Stronghand: or, The Noble Revenge

The Marquis stopped for a moment, overcome by the emotion which contracted his throat.

"Father," Don Ruiz replied, "you have ever been the best of parents to my sister and myself. Be assured that we have anxiously awaited this confidence, which has been so long delayed in the fear of causing us a temporary sorrow; for we hoped we might be able to assume a portion of the burden, and thus restore you the courage necessary to support the gigantic struggle in which you have engaged with adverse fortune."

"My son," the Marquis said, "I know your heart and your sister's. I am aware of the respectful affection you feel for me; and in the misfortune that is now bursting on me, it is a great satisfaction to have the intimate conviction that my children will heartily combine in supporting and consoling me."

"Be kind enough then, father, to tell us what the matter is, without further delay. The courier with whom you were shut up so long this morning cannot be a stranger to the determination you have formed. Doubtless he was the bearer of evil tidings?"

"Alas! My son," the Marquis answered, "for some years past fortune has been treating our house with incomprehensible severity; everything is leagued against us, and our fortune, which was immense under the Spanish rule, has constantly diminished since the proclamation of Mexican independence. In vain have I tried to contend against the torrent which carried us away; in vain have I forgotten all I owe to my name and rank, and attempted to regain what I had lost by honourable enterprise. All has been of no avail, and my efforts have only served to prove the inutility of my attempts. Still, I had hoped a few days back that I should be able to render fortune more favourable to me. I foresaw a chance of saving some fragments of our old fortunes; but today I have attained the melancholy conviction that I am entirely ruined unless a miracle intervene."

"Oh, things cannot be so bad as that, father!" Doña Marianna exclaimed.

"Yes, my children, we are ruined – reduced to utter misery," the Marquis continued sadly. "We have lost everything; even this hacienda, built by one of our ancestors, which will be speedily sold – perhaps tomorrow – for the benefit of our creditors."

"But how has such a great misfortune occurred?"

"Alas! in the same way as misfortunes always happen when fate has resolved on ruining a man. For a long time past business has been in a state of collapse, owing to the disastrous negligence of the Government; and the news of the fresh revolt of the Indian mansos and bravos has raised the alarm of the merchants to the highest pitch. The panic is general among the bankers and persons whose capital is engaged in mines; several houses at Hermosillo, Ures, Arispe, Sonora, and even Mexico, have already suspended payment, and thus everything has been paralyzed at a single blow. Then, to complicate matters even more, a pronunciamiento has taken place in Mexico, and at this moment we have not only an Indian border war, but the interior of the country is suffering from all the horrors of a civil war."

"Do you know this officially, father?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot entertain the slightest doubt on the subject. For this reason; under such circumstances as the present, one thing inevitably happens. Creditors insist on the immediate repayment of their advances, while persons indebted to you, if they do not fail, defer payment so long that it is practically of no service. Now, the letters I received this morning, and they are numerous, may be divided into two classes; my debtors refuse to pay me, while my creditors, fearing a loss, have taken out writs against me, so that if I have not paid them within eight days the round sum of 380,000 piastres, I shall be declared bankrupt, imprisoned, expelled from my estate, and this hacienda, the last thing left us, will be put up to auction, and probably purchased for a trifle by one of the ex-vassals of our family, who has grown rich at our expense, and does not blush to take our place."

"Three hundred and eighty thousand piastres!" Don Ruiz muttered with stupor.

"That is the amount."

"How can we possibly get it together?"

"It is useless to dream of it for the present, my son. This hacienda alone is worth double. At other times I could have offered a mortgage, and as I have nearly 300,000 piastres owing to me, you see that I could have easily confronted this fresh stroke of fortune. But now it cannot be thought of; it will be better to give way, and allow our creditors to divide the spoil. I hope you do hot suppose, Ruiz, that I have the intention of defrauding my creditors of the little that is left me?"

"Oh no, father; but what do you propose doing?"

"¡Caray!" Paredes then said, "that is easily settled. I possess, through the liberality of the Moguer family a rancho, which owes nothing to anybody. It is yours, mi amo. My mother and I can easily find another shelter. Well, if this wretched lodging is not so fine or handsome as this, it will, at any rate, afford you a shelter, and save you from applying for it to strangers. Is it so, Excellency? Will you honour the old house of your servant by your presence?"

The Marquis seemed to reflect for a moment, and then held out his hand to Paredes, who kissed it.

"Be it so, my friend. I accept your offer," he said. "Not that I intend to inconvenience you for any length of time, but merely during the few days I shall require to save, if possible, some fragments of my children's fortune from the general shipwreck."

"Do not think of us, father," Doña Marianna said, with emotion. "We are young, and will work."

Paredes was delighted at the acceptance of his offer.

"Oh, do not be frightened, mi amo," he said; "the old rancho is not so dilapidated and miserable as might be supposed. I trust, with the help of Heaven, that you will not be very uncomfortable there, and, at any rate, you will have no cause to fear the visits of certain parties."

"You are unjust, Paredes," the Marquis replied. "Don Rufino Contreras, to whom you allude, is one of my best friends, and I must speak of his behaviour in the highest terms of praise."

"That is possible, mi amo, that is possible," the majordomo said, shaking his head with an air of conviction; "but if I may be permitted to express an opinion about that gentleman, I fancy we had better wait a while before fully making up our minds about him."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, mi amo, really nothing. I have an idea, that is all."

"That reminds me, father, that on leaving me, Don Rufino gave me a letter, which he begged me to deliver to you so soon as I reached the hacienda."

"Yes; he informed me of his intention of writing."

"Hum!" the majordomo said, between his teeth, but loudly enough for the Marquis to hear him; "I always had a bad idea of men who prefer blackening paper to explain themselves frankly in words."

During this aside, the Marquis had opened and read the letter.

"This time, at any rate," he said, "Don Rufino cannot be accused of want of frankness, or of not explaining himself clearly. He warns me of the measures taken against me, and after showing me, in a most gentlemanly manner, the precarious nature of my position, he ends by offering me the means of escaping from it in the most honourable way; in one word, he asks for my daughter's hand, and offers her a dowry of one and a half million piastres, besides liquidating my debts."

Doña Marianna was crushed by the blow so suddenly dealt her. The Marquis continued, with the bitter accent he had hitherto employed – "Such is the state we have reached, my children; we, the descendants of a race of worthies noble as the king, and whose escutcheon is unstained, have so fallen from our lofty social position, that we are too greatly honoured by the offer of a man whose grandfather was our vassal. But such is the way of the world, and why blame it when we live in an age in which everything is possible?"

"What answer will you give to this strange letter, father?" Don Ruiz asked, anxiously.

Don Hernando drew himself up proudly.

"My son," he replied, "however poor I may be, I do not the less remain the Marquis de Moguer, the only thing, perhaps, which cannot be taken from me. I know the obligations I owe to the honour of my name. Your sister is free to accept or reject the offer made her. I do not wish, under any pretext, to influence her determination in so serious a matter. She is young, and has still many years to live; I have no right to enchain her existence with that of a man she does not love. She will reflect, and follow the impulse of her own heart. Whatever her resolution may be, I approve of it beforehand."

"Thanks, father," the maiden answered, gently. "And now grant me a last favour."

"What is it, my child?"

"I wish for a week before answering this request, for I am so surprised and confused, that it would be impossible for me to form any resolution at present."

"Very good, my child; in eight days you will give me your answer. And now withdraw: but do you remain, Paredes; before leaving the hacienda for ever, I wish to make some arrangements in which your help will be necessary."

Brother and sister, after bowing respectfully to their father, slowly quitted this fatal chamber, which persons never entered save through a misfortune.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE TIGRERO

Don Ruiz and his sister left the red chamber together, gloomy, sad, and despairing, and not daring to communicate their impressions, because they knew that they had nothing to hope from an exchange of conventional consolation. When they reached the hall whence ran the stairs leading to their different suites of rooms, Don Ruiz let loose his sister's arm, and kissed her on the forehead.

"Courage, Marianna," he said, gently.

"Are you leaving me, brother?" she remarked, with a slight tinge of reproach in her voice.

"Are you not going to your own rooms?" he asked her.

"And what do you intend doing?"

"To tell you the honest truth, sister," he replied, "after what has occurred in the red chamber, I feel in such a state of excitement, that I want to breathe the fresh air; did I not, I fancy I should be ill."

"Do you propose going out, then?"

"In leaving you, my dear sister, it is my firm intention to saddle Santiago, and ride about the country for two or three hours."

"If that be the case, Ruiz, I will ask you to do me a service."

"What is it?"

"Saddle Madrina at the same time."

"Your mare?"

"Yes."

"Are you going out too?"

"I want to pay a visit to my nurse, whom I have not seen for a long time. I am anxious to speak a few words with her."

"Will you go alone to the rancho?"

"Unless you give me the pleasure of your company."

"Do you doubt it, sister?"

"Yes and no, Ruiz."

"Why this reticence?"

"I will explain it to you, brother. To be frank with you, I want to see my nurse, and I may spend the night at the rancho; in the event of that happening, I do not wish you to make an attempt to dissuade me by entreaty or otherwise."

"Reflect, sister, that the country is not tranquil, and that you may incur danger in a wretched rancho, where any resistance would be impossible."

"I have thought of that, and calculated all the chances. But I repeat to you, I must go to the rancho, and may be obliged to pass there not only a night, but a day or two."

Don Ruiz reflected for a moment.

"Sister," he then said, "you are no ordinary woman, and everything you do is carefully calculated. Although you do not tell me the motives for this visit, I guess that they are serious, and hence will make no attempt to thwart your wishes. Act as you please, and I will do all you wish."

"Thank you, Ruiz," she answered, warmly; "I anticipated you would say that, for you understand me: my visit has a serious motive, as you have divined."

"Then I will go and saddle the horses," he remarked, with a smile.

"Do so, brother," she replied, as she gently pressed his hand. "I will wait for you here."

"I only require five minutes."

The young man went out. Doña Marianna leant on the balustrade, and fell into deep thought. Don Ruiz returned, leading the horses by the bridle: brother and sister mounted, and at once left the hacienda. It was about four in the afternoon; the great heat of the day was spent, the birds were singing gaily beneath the foliage; the sun, now level with the lowest branches, had lost much of its heat; and the coming breeze, which was beginning to rise, refreshed the atmosphere, and bore far away the clouds of mosquitoes which had for several hours darkened the air. The young people galloped silently side by side, absorbed in their thoughts, and only taking absent glances at the splendid scenery unfolded around them as they advanced further into the country. They thus reached the rancho without exchanging a word.

Bouchaley, faithful to his friendship for Doña Marianna, had long before announced her arrival to the inhabitants of the rancho, who had hurried out to welcome her. With a hurried glance, Marianna assured herself of the presence of her foster brother, which seemed to cause her great satisfaction.

"Goodness! You here so late, niña?" the ranchero said, in his delight; "What blessed wind has blown you?"

"The desire of seeing you, madresita," the young lady answered, with a smile; "it is so long since I embraced you, that I could not wait any longer."

"It is a good idea, niña," the ranchero said; "unfortunately it is late, and we shall only be able to converse with you for a few moments."

"How do you know, old father?" she replied, as she leaped off her horse, and threw her arms round his neck; "Who told you I should not spend the night at the rancho?"

"Oh, oh, you would not do us that honour, niña," the old man answered.

"You are mistaken, father, and the proof is that I ask my brother to leave me here, and return alone to the hacienda."

"Then I am discharged," Don Ruiz said, laughingly.

"Yes, brother; but you have no cause of complaint, for I warned you."

"That is true; hence I do not complain, little sister; still, before we part, tell me at what hour I am to come and fetch you tomorrow?"

"Do not trouble yourself about that, Ruiz; Mariano will bring me home."

"And this time I shall not behave as the last, niña: may the Lord confound me if I lose sight of you even for a moment," the tigrero said, as he took the horse's bridle to lead it to the corral.

"Will you be so cruel, Marianna," Ruiz observed, "as to force me thus to return at once?"

"No; I grant you an hour to rest and refresh yourself, but when that time has elapsed you will start."

"Agreed, little sister."

They entered the rancho: No Sanchez, with that hospitable speed all Mexican rancheros display, had already covered the table with pulque, mezcal, Catalonian refino, orangeade, and infusion of tamarinds. The young people, thirsty from their long ride, and not wishing to grieve the worthy persons who received them so kindly, did honour to the refreshments thus profusely offered them. Don Ruiz, while teasing his sister about her strange fancy for spending the night at the rancho, though he felt convinced that she must have a very serious reason for it, conversed gaily according to his fashion, and displayed a dazzling wit which is easier in Mexico than elsewhere; for, owing to the natural intelligence of the people, no matter their rank, they are certain to understand. When day began to fall, the young gentleman took leave of the rancheros, mounted his horse, and started for the hacienda.

In Mexico, as in all intertropical countries, evening is the pleasantest part of the day: at that time the inhabitants are all in the open air. At night they sit in front of the rancho doors, conversing, singing, or dancing; two or three in the morning arrives before they dream of going to bed. But on this day, contrary to her habit when she paid her nurse a visit, Doña Marianna seemed fatigued: at times she had difficulty in checking a yawn, and her desire for rest was so evident that the nurse was the first to invite her to retire. The young lady required no pressing, and after bidding the old folks good night, entered the rancho, and the room prepared for her. So soon as Marianna had left them, the old couple also retired to rest. As for Mariano, after making his usual tour of inspection round the rancho, he hung up a hammock under the portico, as he preferred sleeping in the open air to being shut up within walls which the sun's heat had rendered stifling. An hour later all the inhabitants of the rancho were plunged into the deepest sleep.

Suddenly the tigrero felt a hand gently laid on his shoulder; he opened his eyes, and by the light of the stars, which was as brilliant as day, recognised Doña Marianna. The young man who had thrown himself fully dressed upon the hammock, started up, and looked at his foster sister anxiously.

"What is the matter with you, niña?" he asked, in evident alarm.

"Silence, Mariano!" she answered in a low voice, and laying her finger on her lips; "All is quiet, at least I suppose so, but I wish to speak with you."

"Go on, tocaya," he replied, as he leaped from the hammock and folded it up.

"Yes, but I am sorry at having woken you; you were sleeping so soundly, that I looked at you for nearly a quarter of an hour ere I dared to disturb your rest; for sleep is such a blessed thing."

"Nonsense," he answered with a laugh; "you were wrong, niña; we wood rangers sleep so quickly that an hour is sufficient to rest us, and if I am not mistaken, I have been lying down for more than two. Hence speak, niña; I am attentive, and shall not miss a word of what you say to me."

The young lady reflected for a moment.

"You love me, I think, Mariano?" she at length said, with a certain hesitation in her voice.

"Like a sister, niña," he said, warmly; "in truth, are we not tocayo and tocaya? Why ask such a question?"

"Because I want you to do me an important service."

"Me, niña? ¡Caray! Do not be alarmed; I am devoted to you body and soul, and whatever you may ask – "

"Do not pledge yourself too hastily, tocayo," she interrupted him, with a meaning laugh.

"A man cannot do that when he firmly intends to keep his promise."

"That is true; still there are things from which a man at times recoils."

"There may be such, niña, but I do not know them; however, explain your wishes to me, frankly."

"I think, Mariano, that you are on friendly terms with the hunter, called Stronghand?"

"Very intimate, niña; but why do you ask the question?"

"Is he an honest man?"

The tigrero looked at her.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked her.

"Why," she said, with considerable embarrassment, "I mean a man of heart – a man, in short, whose word may be taken."

Mariano became serious.

"Señorita," he said, "Stronghand saved my life under circumstances when my only hope was in Heaven. I have seen this man perform deeds of incredible courage and audacity, for the sole object of serving people who frequently did not feel the slightest gratitude to him. To me he is more than a friend – more than a brother; whatever he bade me I would do, even if I had to lay down the life he saved, and which belongs to him. Such, niña, is my opinion about the hunter called Stronghand."

The young lady gave a glance of pleasure.

"You are deeply attached to him?" she murmured.

"As I told you, he is more to me than a brother."

"And you often see him?"

"When I want him, or he wants me."

"Does he live in the neighbourhood, then?"

"A short time back he stayed several days at the rancho."

"And will he return?"

"Who knows?"

"What did he during his stay here?"

"I am not aware; I believe that he hunted, though I did not see a single head of game he had killed whilst he was here."

"Ah!" she said, pensively.

There was a silence. Mariano looked at her, somewhat surprised that she should have woke him for the sake of asking him such unimportant questions.

"Well," she continued, presently; "if you wanted to see Stronghand, do you know where to find him?"

"I think so."

"You are not certain?"

"Forgive me, niña, I am certain; we have a spot where we are safe to meet."

"But he might not be there."

"That might happen."

"What would you do in that case?"

"Go and seek him at another place, where I should be sure of finding him."

"Ah! And where is that?"

"At the village he inhabits."

"What village is that? I know of none in the vicinity."

"Pardon me, niña; there is one."

"A long way from here, I presume?"

"Only a few leagues."

"And what is this pueblo?"

"A village of the Papazos."

"What?"

"Yes, I have forgotten to tell you that. Although he is a white man, Stronghand has, for reasons I am ignorant of, joined the Indians, and been adopted by one of their most powerful tribes."

"That is singular," the young lady murmured.

"Is it not?" the tigrero replied; understanding less than ever the object of the conversation.

The maiden shook her head coquettishly, and seemed to form a sudden resolution.

"Mariano," she said, "I asked you to do me a service."

"Yes, niña, and I answered that I was ready to do it."

"That is true; are you still of the same mind?"

"Why should I have altered it?"

"This is what I want of you."

"Speak."

"I wish to see Stronghand."

"Very good; when?"

"At once."

"What?" he asked, in amazement.

"Do you refuse?"

"I do not say that, but – "

"There is a but, then?"

"There always is one."

"Let me hear yours."

"It is long past midnight."

"What matter is that?"

"Not much, I allow."

"Well, what next?"

"It is a long journey."

"Our horses are good."

"We risk not finding the hunter at our usual meeting place."

"We will push on to his village."

The tigrero looked at her attentively.

"You have a great need to see Stronghand in that case?" he asked.

"Most extreme."

"It is more serious than you suppose, señorita."

"Why so?"

"Hang it! It is not so easy to enter an Indian village."

"But you do so."

"That is true; but I am alone and well known."

"Well, I will go on after you; that is all."

"Are you aware that the Indians have revolted?"

"That does not concern you, as you are a friend of theirs."

Mariano shook his head.

"You ask a very difficult thing again, tocaya," he said, "in which you run a great risk."

"Yes, if I fail; but I shall succeed."

"It would be better to give up this excursion."

"Confess at once," she said, impatiently, "that you do not wish to keep the promise you made me."

"You are unjust to me; I am only trying to dissuade you from an enterprise which you will repent when it is too late."

"That is my business, I repeat, Mariano," she continued, with a marked stress in her words; "it is not to gratify a caprice that I wish to see the hunter. I have reasons of the utmost importance for wishing to speak with him; and, to tell you all, he urged me to summon him under certain circumstances, and told me I need only apply to you in order to find him. Are you satisfied now? will you adhere to your doubts, and still refuse to accompany me?"

The young man had listened to Doña Marianna with earnest attention. When she had ended, he replied – "I no longer hesitate, niña; as things are so, I am bound to obey you. Still, I beg you not to make me responsible for any events that may happen."

"Whatever may occur, my kind Mariano, be assured that I shall be grateful to you for the immense service you have rendered me."

"And you wish to start at once?"

"How far have we to ride?"

"Some ten or twelve leagues."

"Oh, that is nothing."

"Not on a regular road; but I warn you that we shall be compelled to follow hardly visible wild beast tracks."

"The night is clear; we shall have sufficient light to guide us, so let us start."

"If you wish it," the young man answered.

A few minutes later they left the rancho at a gallop. It was about two in the morning; and the moon, which was at its full, lit up the landscape as in bright day.