The Insurgent Chief

"Well and good – what is it?"

"Oh! Mon Dieu! a very simple affair. Leave these ladies, I beg you, in ignorance of their deliverance; you know that joy, like grief is to be feared when it comes suddenly without any preparation. I am afraid of the revulsion that the announcement of this sudden departure will cause these ladies, as they are so far from expecting it."

"What you ask me is very easy of course; however, I must tell them tomorrow, or this evening."

"Don't worry about that; it's easily managed. Tell them that they must be ready to mount horse tomorrow at sunrise, without telling them of the cause or the destination of the journey. I shall be careful to keep out of their sight till I find an opportunity of presenting myself to them without too much exciting them."

The Pincheyra, a man naturally very unsentimental, did not appreciate what the Montonero said to him. But, by reason of that species of innate vanity in all men, which leads them to attribute qualities to themselves which they do not possess – attracted, moreover, towards his own acquaintance by an inexplicable sympathy – he made no difficulty in agreeing to what Don Zeno Cabral asked him, and consented to let him act quite in his own way, inwardly flattered by the good opinion that the latter appeared to have of him, and anxious to prove to him that he was not deceived in him.

Matters thus arranged, Don Pablo requested – without entering into any details – his brother, Don Antonio, to inform the ladies of their approaching departure, and, going out with Don Zeno, he took him to visit the camp of Casa-Frama.

José Antonio, the third brother of Pincheyra, was a man of about twenty, of a melancholy disposition and limited intelligence, who accepted with bad grace the commission which had been given him; but he proceeded to acquit himself of it as quickly as possible.

He went, therefore, to the toldo inhabited by the two ladies.

They were alone, talking to each other, when the Pincheyra presented himself.

At sight of him they could not repress a movement of surprise – almost of fright, but they immediately recovered themselves, and returned the abrupt salute which he had given them without speaking to them, which led the marchioness to ask what was the reason of his visit.

"Señora," he replied, "my brother the colonel, Don Pablo Pincheyra, has requested me to give you notice to be ready to leave the camp tomorrow at sunrise."

"I thank you for this good news, caballero," coldly answered the marchioness.

"I do not know if the news is good or bad, and it's all one to me. I am ordered to tell you, and I do it – that is all. Now that my commission is done, adieu – I withdraw."

And, without further remark, he made a move to go away.

"Pardon, caballero," said the marchioness to him making an effort to continue the conversation, in the hope of seeing a favourable light burst upon the chaos which surrounded her; "one word, if you please."

"One word let it be," answered he, stopping, "but no more."

"Do you know why we are to quit the camp?"

"Upon my word, no; what is it to me whether you leave or not?"

"That is true – it must be quite indifferent to you; but you are, I believe, one of your brother's principal officers?"

"I am a captain," he answered, holding himself up proudly.

"In that capacity you must be in the confidence of your brother's projects, so as to know what are his intentions."

"I! What for? My brother does not render account to me, and I do not ask any."

The marchioness bit her lips with vexation; but she continued, abruptly changing the conversation —

"If I am so soon to leave the camp, permit me, caballero, to offer you, before leaving, this slight mark of remembrance;" and taking from her breast a delicate reliquary in gold, curiously chased, she presented it to him with a gracious smile.

The eye of the bandit flashed with covetousness.

"Ah!" said he, holding out his hand, "What is that?"

"This medallion," replied the marchioness, "contains relics."

"Relics!" he exclaimed; "Real?"

"Certainly, it contains a splinter of the true cross, and a tooth of Santa Rosa de Lima."

"Ah! And they are of use, are they not? Father Gomez, my brother's chaplain, says that the relics of saints are the best arms that a Christian can carry with him."

"He is right; these are infallible against wounds and sickness."

The bandit's eye dilated; an indescribable expression of joy overspread his countenance.

"And you will give them to me?" he quickly exclaimed.

"I give them to you, but on one condition."

"Without condition!" he resumed, knitting his eyebrows, and casting a sinister look at the marchioness.

The only active sentiment in the heart of this man – his superstition – had been aroused. Perhaps to seize these relics that he coveted he would not have recoiled from a crime.

The marchioness immediately perceived the thought, indistinct as it was, that agitated his obtuse mind. She exhibited no emotion, and continued:

"These relics would immediately lose their virtue if they were taken by violence from the person who possesses them."

"Ah!" murmured he, with a sullen and husky voice, "They must be freely given?"

"They must," coldly answered the marchioness.

Doña Eva had felt a shudder of fear run through her limbs at the concealed threat of the bandit; but his exclamation reassured her; she saw that the wild beast was tamed.

"What is this condition?" pursued he.

"I wish to know if some strangers arrived in the camp yesterday."

"They arrived this morning."

"Spaniards?"

"Yes."

"Was there a Portuguese among them?"

"I believe there was one."

"Are you sure of it?"

"Yes, it is he who is to take you away; he offers a large ransom for you. I remember, because my brother has refused the ransom while consenting to part with you – which I cannot at all understand on his part."