the darkness, but the sound of their horses' hoofs re-echoed for a long time on the hardened soil. Louis remained motionless in the gateway, so long as the slightest sound reached his ear, and then went in again, murmuring:—
"A man must be accursed who does not succeed, with such devoted friends."
The count worked through the whole night, not thinking of taking a moment's rest. The sun was already high on the horizon, and he still remained bent over the table, writing figures after figures. The door opened; and the person we saw talking confidentially with the count on the previous evening entered. Louis started at the noise, but on recognising his visitor a smile played over his stern countenance.
"You are welcome, consul," he said gaily, as he offered him his hand; "you could not have arrived at a better moment. Have you come to breakfast?"
"Yes, my dear count; for I wish to talk seriously with you."
"All the better, for I shall keep you the longer. Take a chair, and pardon my being surprised in this state, but I have spent the night in arranging these documents. Deuce take the man who invented writing and accounts."
The consul, for the gentleman was no other than the French representative in California, sat down, smiling; and, by the count's orders, an appetising breakfast was served almost immediately. The two gentlemen sat down opposite each other, and began a vigorous attack on the dishes.
"Well," Louis said presently, "any news?"
"Bad."
"Ah, ah! That worthy Jonathan is yelping, I suppose?"
"Louder than ever."
"Look at that! And why, may I ask?"
"You can guess it."
"Nearly so; but no matter, out with it."
"You are aware that you have made a number of enemies here?"
"Well, it was not my own fault."
"That is true! Well, these enemies are stirring, and making loud remarks."
"About what?"
"Why, you know people can always find something to turn into scandal. They say that the expedition will fail, that you are reduced to expedients, and that you do not know how to escape from your present position."
"Is that all?"
"No. They add, that you have contracted enormous debts, which you will never succeed in paying."
"Good again!"
"You understand that these calumnies produce a very bad effect."
"Naturally."
"I have therefore come to you, my dear count. I am not rich, unfortunately; still, I have at my disposal some 20,000 piastres. I am a shareholder in the company, and it is therefore my duty to come to its assistance; so I frankly offer you the money, which may be of some slight service to you."
The count cordially pressed his guest's hand.
"Thanks!" he said to him, with suppressed emotion, touched by the delicacy of this noble and generous procedure.
"Yes," the consul continued, ransacking his pockets, and producing a bundle of notes; "we must silence these scoundrels. Here is the amount."
And he offered the notes to the count, who declined them with a gentle smile.
"You are mistaken as to the meaning of the word I used," he remarked. "I thanked you, not because I accept your generous offer, but because it proves to me the esteem in which you hold me."
"Still——" the consul urged him.
"Again I thank you; but all my debts will be paid within an hour. I have at this moment nearly 200,000 piastres at my disposal."
The consul looked at him, open-eyed.
"But yesterday——?" he said.
"Yes!" the count interrupted him quietly, "yesterday I had nothing, today I am rich. I will explain to you this very simple miracle."
When the count ended his narrative, the consul pressed his hand joyfully.
"Good gracious!" he said, "you do not know, my dear count, what pleasure you cause me at this moment; you have staunch friends."
"Among whom I may reckon yourself."
"Oh! As for me," he said simply; "that is not astonishing; for am I not one of your shareholders?"
As soon as breakfast was over, the count set out to settle with his creditors, or rather those of the company, in order to destroy all excuse for malevolence, and close the mouth of the envious. After this, the count lost no time in making his final arrangements, and enlisting the few men he was still short of.
In a word, as he told Valentine when he left him, ten days had scarce elapsed since their nocturnal meeting, ere all the preparations were ended, and the company only awaited a favourable moment to embark and start.
The day on which the French company embarked for Sonora was a memorable one for San Francisco. The North American, beneath his cold and straight-laced appearance, conceals a warm and enthusiastic heart. When the Frenchmen entered the boats which were to bear them to the ship, for a moment and as if by enchantment, all enmities were silenced; and an enthusiastic mob, congregated on the pier, accompanied them with shouts and wishes for success, while waving their hats and handkerchiefs.
The count, as was his duty, was the last to embark. Several of his friends, among them being the consul, bore him company. As he leaped into the boat, the count turned, and pressed the consul's hand in parting.
"Good-bye," he said. "I will succeed, or Sonora shall be my tomb."
"Good-bye, till we meet again, my friend," the other answered. "I will not say farewell; I feel convinced that you will succeed."
"God grant it," Louis murmured, as he leaped into the boat and shook his head sadly.
A formidable shout burst from the crowd. The count bowed with a smile, and the boat started. An hour later, the white sails of the ship that bore the adventurers glistened, like a kingfisher's wing, on the horizon. The consul, who remained on the beach till the last moment, slowly walked homeward, saying to himself:—
"Whatever may happen, that man is not an adventurer, but a hero. He has more genius than Cortez. Will he be equally lucky?"
As several interesting events of our narrative will take place at Guaymas, we will describe that town in a few words.
Mexico possesses several roadsteads in the Pacific; but in reality has only two ports worthy that name, Guaymas and Acapulco. For the present, we will confine ourselves to the former.
Owing to a large quantity of islands which surround the port like a hill, and the lofty coasts, the roads are in all weathers as sure and calm as a lake. The sea breaks gently on shores adorned with mango trees, whose pale green forms a strange contrast to the earthy red of the beach, and gives the port a wild and desolate aspect, further increased by the continual silence of the roads, where a few ships seek shelter at rare intervals under the isle Del Venado, but, where usually only a few coasters are visible, or wretched canoes, hollowed out of trunks of trees, and belonging to the Hiaqui Indians.
The town stretches carelessly along the beach, with its white, low, and flat-roofed houses, defended by a fort built of red clay, armed with a few rusty and unserviceable guns. Guaymas, like all the pueblos of the republic, is dirty, ill built, and the streets are unpaved; in short, at each step you acquire proofs of that carelessness and egotistic incapacity which characterises the Mexicans. Behind the town, rise lofty and denuded mountains, which protect it from the cold winds of the Cordilleras.
Still, Guaymas, founded only a few years back, and whose population is but 6,000 at the utmost, is destined ere long, owing to the security of its port, and its magnificent position, to acquire a great commercial importance.
The day on which we resume our story, about an hour after the oración, or at seven in the evening, a man, wrapped in a thick cloak, and with the brim of his sombrero pulled down over his eyes, stopped at the door of a rather handsome house, and after casting a furtive glance around, to see that he was not watched, gave discreetly three separate knocks. This manner of rapping was evidently a signal; and the man we allude to must have been expected, for the door opened at once. The stranger entered, and the door was noiselessly closed after him.
The stranger then found himself in one of those inner patios found in all the houses of Guaymas; but he probably was perfectly acquainted with the place; for, without a second's hesitation, he turned to the left, mounted a few steps, and rapped at a second door, which was before him, in the same way as he had done at the first.
"Come in," a voice shouted from within.
The stranger pushed the door, which yielded to the pressure, and entered a large room, which might be considered to be furnished with a certain degree of luxury for Mexico, and especially for a province so remote as Sonora. But this luxury was in bad taste, and smelled of the parvenu. The furniture and pictures that decorated the room had been probably purchased or exchanged with the captain of the vessels that at times put into Guaymas, and presented the strangest possible discordance of style.
A man was seated in a butaca, almost in the centre of the room, and carelessly smoking a pajillo. When the stranger entered, he nodded to him, pointed to a chair, and said laconically,—
"Shut the door, and sit down."
The stranger took off his cloak and hat, which he threw on a sideboard; and, after closing the door as he had been recommended, he fell into a butaca with a sigh of satisfaction. We will describe these two new characters in a few words.
The first—that is to say, the master of the house—was a plump little fellow, as broad as he was long, with ordinary features, while his little sharp eyes gave his face an expression of soothing falseness and cowardly villainy. He was about fifty years of age, though he did not appear so, owing to the freshness of his apoplectic complexion, and long, flat, and greasy masses of black hair, which fell below his red and coarse ears. This worthy personage was dressed in the European fashion, with a profusion of jewellery, and rings on his fingers; and, through his costume and manners, which were made up of effrontery and timidity, he bore a considerable likeness to a butcher or a cattle dealer in his Sunday clothes.
His visitor, whom we have met before by the way, formed a perfect contrast with him. He was a half-breed, of Indian and Mexican descent, tall, dry, and thin as a lath; his face, like a knife blade, was adorned with an enormous beaked nose, which overshadowed a mouth stretching from ear to ear, and full of teeth white as almonds; round eyes with blood-shot eyelids, constantly agitated by a convulsive movement, completed the strangest and most sinister face that could be conceived. A cruel mocking smile continually moved his thin lips, and added to the feeling of discomfort his entire person inspired. In a word, his approach produced that clammy coldness felt in touching a viper or any other reptile. Beneath his cloak he wore the gold embroidered uniform of the higher Mexican officers. His name was Don Francisco Florés, and he wore the badge of a colonel in the Mexican service. We shall soon learn who was the hideous person, concealed under this borrowed name.
The colonel, after seating himself, took out some tobacco, made a cigarette, and began smoking with the most superb nonchalance. For some minutes the two men remained silent, examining each other with the corner of the eye. At last, the former, doubtlessly fatigued by this obstinate inquisition, which weighed upon him, and from which he could not escape, resolved to take the word.
"Caballero," he said, "you see that the instructions conveyed in the letter you did me the honour of writing to me, have been followed out point for point."
The colonel made a sign of assent, while emitting an enormous puff of smoke. The other continued,—
"Now I will take the liberty of observing that I do not at all understand your singular missive, and that I see no reason why you should surround yourself with so great a mystery."
"Ah!" the colonel said, with a laugh peculiar to himself, and which bore a strong likeness to a pile of plates breaking.
"Yes," the first speaker continued, annoyed by this irreverence; "and I should not be sorry, I confess, to have a clear and categorical explanation."
And, saying this, he drew himself up haughtily in his butaca; and regarded his visitor fixedly. The latter did not appear at all affected by this hostile manifestation; on the contrary, he stretched out his legs, and said, as he threw himself back in his chair,—
"Don Antonio, are you fond of money?"
"Eh?" the other remarked.
"I beg your pardon. I should have said gold: I will therefore modify my question. Are you fond of gold?"
"Really, sir——"
"Answer clearly, without any hesitation, as a caballero should do. I suppose that I am not talking Hebrew; so reply, yes or no."
"But——"
"Capa de Dios! if you go on in that way we shall never finish, master, caray. You are too sharp a greyhound, not to have recognised at the first glance with whom you have to deal. Answer clearly, then, without further tergiversation."
"Well, then, yes," Antonio answered, subjugated involuntarily by the man's accent.
"Very good. Do you love it much?"
"Well, tolerably."
"That is not enough."
"Very much, then, if you absolutely insist."
"I beg your pardon. It is a matter of indifference to me. It is not I who am in question, but only yourself."
"Well, well, I understand you."
"That is lucky; but you took your time to do so."
"Come, what is the business?"
"Ah, ah! You are coming to the point."
Don Antonio smiled.
"Well, I am only doing what you wish."
"That is true; so we shall not dispute about that."
"Go on; I am listening."
"You received my letter, as you allowed. Now, do you know why I arranged this meeting?"
"I am waiting to hear it from your lips."
"I will tell you at once. You are aware that a society has been formed at Mexico, called the Atravida?"
"I have heard it mentioned."
"Of course, as you are a partner in it."
"That is possible; but the question is not about that, I presume?"
"Perhaps it is. Well, this company, established under the auspices of the first Mexican capitalists, supported by the government, is intended to work the rich mines of the Plancha de Plata, situated in the heart of Apacheria."
"I am aware of it."
"Very good. You see we shall soon understand each other."
"I doubt it."
"I hope so. This company, composed of Frenchmen, all resolute men, organised as soldiers, and under the command of a skilful chief——"
"Count Don Louis de Prébois——"
"I know him. Spare your praise of him. This company, supported by high influences, must not, however, reach the mines."
"Ah, ah! And what will prevent it, if you please?"
"Yourself first of all."
"Oh, oh! I do not believe it."
"Nonsense! You shall see. Let me finish first."
"Go on."
"How much do you think this affair will bring you in?"
"I cannot tell you."
"What, not even approximatively?"
"It is very difficult to calculate, for the mines are rich."
"Yes, but they are remote. Come, mention a figure."
"It is impossible."
"Nonsense! Even supposing I were to help you——?"
"Ah! If you help me——"
"I thought so."
"But stay," Don Antonio remarked sharply. "What great interest have you, then, in spoiling this affair?"
"I, none; it is you."
"I!" Don Antonio exclaimed in amazement; "that is a little too much."
"You shall see."
"I am most eager to do so."
"So soon as the Atravida company was established, another, under the name of the Conciliadora, was at once set on foot, as always happens, and naturally for the same object."
"Come, the name is a capital one."
"It is. Now you know that competition is the backbone of trade."
Don Antonio bowed in assent; and the colonel continued, with his dry and harsh smile.
"The Conciliadora, although powerfully protected at Mexico, required an active, intelligent, and upright agent in Sonora; and it immediately turned its eyes on you. Indeed, Don Antonio Mendez Pavo, performing the duties of French consul at Guaymas, was the only man capable of serving it efficaciously. As the result of this reasoning, you were put down for 200 paid up shares of 500 piastres each; the coupons of which were intrusted to me to deliver to you. That makes, if I am not mistaken, a very nice little sum, which I shall have the honour of handing to you."
And he felt in the pocket of his uniform; but Don Antonio disdainfully checked him.
"You are strangely mistaken about me, caballero," he said; "when a man has the honour of representing France, he cannot be bribed in so miserable a way."
"Nonsense!" the colonel said, laughing.
"My duty orders me to protect the French company; and whatever may happen, I will do so."
"Magnificently spoken."
"So now," Don Antonio continued with fire, "return to the persons who sent you, and tell them that Don Antonio Pavo is not one of those men who can be induced to forget his duty so easily."
"That is charming, and you really spoke it with proper emphasis."
Don Antonio rose, and with a majestic smile shewed the colonel the door.
"Begone, sir," he said coldly; "or I shall not answer for the consequences of my anger."
The colonel did not stir; he made no change in the carelessly insolent position he had adopted from the outset. Still, when Don Antonio ceased, he threw away his cigarette, and giving the last speaker a glance of most peculiar significance,—
"Have you done?" he answered quietly.
"Caballero!" Don Antonio exclaimed, drawing himself up majestically.
"Permit me, Don Antonio, I have no wish to remain any longer here and waste your precious time. Still, you will allow with me, that every man intrusted with a mission must accomplish it in its entirety; and you are too conversant with business to deny this fact."
"I allow it, sir," Don Antonio answered, suddenly calmed by these words.
"Very good; then, be kind enough to sit down again and listen to me a few moments longer."
"Be brief, sir."
"I only ask for five minutes."
"I grant them."
"You are generous, sir; I will, therefore, profit by your permission. I go on, then. You are inscribed for 200 shares, representing, if I am not mistaken, 100,000 piastres, which I consider a very respectable sum."
"Not a word more on that subject, sir."
"I know," the colonel continued imperturbably, "what you would object; a bird in the hand is worth a vulture in the air."
Don Antonio, troubled by the meaning attached to his words, could find no reply. The colonel continued;
"The chiefs of the company employed the same line of reasoning as yourself, sir. They understood that they must act fairly and above board with a man holding so high as yourself, and so worthy in every respect of their confidence; consequently, they commissioned me to hand you, in addition to the shares——"
"Sir," Señor Pavo essayed again.
"Fifty thousand piastres," the colonel said distinctly.
Don Antonio made a bound of surprise.
"What!" he exclaimed. "What did you say, señor?"
"I mentioned 50,000 piastres."
"Ah, ah!"
"In good bills, payable at sight."
"On what house?"
"Torribio de la Porta and Co."
"An excellent house, sir."
"Is it not?"
"Most assuredly."
"But," the colonel said as he rose, "since you refuse our offers, and my mission is now accomplished, I need only withdraw, after begging to pardon the loss of time I have occasioned you; for you do refuse, I think?"
Don Antonio had turned green; his small grey eyes, obstinately fixed on the papers the colonel toyed with, sparkled like live coals.
"Permit me," he said stammering.
"Eh? Can I be mistaken, señor?"
"I—I—I fancy you are."
"This time, bear in mind, we must understand each other thoroughly, in order to avoid any future misunderstanding, which might entail regret."
"Be at your ease. I believe there will no longer be any misapprehension between us. An affair, as you know, does not always strike a man at the first glance."
"That is true; but now you fully understand it?"
"Perfectly."
"All the better. Now we can have a frank explanation."
"Yes," Don Antonio said, with a mocking accent; "and, to begin, Señor Garrucholo, doff for a moment your borrowed character, for I like to know with whom I am dealing."
El Garrucholo, for the ex-bandit was really hidden under Colonel Francisco Florés, shuddered involuntarily at finding himself thus detected. He cast a viper's glance at the man who had unmasked him, and seized him fiercely by the arm.
"Take care, Don Antonio, there are secrets which kill those who hold them."
"That is possible, my master," the other answered, triumphing in his heart at the effect his revelation had produced. "But as, if I am not mistaken, we are about to complete together a very dirty transaction, I wished to prove to you that, if you held my secret, I had yours; and that it is to your interest to deal fairly by me."
"Threatened persons live a long time," the bandit said with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I do not threaten; I merely take my precautions—that is all. Now, let us converse."
The two men drew their chairs together and commenced a conversation, ear to ear, in so low a voice that no one could have overheard them.
The Mexicans are only children, though terrible children we allow, on whom it is impossible to calculate, no matter in what way. Their deplorable conduct, under all circumstances, since they succeeded in constituting themselves an independent nation, proves that, unless an entire change takes place in their character, no more is to be hoped from them in the future than they have effected in the past.
Curious, fickle, cowardly, rash, distrustful, cruel, and superstitious—such is the Mexican.
Let it not be supposed that we speak thus through a hatred of a people, among whom we lived so long; on the contrary, we love the Mexicans, we pity them, we should like to see them regard seriously their position, as a free nation, and behave as men; but we repeat it, they are terrible, stormy, and obstinate children, from whom no good can be derived, we are honestly afraid.
One of the manias of this people is to attract, by the most handsome promises, fallacious offers, and most friendly demonstrations, those strangers whom they fancy may prove useful in any way. They receive these foreigners with open arms, weep with joy while embracing them, offer them the most tenderly fraternal caresses, and give them more than they ever ventured to ask. Then one fine day, without any reason, motive, or slightest pretext, they change from white to black, begin hating with their whole soul the foreigners they have so greatly petted, insult and betray them, lay snares for them, and eventually ill treat or assassinate them, and that, too, while offering them a hand, and smiling on them.
If we wished to recriminate, how many names could we quote, how many shades would it be easy for us to evoke in support of our statements, without counting the noble and unfortunate De Raousset Boulbon, and the impetuous and generous Lapuillade, victims offered in a cowardly way to that hideous Mexican prejudice—a prejudice which is the basis of the policy of this unlucky people, and which will ruin it—not through a hatred of the foreigner, for that is a noble and national feeling, but through a hatred of Europeans, whom they despair of ever equalling, and to whom, in their ignorance and carelessness, they feel a mortal jealousy and envy.
It is evident that during the ten years' struggle Mexico had to sustain against Spain, the former country produced grand and noble characters; but it seems that, exhausted by that gigantic effort, it was incapable of casting others like them into the crucible, for since the first hour of its liberty to the present day, it has not produced a single man worthy of walking, even at a distance, in the footsteps of the illustrious founders of its independence.
This is very sad to say; and yet, if we passed it over in silence, we might be reproached for not stating the truth, and for recoiling from the task we imposed on ourselves in writing this story, in which we have merely changed the names through a feeling that will be appreciated.
The arrival of the French company, however, was anxiously expected at Guaymas. The most absurd and contradictory reports were spread about it, its chief, and the object of the expedition; and as is generally the rule, the most absurd rumours obtained the greatest and firmest credence. Even before the arrival of the French, malevolence was watching in the shade, and seeking darkly to arouse the ill will of the population against the new arrivals.
What Colonel Florés stated in his conversation with Don Antonio Pavo was perfectly correct. Hardly had the organisation of the Atravida company been completed in San Francisco, ere two American houses, perfectly comprehending the advantages of this enterprise in which they were not allowed to join, for reasons we will be silent about for their credit, treacherously established a rival company, intended to impede the operations of the elder company by all means, even the most dishonest.
Hatred never slumbers. The affair went on rapidly, so rapidly that the second company had all its batteries prepared for effective action before the French had quitted San Francisco. This operation was managed with such Machiavellism, and the secret was so well kept, that the count, in spite of his extensive relations, suspected nothing, and embarked for Sonora with his heart full of hope and illusions.
Valentine was awaiting his friend with the most lively impatience. The hunter had conscientiously fulfilled the commissions the count gave him; and all had, apparently, succeeded famously. A comfortable barrack was prepared for the company: the French agent had been most honeyed, and placed himself at the hunter's disposal to do all he might desire with the most charming affability. Still the latter was not satisfied. With no plausible reason, with nothing arising to contradict these offers of friendship, Valentine, by one of those forebodings which Heaven sends to those it loves and wishes to protect, felt that all this amenity concealed a snare; the lips smiled, it is true, but the eyebrows frowned, and the brow was wrinkled.
General Guerrero, while testifying his delight at the arrival of the company, and placing himself at the orders of the hunter, had continued under various pretexts to reside at Hermosillo, instead of coming to Guaymas to welcome the company, as he should have done; in the first place as governor of the province, secondly, as member of the company; two reasons more than sufficient to suggest his change of abode.
Valentine, hence, was very restless; and the more so because, while feeling that a storm was collecting, he could not foresee whence it would come. Hence, he remained a greater part of the day by the seashore, watching anxiously every sail that appeared, hoping to see his friend arrive at any moment; for he supposed, with some show of reason, that the presence of the count and his brave comrades would suffice to silence those who sought to injure him: for the majority of the people was not only far from being hostile to the expedition, but seemed well disposed toward it.
Things were in this state one morning, when, according to his custom, Valentine was preparing to proceed to his observatory, as he called the rock on which he passed whole days. All at once, Don Antonio and Colonel Florés rushed into the cuarto where he resided, crying, gesticulating, and repeating, both at once:—
"Here they are, here they are! They are coming!"
"Who?" Valentine asked them, hardly able yet to put faith in such blessed news.
"El conde! El conde!"
"He will be here in an hour at the latest," said Don Antonio.
"Perhaps before," the colonel backed him up. "We are going to meet him."
"And I, too," Valentine exclaimed.
They went out. The news had spread with the rapidity of a powder train. Guaymas took a holiday. Immediately, before any orders were given by the authorities, the houses were hung with flags; for, as it happened, Corpus Christi would be celebrated a few days later, and the banners had been got in readiness.
The inhabitants, dressed in their best clothes, the Hiaqui Indians, of whom a great number let themselves out to private persons as workmen and servants—in a word, everybody, hurried and ran toward the beach, shouting, laughing, singing, and uttering interminable hurrahs. It was really a curious sight,—this crowd, hastening joyously to meet a few Frenchmen, whose good intentions toward them they instinctively guessed.
The authorities of the town followed the popular movement; but it was easy to read that they did not act from their own will, but were carried onward by the current of public opinion.
When Valentine and the two men who had constituted themselves his companions reached the beach, it was already invaded by the whole population. A few cable's lengths from shore the ship that brought the French might be distinctly seen. It advanced majestically, impelled by a strong breeze. It had its top-gallant sails set, and its lower sails clewed up, which allowed a large crowd to be seen on the poop. When the vessel had passed a little beyond Venado Island—the usual anchorage of large ships—it tacked, and sent down top-sails; then the anchor was let go, and the main jib lowered.
Valentine leaped hurriedly into a canoe, and, before Don Antonio and the colonel could follow him, pushed off. Not noticing the signs his companions made him, the hunter proceeded rapidly in the direction of the ship, vigorously aided by the man already in the canoe, and who was no other than Curumilla. In a few minutes they reached the vessel. Louis perceived them from a distance, so that when they came alongside he received them, and helped them aboard. Even before embracing his foster brother, or pressing his hand, Valentine turned and looked searchingly along the beach.
"Good!" he said, "they have not found a boat yet. Come, brother, let us go down into your cabin, I must speak with you without delay."
"Let me, at least, say 'how do you do' to you," Louis remarked, with a smile.
"Come: we have not a moment to lose."
The count looked at the hunter, and saw that his face was grave. He understood at once that he had important news to communicate. He no longer resisted. He gave his orders hurriedly to one of his officers, to prepare everything for the debarkation, and followed his foster brother who was anxiously awaiting him. Louis led him into the modest berth which he had engaged during the passage, and prepared to shut the door.
"No," Valentine said, preventing him, "leave it open, on the contrary; in that way we shall see the persons who come."
"As you please. Speak."
"I have only two words to say to you; but they are two I would advise you to profit by."
"You may be sure of that."
"You have powerful enemies here. Who they are I know not; but they detest you."
"What do you say?"
"A thing of which I am certain."
"But, my dear fellow, whoever those enemies may be, I have nothing to fear from them. My papers are all regular, my grant is clearly and carefully registered. I have not only the authorisation, but also the support of the government. I only act by formal orders, and, therefore, fear nothing."
"Brother," Valentine answered sententiously, "when you have to deal with Mexicans, you must always apprehend treachery. I have known them many a long year, and unfortunately know also what dependence is to be placed in them."
"You startle me."
"No, I warn you, that is all. It is your duty to be constantly on your guard."
"Do you know that, before Heaven, I am responsible for the lives of all these brave fellows intrusted to me?"
"That is why I advise you to be prudent, and not to trust in any one. There are two men above all whom I recommend you to distrust."
"Their names?"
"Don Antonio Pavo, and Colonel Don Francisco Florés."
Louis could hardly refrain from a start of surprise, as he looked his brother in the face.
"It is not possible," he exclaimed; "you must be mistaken."
"Why so?"
"Because these two men, one of whom is agent to the French government here, and the other the delegate of the Atravida, are both shareholders in the company. I am specially recommended to them, and have letters for both."
"As you please; but I assure you these men are betraying you."
"Have you any proof?"
"None."
"How do you know it, then?"
"I do not know it, and yet I am sure of it. Believe me, brother; for you are aware that I am rarely mistaken."
Louis shook his head sadly.
"All this is strange," he said.
At this moment a man leaned over the companion, and uttered the one word, "Spies!" in a low voice, yet sufficiently loud to be heard by the two men.
"Halloh!" Louis exclaimed with a start.
"It is nothing," Valentine observed; "only Curumilla warning us that our two men are coming. Let us return to the deck, for they must not fancy we have any doubts of them. Examine the two men carefully, when you find yourself in their presence; and I am certain you will come over to my opinion afterwards."
Louis made no reply. They went on deck, and Valentine left him.
"I am returning to land," he said; "you will see me again on the beach."
The hunter leaped into the canoe, which Curumilla had allowed to fall behind the vessel, so that it might not be noticed; and he pushed off for land at the very moment the colonel and Don Antonio set foot on deck.
No people is possessed, to so eminent a degree as the Mexican, of the most refined politeness and most graceful gallantry. By their feline and gentle manners they can seduce and charm persons they have an interest in cheating, whenever they please. Unfortunately, in spite of all the efforts they made, and the cajolery they employed to convince Don Louis of their sincerity and profound attachment to him, Don Antonio and the colonel had physiognomies which so clearly revealed the disgraceful passions that moved them, that all their labour was thrown away.
As Valentine had warned him, on the approach of these two men the count had involuntarily experienced a feeling of repulsion, so strong, that he was compelled to make an effort over himself, to prevent them seeing the effect they produced upon him. The count, however, thought it advisable to pretend to be their dupe, in order to profit by the faults their fancied security might induce them to commit, and derive from them all the information he might need at a future date.
He therefore responded to their advances and offers of service with such frankness and cordiality, that he succeeded in completely duping the crafty scoundrels who fancied him their dupe.
The count had scarce arrived in Sonora, he had not yet set foot on land, ere he had to commence his diplomatic apprenticeship, and contend in craft and falsehood with people, from whom he should have expected the frankest friendship and most absolute devotion—a rude task for a character so loyal and thoroughly honest as that of the count; but the success of the expedition depended on his finesse, and the skill with which he eluded the snares which would be incessantly spread beneath his feet. He understood this, and made up his mind to his course of action, though it was against the grain.
After conversing for some time with the two men, the count, seeing that all was in readiness for the landing, gave orders for it. Immediately the adventurers took their stations with admirable order in the boats brought from the port to receive them. The small flotilla advanced steadily toward the beach, amid the shouts of the crowd assembled on the shore, and the clangor of all the town bells, rung as a symbol of rejoicing.