The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 6, June, 1862

XIII

'About three o'clock, I returned home. I had ensconced myself, book in hand, in my rocking-chair, when groans which seemed to proceed from Mr. Livermore's room, attracted my attention. I listened at the door, and my fears were realized. The groans were assuredly uttered by my neighbor. I rushed into his room, and as I crossed toward his bed, a fearful spectacle met my gaze.

'Lying across the bed, his face livid, every muscle in motion, a prey to the most violent convulsions, I saw my unfortunate fellow-countryman. No sooner, however, did the noise of my entrance fall upon his ear, than he summoned strength enough to rise, and seizing a pistol that was beside him, pointed it at me.

''Ah! it is you?' said he, lowering his weapon, and falling back, 'you have arrived just in time to see me die.'

''Take courage, my friend; for heaven's sake, be of good cheer. It is only one of your usual attacks, and will pass off; there is no danger.'

''No danger!' repeated the unfortunate sufferer, biting the sheet and striving to stifle the cry which agony drew from him; 'no danger? why, I am poisoned!'

''Poisoned! you must be mad,' I exclaimed: but without loss of time, I summoned Donna Lopez, and sent instantly for a doctor, who fortunately lived within a few doors of our house.

'Once more alone with Arthur, I inquired, during a momentary cessation of his sufferings:

''What reason have you for thinking you are poisoned?'

''I am sure of it,' he replied. 'About an hour since, I received a visit from the Mexican General who is superintendent of the recruiting service. He desired me to give him certain explanations relative to Pepito, which, of course, I did. It was very warm, and he asked for a glass of iced water. I offered him some claret to mix with it, and, at his request, joined him in the drink. But a few moments elapsed after I had taken my draught, when I felt a weakness steal over me; my eyelids grew heavy, my knees gave way, and an intolerable heat burned my veins. I was compelled to sit down upon my bed. At that moment, the General changed his tone, and imperiously demanded the key of my desk. 'I do not want your money,' he said, 'but I must have the papers relative to the opal-mine.' I can not express the effect these words produced upon me. 'To deal frankly with you,' continued the General, 'you are poisoned, and the Indian poison that is now coursing through your veins has no antidote. Ten minutes, and your strength will begin to fail; two hours, and your earthly career will end. If you do not at once give me your keys, I shall force the lock.' These words, which he doubtless thought would crush me, filled me with boundless rage, and for a few moments revived my sinking energies. I started to my feet, and seized my revolver.'

'''The devil! it seems the dose was not strong enough,' exclaimed my assassin, taking flight; 'but I will return, be sure of that.''

'The doctor soon arrived. At the first glance at the patient, he knit his brow, and his countenance became overcast.

''How long have you been ill?' he inquired.

''I was poisoned, about an hour since.'

''Ah! you know you have been poisoned?'

''Yes, doctor, and also the man who poisoned me. Tell me, I beseech you, how long I have to live? Speak! you need have no fear; I am prepared for the worst.'

'The doctor hesitated, and then said: 'I fear, my dear sir, another hour is all you can hope for.'

''I thank you, doctor, for your frankness. No antidote, then, can save me?'

''None. The poison you have taken, which the Indians call 'Leche de palo,' is deadly. Your present sufferings will soon cease, and gradually you will sink, peacefully and painlessly, into the sleep of death.'

''Send instantly, then, for a magistrate. I at least will be revenged on my murderer,' said Arthur, 'let me at once make my statement.'

''You will only be wasting your dying moments,' interposed the doctor; 'day after day, I am called upon to witness the ravages of this insidious poison, but never yet has the scaffold punished the assassin. My dear friend, think not of your murderer; eternity is opening to receive you; in its solemn presence, mere human vengeance shrinks into utter nothingness.'

''Doctor, you speak wisely as well as kindly. Poor Adéle,' murmured Arthur, and his eyes closed, though his lips still moved.

'After the doctor's departure, I sent to the American Legation, urgently requesting some official to return with my messenger. I took a chair beside the bed, while Donna Teresa knelt in the adjoining room, and prayed and sobbed with much fervor. In a short while, Arthur rallied from the stupor into which he had fallen. His features became calm, his breathing regular though feeble, and the tranquil, almost happy, expression of his eye made me for a time half doubt the fearful prediction of the physician.

''Do you feel better?' I inquired.

''Much much; I am in no pain.'

''Let us hope, then, for the best. I will send for another doctor.'

''No, that would be useless. My lower extremities are swelling, and I can feel the hand of death clutching at my vitals. The doctor was right; death is not racking me with torture, it is gently embracing me. But I want your assistance; sit down.'

'I resumed my seat, and Arthur continued, in a feeble tone, but perfectly calm:

''How mean a thing is life! Good God! so mean, that at this moment I can not explain to my own soul why man should cling to it. What do we meet during our short career? Deceit, hypocrisy, and treachery. Ah! death reveals the hollowness of life.'

''My dear friend, you are exhausting yourself. Did you not say you wanted my assistance? Rely on my zeal, my fidelity, and my discretion.'

''Rely on you! How can I tell? You are only a man; perhaps avaricious and treacherous as your fellow-mortals. No matter; though you should forswear yourself; I, at least, will do what is right. Feel beneath my pillow, there is a key; take it, open my desk. In the small drawer on the left is a package of letters. Have you them? Good. Next to that there is a sealed letter. Now, read aloud the direction on each.'

''Papers to be burnt after my death,' said I, obeying his injunction.

''Well, what do you intend doing with them?'

''Can you for one moment doubt?' I replied.

'What if I should tell you they contain the entire secret of my opal-mine!'

'I made no reply; but struck a match against the wall, and setting them on fire, resumed my seat.

''I could hardly have believed it; but you still have Pepito; from him you hope to learn the secret,' said the dying man.

''Shall I bind myself by an oath not to seek him?'

''No; I leave you at liberty. Act as you think best. I burned those papers because they were bought with blood, for no other reason.'

''Bought with blood?' I exclaimed.

''Yes; ten months ago, General Ramiro died at New-Orleans, by poison—poison administered by Adéle. Do you wonder life has lost all charm for me? Oh! life is the bitterness, not death.'

'His voice momently grew fainter. I leaned closer, to catch his fading tones, till he ceased to speak. I gazed intently at his glassy eyes; the lids closed for a moment, then partially opened, the jaw fell, and he was no more.'

'I know not how long I had stood beside his lifeless body, pondering over the uncertainty of life, and the mystery of death, and the conflicting presentiments he had uttered: that he should live to achieve success, yet die without again seeing her who had lured him to his wretched end, when the door of the chamber suddenly opened, and five or six dragoons entered, accompanied by an officer in undress uniform.

''What! you here, General?' I exclaimed.

''Why not?' was the cool reply, 'I am in search of a deserter named Pepito, who, I was informed, was concealed here. I see he is not here; but doubtless by searching among the papers contained in this desk, I shall find some clue to him.'

''Your search, General, will be fruitless. The unfortunate young man whose corpse lies here, instructed me, before he expired, to burn all the papers in his possession, and I have obeyed his injunctions.'

''Curses on his infernal obstinacy!' exclaimed General Valiente, 'but look you, Señor, I tell you I will search this desk.'

''By what right?'

''By the right of might.'

'Taking my stand in front of the desk, I was protesting against the lawless act of violence, when the Secretary of the American Legation fortunately arrived. Finding his plans defeated, Valiente, with commendable prudence, decided on beating a retreat, and with his followers, took rather an abrupt departure.

'The ordinary formalities of attaching the seals of the Legation having been performed, and having secured a faithful person to take charge of the remains of the unfortunate Livermore, I sallied forth to make arrangements to leave, as soon as possible, for Toluca.

The first person I met was Pedro. It is impossible to express the horror I felt of this villain. My hand was on my weapon before he had reached my side.

''Have you heard the news, Caballero?' said he, in a low, mysterious tone.

''No.'

''I was not fortunate enough to release Pepito; when I arrived with his master's letter, he had already escaped from the barracks.'

''Tell me frankly, Pedro, did not General Valiente send you, this morning, for that letter?'

''Why? What makes you ask?' inquired Pedro, quite disconcerted by the abruptness of my question.

''Because Señor Pride is dead, and General Valiente has twice been to his rooms.'

''Dead! Señor Pride dead!' echoed Pedro, in unfeigned astonishment. 'Caballero, I must be off.' And he instantly turned away, and was soon lost to my sight.

'Before another hour had passed I was on horseback and on the way to Toluca. The road was infested by gangs of robbers, but my pockets were empty, and my brain was full, so I gave those gentry not even a passing thought. The evening was fast closing in, and as the shadows gathered round me, the tragic event which I had just witnessed gradually receded from my mind. As I journeyed on, it grew more and more distant, until at last it faded into a dim memory of the past; and through the long miles of my lonely ride there went before me the glorious vision of an opal-mine of untold wealth—an opal-mine without an owner—a countless fortune, untold riches, waiting to fall into my hands.

XIV

'It was past midnight when I reached Toluca. As it was too late to call on Adéle, I alighted at a tavern, where I passed the night, pacing my chamber, and not closing my eyes. Soon after daybreak I sought the house of Pepito's sister; and notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, found Mrs. Percival standing at one of the windows.

''You here, Mr. Rideau!' she exclaimed, with surprise, on seeing me. 'How did you find my retreat?'

''I was told of it by Mr. Livermore.'

''Ah! 'tis he who sent you.'

''Alas! not so, madame.'

''Alas!—you say, alas! What do you mean? Have you ill news?'

''I have, indeed, madame.'

''Arthur is dead!' she cried. 'I know he is dead! But, tell me, I entreat you, tell me all. How—when did this happen?'

'I gave her a detailed account of Arthur's death, to which she listened with rapt attention.

''This opal-mine, like the Golden Fleece, brings misfortune to all who seek it,' she said, when I had finished, 'Poor Arthur! I loved him fondly, devotedly; and his image will live forever in my heart. But at such a crisis it is worse than folly—it is madness to waste time by giving way to grief. Reason teaches us to bow before the inevitable. It is idle to repine at the decrees of Fate. I am alone, now—alone, without a friend or a protector. No matter; I have a stout heart, and the mercy of Providence is above all. But to business: After the death of Mr. Livermore, what became of the papers?'

''I burned them before his death, in obedience to his injunctions.'

''You burned them! I will not believe it!' she exclaimed, in a loud voice, and with a penetrating glance.

'I felt the blood rush to my face; she noticed my anger, and at once added, in milder tone:

''Pardon me! pardon me! I knew not what I said; I am well-nigh crazy; I do believe you, I do indeed; forgive me, and think of the despair to which the loss of those papers reduces me. I have no copy, and with them my secret perishes. I am ruined—ruined irretrievably. The mine is known now only to Pepito!'

''Then, madame, on him you must hereafter rely.'

''Explain to me, pray, how could Arthur, on his dying-bed, have been guilty of so cruel, so mean an act? How could he despoil the woman who had trusted him, and leave her not only forlorn, but destitute?'

'This question embarrassed me, and I was conning an answer, when Adéle resumed:

''Let no false delicacy restrain you; speak out, Mr. Rideau; adversity has taught me endurance, if not courage.'

''Since, madame, you absolutely extort it from me, I must admit that a few moments before he expired, Mr. Livermore—'

''Speak out, plainly; I beg of you, conceal nothing.'

''Well, madame, the words he used were: 'I destroy these papers because they were bought with blood. Ten months ago General Ramiro died, at New-Orleans, by poison—poison administered by Adéle!''

''Poor Arthur! what agony he must have suffered—he must have been delirious. O Arthur! why was I not beside you? Poor Arthur!' As she uttered these words, she raised her streaming eyes to heaven; her lips moved as if in prayer, and a deadly pallor overspread her countenance.

'In a short time her fortitude returned, and turning toward me, she said, in a voice which betrayed no emotion:

''Let us turn from the past and look at the present. Difficulties surround and threaten to overwhelm me. Before I can determine how they are to be met, I have a proposition to make to you, Mr. Rideau, to which I must have an immediate answer. Will you become my partner in this business?'

''Have you enough confidence in me?'

''I have; and for this reason: you have not sought to meddle in this matter, but from the outset have striven to shun it; you have not obtruded yourself, but been drawn into it in spite of your wishes. Do you accept my proposition? Yes, or no?'

''I accept,' I replied, moderating my joyful feelings as well as I possibly could.

''Such being your decision, what course do you advise?'

''Immediate action, for minutes are precious.'

''I foresee we shall agree perfectly. To-day my host purposes starting for the capital; I shall accompany him. If you return without delay, the remainder of the day will suffice to prepare for the journey, and to-morrow we will start for the opal-mine.'

''But where shall I meet you, madame?'

''At the Hotel de las Diligencias.'

''And where shall I find Pepito?'

''At a tavern near the Barrier del Nino Perdido. But you will not, if you please, inform him of my address. For—well, it is an unpleasant matter to mention—but this Pepito seems to be—'

''Desperately in love with you.'

''I hardly meant that—but his attentions are too oppressive to be quite agreeable.'

''I fully understand you, madame. May I inquire if you have had any tidings of Mr. Percival?'

''Do not, I beg, Mr. Rideau, allude to that painful topic—all feelings of resentment are hushed in the grave.'

''What! have you heard of his assassination?'

'' Yes; the news reached me yesterday; I read it in the newspaper.'

'I shortly afterward took my leave—the last words of my new copartner being:

''At five, then, at the Hotel de las Diligencias. Be sure you are punctual.'

'Arrived in Mexico, my first thought was to seek for Pepito. Following the directions given me by Mrs. Percival, I soon found him; and repeating to him a portion of the interview I had with the lady, I finished by proposing to take the place of Mr. Livermore in the bargain that had been made between them.

''I ask nothing better,' was the reply. 'Here are my terms—two thousand dollars the very day we return to Mexico, and I to hold the shells till you hand over the money. That is fair, is it not?'

''Quite. When shall I see you again?'

''At eight to-night, on the Cathedral steps.'

'Hastening home, I devoted the rest of the day to preparing for my journey, and a little before five started for the Hotel de las Diligencias. Mrs. Percival had not yet arrived. Twice again I called, but still in vain. The evening gradually wore away, and at eight I paced the Cathedral Square, and for an hour loitered around the steps; but Pepito, also, failed to keep the rendezvous.

'As the next day was Sunday, I felt assured the most likely place to find Pepito, would be the bull-ring. On reaching it, I found a crowd assembled near one of the entrances, and pushing my way through, I beheld Pepito lying on the ground weltering in his blood. I rushed to him, and kneeling down, raised him in my arms.

''Ah! it is you, Señor,' said he, in a feeble tone. 'This is Pedro's work, but it was his last; for I have killed the traitor.'

''Pepito, tell me, for Heaven's sake, where did you find the shells?'I inquired; for avarice and cupidity reigned, I am ashamed to own, paramount within my breast.

''Those shells? In the plains of Chiapa—three days' journey from the sea—near the little river—in a brook—Ah! glory to God! here comes a priest!'

'At this moment a fat Franciscan friar pressed through the crowd.

''Absolution, padre! absolution!' cried Pepito, to whom the sight of the friar brought back new life.

''Patience, my son, patience! I am very late—very late—and I must not be detained. Wait a little—and after the sports of the day are over, I will return.'

''But, padre, I shall be dead!'

''Well, then, be quick!'

''I have only two sins on my conscience: I have not attended mass for three weeks.'

''That is sad! very sad! Well, what next?'

''Three days ago I stabbed an Inglez—a heretic.'

''Well, my dear son, your sins are venial sins; I absolve you.'

''Pepito, how did that dagger come into your hands?' I exclaimed, for I was astonished to see in his belt the dagger I had lost on the night when Adéle took refuge in my room.

''From my dear—Adéle.'

''And the Inglez—the heretic you stabbed—who was he?'

''Her husband—she wished it—promised to be mine—and I obeyed. But, stand back—I want air—air.'

'I turned away my head, sickened at the fearful revelation. When I again looked, my eyes fell on a corpse. I snatched the dagger, which was still wet with Pedro's blood, from his belt, and hurried almost frantic to the Hotel de las Diligencias. Mrs. Percival had been waiting for me about two hours.

'The violent emotions which raged within me must have been portrayed on my countenance, for on my entering the apartment, she started back in dismay.

''Mrs. Percival,' said I, striving to master the repulsive feeling which the mere sight of her excited, 'Pepito has, within the past hour, been murdered.'

''Murdered!' she repeated. 'And the secret—'

''Is dead—for you—forever! Madame, that infernal mine has for years been driving you to the blackest crime! It is time that the bait fell from the devil's hook.'

''What do you mean by this altered tone?'

''I mean, madame, that, thanks to Heaven, your crimes have been revealed to me. Shall I enumerate the list of your victims—General Ramiro, Arthur Livermore, Edward Percival, your husband, and last of all, Pepito? Your path, since you have sought this mine, is marked at every step by treachery and crime. The boldest heart must shudder to look at the ghastly procession led on by the General you poisoned.'

'''Tis false! God help me, 'tis false!'

''False—is it false—that three days since your husband was murdered at your instigation, by Pepito? Stay—hear me! Look at this dagger! did you not steal it from my room and give it to Pepito to perpetrate the crime? Madame, pause, ere you dare to swear it is false.'

'She trembled, and falling on her knees, exclaimed:

''My God! my God! forgive me!'

''It is not, madame, for erring man to limit the infinite mercy of Heaven; but for such crimes as yours there must be a fearful retribution. Farewell; may you go and sin no more.'

'I left the room, but in a few moments heard a piercing shriek; and rushing back, found the wretched woman extended on the floor in the agonies of death. She had picked up the dagger which I had thrown away, and stabbed herself to the heart.

'And the opal-mine?'

'I meant, at first, to leave the Nibelungen Hoard alone; but time tames all things except the love of gold. I went there; it was rich, but not inexhaustible. You have all had proof that I am neither poor nor parsimonious; but neither am I extravagant. I have all that I want—a cottage at Newport, a neat house in the Rue de la Paix, stocks, and real estate. The opal-mine started me; I have kept myself going very well ever since.

'Gentlemen, my tale is ended. I am sorry it has proved so long, and am grateful to you all for the attentive hearing you have given me. I have been constantly looking round expecting to detect some one of you falling into a gentle slumber; I therefore feel really flattered at finding you all still awake.'

'But what became of the child that Percival was seeking?' shouted one.

'Did you ever find out any thing about Adéle's previous history?' asked another.

'And look here, Rideau, what did you—?'

'Gentlemen, take pity on me; while I have been spinning this long yarn, you have been smoking and imbibing; I am very willing to join you in both; but to-night I am tired out. The next time we meet, I shall be delighted to tell you what particulars I learned on my return to New Orleans, relative to Adéle and her poor orphan child; but no more to-night.'

THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUE

Red was the lightning's flashing,And down through the driving rain,We saw the red eyes dashingOf the merciless midnight train;Soon many crowded together,Under the lamp's red glow,But I saw one figure only—Ah! why did I tremble so?The eyes that gazed in the darknessAfter the midnight train,Are red with watching and weeping,For it brings none back again.Clouds hang in the west like banners,Red banners of war unfurled,And the prairie sod is crimsonWith the best blood of the world.White faces are pressed to the window,Watching the sun go down,Looking out to the coming darkness,That covers the noisy town.White are the hands, too, and quiet,Over the pulseless breast;No more will the vision of partingDisturb the white sleeper's rest.Over sleeper, and grave, and tombstone,Like a pitying mantle spread,The snow comes down in the night-time,With a shy and noiseless tread.Blue smoke rolls away on the north-wind,Blue skies grow dusk in the din,Blue waters look dark with the shadowThat gathers the world within.Rigid and blue are the fingersThat clutch at the fading sky;Blue lips in their agony mutter:'O God! let this cup pass by.'Blue eyes grow weary with watching;Strong hands with waiting to do;While brave hearts echo the watchword:'Hurrah! for the Red, White, and Blue.'

MACCARONI AND CANVAS

IV.

THE FAIR AT GROTTO FERRATA

No matter how well and hearty you may be, if you are in Rome, in summer, when the scirócco blows, you will feel as if convalescent from some debilitating fever; in winter, however, this gentle-breathing south-east wind will act more mildly; it will woo you to the country, induce you to sit down in a shady place, smoke, and 'muse.' That incarnate essence of enterprise, business, industry, economy, sharpness, shrewdness, and keenness—that Prometheus whose liver was torn by the vulture of cent per cent—eternally tossing, restless DOOLITTLE, was one day seen asleep, during bank hours, on a seat in the Villa Madama. The scirócco blew that day: Doolittle fell.

At breakfast, one morning in the latter part of the month of March, Caper proposed to Roejean and another artist named Bagswell, to attend the fair held that day at Grotto Ferrata.

'What will you find there?' asked Roejean.

'Find?—I remember, in the Bohemian Girl, a song that will answer you,' replied Caper; 'the words were composed by the theatrical poet Bunn':

'Rank, in its halls, may not findThe calm of a happy mind;So repairTo the Fair,And they may be met with there.'

'Unsatisfactory, both the grammar and the sentiment,' said Bagswell; 'it won't work; it's all wrong. In the first place, rank, in its hauls, may find the calm of a happy mind: for instance, the captain of a herring-smack may find the calm of a very happy mind in his hauls of No. 1 Digbys; more joy even than the fair could afford him. Let us go!'