The Adventurers

The two Frenchmen had anxiously watched the spectacle of this infamous drama; Louis was disgusted with the rascality of the machi and the credulity of the Indians.

"Oh!" he said, to his friend, "we cannot allow this murder to be accomplished."

"Hum!" muttered Valentine, stroking the ends of his light moustache, and casting a glance around him, "hum! there is a great number of them."

"What matters it how many?" Louis replied, impetuously; "I will not be the witness of such iniquity, if I die for it. I will attempt to save the life of that unfortunate man, who so frankly offered us his friendship."

"The fact is," Valentine said, pensively, "this Trangoil-Lanec, as they call him, is a very worthy fellow, for whom I feel a warm sympathy; but what can we do?"

"Pardieu!" Louis said, seizing his pistols, "throw ourselves between him and his enemies; we can each of us kill five or six."

"Yes, and the others will kill us, without our having succeeded in saving the man for whom we devote ourselves. A bad means that! Let us try to find some other."

"We must be quick, then; the torture is about to commence."

Valentine struck his forehead, and cried, with a jeering laugh —

"Bah! I have it! Trick must serve our turn – leave it to me; my old trade of a mountebank will do! Help me, if I want it; but, for heaven's sake, swear to remain calm!"

"I swear I will, if you save him."

"Be satisfied – against rogue I'll play rogue and a half; these savages shall see I can be more cunning than they."

Valentine urged his horse into the middle of the circle, and shouted —

"Stop a minute!"

At the unexpected appearance of this man, whom nobody had yet observed, all turned round and looked at him with astonishment. Louis, with his hands on his pistols, watched his movements with anxiety, ready to fly to his succour, if he needed it.

"We will not joke," continued Valentine, "we have not time for that. You are a set of fools, and your machi is laughing at you. What! would you kill a man without a moment's reflection, because a rogue bids you do so? Caramba! I have taken it into my head to prevent your committing such a folly – I will do it, too!"

And placing his hand upon his hip, he looked round with an intrepid glance. The Indians, according to their strange custom, listened to this speech without evincing surprise, even by a gesture. Curumilla approached him.

"My pale brother must retire," he said, calmly; "he is unacquainted with the laws of the Puelches; this man is condemned, he must die; the machi has pointed him out as a murderer."

"I repeat to you, you are fools!" said Valentine shrugging his shoulders; "your machi is no more a conjurer than I am; I again tell you, he is cheating you, and I will prove it, if you will let me."

"What says my father?" said Curumilla to the machi, who stood cold and motionless by the side of the body.

The machi smiled disdainfully.

"When did the white man ever speak truth?" he replied, with a sneer. "Let this one prove what he asserts, if he is able."

"Good!" the Ulmen said; "the Murucho may speak."

"Pardieu!" cried Valentine. "Notwithstanding the bold-faced assurance of this individual, I shall find it no difficult matter to prove that he is an impostor."

"We are attentive," said Curumilla.

The Indians drew round with intense curiosity. Louis could not at all make out what his friend proposed to do. He could only suppose that some extravagant idea had crossed his brain, and was as impatient as the rest to see how he would come through his dangerous undertaking with honour.

"One moment!" said the machi, with perfect assurance. "What will my brothers do if I prove my accusation true?"

"The stranger must die," said Curumilla, coolly.

"I accept the terms," Valentine replied, resolutely. Placed thus in the necessity of explaining himself, the Frenchman drew himself up to his full height, and, knitting his brows, exclaimed pompously —

"I, too, am a great medicine man!"

The Indians bowed reverentially. The science of Europeans is perfectly established among them; they respect without disputing it.

"It was not Trangoil-Lanec," continued the Frenchman, with the greatest audacity, "who killed the chief; it was the machi himself."

A start of astonishment pervaded the assembly.

"I!" cried the machi, in a voice of amazement.

"You, yourself, and you know it well," replied Valentine, giving him a look that made him tremble.

"Stranger," said Trangoil-Lanec, with the majesty of a martyr, "it is no use to interpose in my favour; my brothers believe me guilty, and innocent though I am, I must die."

"Your devotion to your laws is noble, but in this case it is absurd," Valentine replied.

"This man is guilty," the machi persisted.

"Let us put an end to this, then," replied Trangoil-Lanec; "kill me!"

"What say my brothers?" Curumilla asked of the crowd, who pressed anxiously around him.

"That the Murucho medicine-man be allowed to prove the truth of his words," replied the warriors with one voice.

They loved Trangoil-Lanec, and in their hearts desired that he should not die. On the other hand, they entertained for the machi a hatred which the profound terror he inspired them with scarcely sufficed to make them conceal.

"Very well," said Valentine, "this is what I propose."

All were silent as the grave. The Frenchman drew his sword, and waved the bright blade before the eyes of the spectators.

"You see this weapon," said he, in a pompous tone; "I will put it into my mouth, and swallow it up to the hilt. If Trangoil-Lanec is guilty, I shall die; if he is innocent, as I affirm, Pillian will help me, and I shall draw forth the sword from my body without suffering a wound."

"My brother speaks like a courageous warrior," said Curumilla; "we are ready to behold."

"I will not suffer it!" Trangoil-Lanec shouted. "Does my brother want to kill himself?"

"Pillian is judge!" Valentine replied, with a smile of strange expression, and with an air of conviction admirably well played.

The two Frenchmen exchanged a glance. The Indians are perfect children in their love of spectacle, and the extraordinary proposal of the Parisian seemed to them to admit of no reply.

"The trial! the trial!" they shouted.

"Very well," said Valentine; "let my brothers behold, then."

He first placed himself in the proper position adopted by jugglers when they exhibit this feat in public places; then introducing the blade of the sword into his mouth, in a few seconds the whole of it disappeared. During the performance of this trick, which in their eyes was a miracle, the Puelches watched the bold Frenchman in breathless terror. They could not comprehend how a man could perform such an operation without deliberately killing himself. Valentine turned on all sides, so that everyone might be convinced of the reality of the fact; then he deliberately withdrew the blade from his mouth, as bright as when it came from the sheath. A cry of enthusiasm burst from the crowd: the miracle was evident.

"One minute more," he said; "I have still something to demand of you."

Silence was in an instant re-established.

"I have proved to you, in an incontrovertible manner, that the chief is not guilty – have I not?"

"Yes! yes!" they shouted simultaneously; "the paleface is a great medicine man! he is beloved by Pillian!"

"Very well. Now, then," he added, with a sardonic smile directed towards the machi, "your machi should prove in his turn that I have calumniated him, and that it was not he who killed the Apo-Ulmen of your tribe. The dead chief was a great warrior; it ought to be avenged."

"Yes," the warriors cried, "he ought to be avenged."

"My brother speaks well," observed Curumilla; "let the machi be put to the proof."

The unfortunate machi perceived at once that he was lost. He became livid, and a cold perspiration bathed his temples, whilst a convulsive tremor shook his limbs.

"This man is an impostor," he muttered, in a voice scarcely audible; "he abuses your good faith."

"Perhaps I am," said Valentine; "but, in the meantime, imitate me."

"Here," said Curumilla, holding out the sword to the machi, "if you are innocent, Pillian will protect you, as he has protected my brother."

"Caramba! that is certain; Pillian always protects the innocent, and you are about to be a proof of it," said the Parisian, in whom the revived spirit of the gamin was now triumphant.

The machi cast around a look of despair; all eyes were expressive of impatience and curiosity; the unhappy wretch perceived but too plainly that he could look for help to nobody, and he formed his resolution instantly – he determined to die as he had lived, deceiving the crowd to the last minute.

"I fear nothing," he said, in a firm voice; "this steel will be harmless to me. You desire that I should go through the trial – I will obey. But, beware! Pillian is angry with your conduct towards me; the humiliation you impose upon me will be avenged by the terrible scourges which he will inflict upon you."

At these words of their prophet the Puelches were moved. They hesitated. For many long years they had been accustomed to place entire faith in his predictions, and they experienced a kind of fear in thus daring to accuse him of imposture. Valentine saw at a glance what was passing in their hearts.

"Capitally well played," he said, replying by a knowing wink to the triumphant smile of the machi; "now it is my turn. Let my brothers take heart!" he added, in a loud, firm voice. "No misfortune threatens them; this man speaks thus because he is afraid to die; he knows he is guilty, and that Pillian will not protect him."

The machi darted a glance at him gleaming with hatred, seized the sword, and, imitating as well as he knew how what he had seen, with desperate quickness plunged the blade down his throat. A stream of black blood sprang from his mouth, his eyes glared hideously, his arms shook convulsively, he staggered two steps forward, and fell flat upon his face. The people crowded round him – he was dead.

"Let this lying dog be thrown to the vultures," said Curumilla, kicking the lifeless body with contempt.

"We are brothers for life and death," cried Trangoil-Lanec, embracing Valentine.

"Well," the young man said with a smile, to his friend, "I think I have not got very badly through that affair – eh? You see, it is well, sometimes, to have practised many trades; even that of a mountebank may serve at need."

"Do not calumniate your heart and courage," Louis replied, warmly pressing his hand; "you have; saved the life of a man."

"Aye; but I have killed another."

"Oh, he was a guilty wretch!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE OBSEQUIES OF AN APO-ULMEN

The emotion caused by the death of the machi gradually died away, and order was re-established. Curumilla and Trangoil-Lanec, abjuring any feeling of enmity, exchanged a fraternal embrace, amidst the frantic applause of the warriors, who loved both the chiefs.

"Now my father is avenged, we can restore his body to the earth," Curumilla observed. Then, advancing towards the strangers, he bowed to them, saying —

"Will the palefaces assist at the obsequies?"

"We will," Louis replied.

"My toldo is large," the chief continued; "my brothers will do me honour by consenting to inhabit it during their sojourn with the tribe."

Louis was about to reply, but Trangoil-Lanec hastily prevented him.

"My brothers the palefaces," he said, "have deigned to accept my poor hospitality."

The young men bowed in silence.

"Good!" the Ulmen continued. "Of what consequence is that? Whichever be the toldo the Muruches may choose, I shall consider them as my guests."

"Many thanks, chief," Valentine replied; "be assured that we are grateful for your kindness."

The Ulmen then took leave of the Frenchmen, and resumed his place by the side of his father's corpse, and the ceremonies commenced. The Araucanos are not, as some travellers have led us to believe, a people destitute of any faith; on the contrary, their faith is warm, and their religion rests upon bases which are not deficient in grandeur. They have no dogma, and yet they recognize two principles – that of good and that of evil.

The first, named Pillian, is the Creating God; the second, named Guécubu, is the Destroying God. Guécubu is in a state of continual struggle with Pillian, endeavouring to disturb the harmony of the world, and destroy what exists; by which we see that the doctrine of Manicheism was embraced by the barbarians of both the old and the new world, who, being unable to penetrate the causes of good and evil, have imagined two contrary principles. In addition to these two principal deities, the Araucanos recognize a considerable number of secondary genii, who assist Pillian in his contest with Guécubu. These genii are males and females; the latter are all virgins, for – and it is a refined idea which we could not expect in a barbarous people – procreation is not necessary in the supernatural world. The male gods are named Géru, or lords; the females, Amey-Malghen, or spiritual nymphs.

The Araucanos believe in the immortality of the soul, and, consequently, in a future life, in which the warriors who have distinguished themselves on earth hunt in game-abounding prairies, surrounded by everything they have loved. Like all American aborigines, the Araucanos are extremely superstitious. Their worship consists in assembling in the medicine toldo, where there is a shapeless idol, said to represent Pillian. They weep; they utter loud cries, with numberless contortions; and sacrifice to him a sheep, a cow, a horse, or a chilihuegue.

At a signal from Curumilla, the warriors drew back to give place to the women, who surrounded the body, and began to walk in a circle, singing in a low and plaintive tone the noble feats of the deceased. At the expiration of about an hour, the cortege moved off after the corpse, which was borne by the four most renowned warriors of the tribe, and directed its course towards a hill where the place of sepulture was prepared. Behind followed the women, casting handfuls of hot ashes over the traces left by the passage of the funeral train; so that if the soul of the defunct should have any inclination to return to its body, it would not be able to find the way to his toldo, or come and trouble his heirs.

When the body was laid in the grave, Curumilla cut the throats of his father's dogs and horses, which were placed near him, to enable him to hunt in the happy prairies. Within reach of his hand was placed a certain quantity of provisions for the nourishment of himself and the tempulazzy, or boatman, appointed to convey him to the other country, and into the presence of Pillian, where he is to be judged according to his good or evil actions. Earth was then thrown in upon the body. But, as the defunct had been a renowned warrior, a heap of stones was collected, of which a pyramid was formed; then everyone walked slowly once more round the tomb, pouring upon it a great quantity of chica. The relations and friends returned dancing and singing to the village, where awaited them one of those Homeric repasts of Araucanian funerals called cahuins, which last till all the partakers lie upon the ground utterly intoxicated.

Beyond a little natural curiosity, our travellers did not take much interest in the ceremony or feast; they were fatigued, and preferred a short repose. Trangoil-Lanec guessed their thoughts; and, as soon as the procession returned, he left his companions, and offered to conduct the young men to his dwelling. They availed themselves of his kindness with alacrity. Like all Araucanian huts, this was a vast wooden building, covered with whitewashed mud, in the form of a rectangle, the roof being a terrace. This simple, airy residence displayed, in its interior, a perfect Dutch cleanliness.

Trangoil-Lanec, as we have said, was one of the richest and most respected chiefs of his tribe, and had eight wives. Polygamy is allowed among the Moluches. When an Indian is desirous of marrying a woman, he declares his purpose to her parent, and fixes the number of animals he is willing to give. His conditions being accepted, he comes with a few friends, carries off the young woman, throws her on the saddle behind him, and gallops off to the woods, in the depths of which the couple remain three days. On the fourth they return; he slaughters a young mare in front of the hut of the father of his bride, and the marriage festivities begin. The abduction of the bride, and the sacrifice of the mare, take the place of a civil contract. After this fashion an Araucano is at liberty to marry as many wives as he can support. And yet, the first wife, who bears the title of unem domo, or legitimate wife, is most honoured; she has the direction of the household, and is the superior of the others, who are called inam domo, or secondary wives. All inhabit the same toldo, but in different apartments, where they employ themselves in bringing up their children, in weaving ponchos with the wool of guanacos and chilihuegues, and in preparing the dish which an Indian woman is bound to place every day on the table of her husband. Marriage is held sacred, and adultery is considered the greatest of crimes; the man and woman who should commit it would inevitably be assassinated by the husband and his relations, unless they redeemed their lives by means of a compensation imposed by the injured husband. When an Araucano leaves his home, he confides his wives to his relations, and, on his return, if he can prove that they have been unfaithful to him, he has the right of demanding of the guardians all he thinks proper to ask; so that the relations are interested in watching them. This strictness of morals only regards married women; others enjoy the greatest liberty, and take advantage of it without any person presuming to find fault with them.

The two Frenchmen, thrown so suddenly into the midst of these strange manners and customs, were some time before they could comprehend Indian life. Valentine, in particular, was completely at a loss; he was in a state of perpetual astonishment, which, however, he took good care should not appear in his words or in his actions; for the adventure of the machi had raised him so high in the estimation of the inhabitants of the toldero, that he dreaded, with reason, lest the smallest indiscretion should cast him down from the pedestal upon which he maintained his erect position.

One evening, when Louis was preparing, as he frequently did, to visit the various toldos, in order to inquire after the sick, and administer to them all the relief his limited knowledge of medicine permitted, Curumilla came to the two strangers to invite them to be present at the cahuin given by the new machi, who had been elected that day, in place of the dead one. Valentine promised that they would come. From what we have said before, it may easily be comprehended what an enormous influence a sorcerer possesses over the members of the tribe; the choice is therefore difficult to make, and is seldom a good one. The sorcerer is generally a woman: when it is a man, he assumes the female costume, which he wears for the rest of his life. In almost all cases the science is inherited.

After smoking a considerable number of pipes, and making endless speeches, the Araucanos had chosen, as a successor to the machi, an old man, of a mild, kindly character, who, during the course of his long existence, had only made friends. The repast was, as may be supposed, copious, abundantly furnished with ulpo, the national dish of the Araucans, and moistened with an incalculable number of couis of chica. Among the other delicacies which figured at the feast was a large basket filled with hard eggs, which the Ulmens swallowed in emulation of each other.

"Why don't you eat some eggs?" said Curumilla to Valentine. "Do you not like them?"

"On the contrary, chief, I am very fond of eggs, but not cooked in that fashion; I have no inclination to choke myself, thank you."

"Oh! yes," the Ulmen said; "I understand; you prefer them raw."

Valentine burst into a Homeric fit of laughter.

"Not better than these," he said, when he had recovered his gravity; "I like eggs boiled in the shell; I like omelettes, or pancakes, but neither hard nor raw, if you please."

"What do you mean by that? Cooked eggs must be hard."

The young man looked at him with astonishment, and then said to him in a tone of profound compassion —

"Now, really, chief, do you mean to say you are only acquainted with hard eggs?"

"Our fathers have always eaten them thus," the Ulmen replied, quietly.

"Poor people! how I pity them! They have been ignorant of one of the greatest enjoyments of life. Well, my friend," he exclaimed, raising his voice with jocular enthusiasm, "I am determined you shall adore me as a benefactor to humanity! In short, I will endow you with soft-boiled eggs, and with omelettes; at least, the remembrance of me shall not die from among you. When I am gone, and you eat one of those two dishes, you will think of me."

In spite of his sadness, Louis could not help laughing at the burlesque humour and inexhaustible cheerfulness of his foster brother, in whom, at every minute, the gamin prevailed over the serious man. The chiefs welcomed with joy the offer of the spahi, and asked, with loud cries, on what day he would carry his promise into execution.

"Oh, I will not make you wait long," he said; "tomorrow, on the square of the toldería, and before all the assembled tribe of the Great Hare, I will show you how you must set about boiling an egg, and making an omelette."

At this promise, the satisfaction of the chiefs mounted to the highest pitch, the couis of the chica circulated with increased vivacity, and the Ulmens soon found themselves sufficiently intoxicated to begin to sing as loud as they could shout, and all together, – a sort of music that produced such an effect upon the two Frenchmen, that they made their escape, stopping their ears. The feast was kept up long after their departure.

CHAPTER XXII

EXPLANATIONS

We will now return to the chacra of Don Gregorio Peralta, to which Doña Rosario had been conducted after her miraculous deliverance. The first days that followed the departure of the two Frenchmen were sufficiently devoid of incident: Doña Rosario, shut up in her bedroom, remained almost continually alone. The poor girl, like all wounded spirits, sought to forget reality, by taking refuge in dreams, in order to collect and preserve piously in the depths of her heart the few happy remembrances which had so rarely gilded with a ray of sunshine the sadness of her existence. Don Tadeo, completely absorbed in his imperative political combinations, could only see her now and then, and but for a few minutes at a time. Before him, she endeavoured to appear cheerful, but she suffered the more from being obliged to conceal in her own bosom the sorrow which consumed her. She occasionally crept down into the garden; she stopped under the arbour in which her meeting with Louis had taken place, and remained hours together thinking of him she loved, and whom she had driven from her for ever.

This poor child, so beautiful, so mild, so pure, so worthy of being loved, was condemned by an implacable destiny continually to lead a life of suffering and isolation; without a relation, without a friend to whom she might impart the secret of her grief. She was little more than sixteen, and already her bruised heart shrank back upon itself; her colour faded, her step became languid, her large blue eyes, swimming in tears, were incessantly raised towards heaven, as the only refuge that remained for her; she appeared to hold to the earth only by a slight thread, which the least fresh shock of adversity would snap.

The maiden's story was a strange one. She had never known her parents; she had no remembrance of the kisses of her mother – those warm caresses of childhood, which make even mature age tremble with joy. From her earliest days, she could only remember being alone, always alone, in the hands of the mercenary and indifferent. The innocent joys of childhood remained unknown to her; she had known nothing of them but their weariness and sadness, and had ever been deprived of those friendships of early youth which, by insensibly preparing the mind for affectionate expansion, give birth to smiles in the midst of tears, and console with a kiss.