Stoneheart: A Romance. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
had retired, and their masters found themselves alone, they left the table, and betook themselves, as on the previous day, to an inner room, where, sheltered from prying eyes and ears, they ran no risk of having their conversation overheard, commented on, and perhaps reported.
"Shut the door," said Don Estevan to Don Fernando, who was the last to enter.
"Not so," replied the latter; "we will leave it open: by this means we shall both see and hear anyone who may come near us. Take this as a general rule: never close the door when you have secrets to tell."
Don Estevan drew forward some butacas (seats), sat down, lit his cigarette, and turning to the hunter, said:
"Now for our talk!"
There are certain situations in life where the most insignificant word becomes of the greatest importance. So, when Don Estevan said, "Now for our talk!" each of the three felt that the conversation to ensue would not be confined to the limits of pleasant chat, but would almost assume the proportions of a congress with closed doors, so extremely grave were the matters which would be propounded.
It was Don Fernando who first commenced the conversation in the decided and clear manner which was habitual to him.
"My friend, I have pondered deeply on what you told me today: you would never have intrusted such an important secret to me, if grave reasons had not induced you. I think I have divined your reasons; they are these: the tranquillity which Don Pedro has enjoyed since he lived here is menaced; you dread evil to Doña Hermosa. Are these your motives, or am I mistaken?"
"You are not. In fact, I have for some time past been oppressed by a vague fear, a secret apprehension, I cannot subdue; I feel, as it were, the approach of some misfortune, without knowing whence or how it will come. Doubtless you know better than I can tell you, that in all men's lives certain dark hours occur, in which the brave man trembles without apparent cause, like a child afraid of its own shadow. All things alarm, all things excite suspicion. Well, my friend, for the last two months I have lived these dark hours: an invincible sadness overpowers me. In a word, I am living in fear, without knowing why; for all around me takes its usual course: Don Pedro is as calm, Doña Hermosa as gay, as lively, and as free from care as ever; we live in this out-of-the-way corner of the world entirely ignorant of its doings; the rumours of society die without an echo on our threshold. What have we, then, to fear? Who is the enemy that lies in wait for us, and whose savage eye watches us night and day? I know not; but I repeat, I feel him; I see him, as it were, without being really able to discover him."
"You know your enemy now, as well as I do. It is the Tigercat. The conversation you overheard last night between him and myself must have enlightened you as to his intention, if not as to his plans."
"True; but, nevertheless, my mind refuses to admit that this man can really be our enemy. As there can be no effects without causes, so there can be no hate without a reason. Since Don Pedro's arrival in this country, he has never come in contact with this man at home or abroad, for good or for evil. Why, then, should he wish ill to my master?"
"Why! Why!" repeated the hunter, with feverish impatience. "Why does day follow night? Why are there good and bad men? Why rascals and honest people? The inquiry would lead you too far, my good friend. I know as well as you that none of you have ever come in contact with the Tigercat. It is impossible to doubt it; but what does that signify? This man is a gloomy miscreant, the greater portion of whose life is spent in doing evil for mere evil's sake. Don Pedro is loved and honoured by all who know him; Doña Hermosa is respected even by the Apaches, – the most ferocious redskins of the prairie; hence, most likely, the hatred he bears to the family of the hacendero. In such a man's eyes, no one has the right to be good and honest with impunity; it is an obvious necessity that all loyal hearts should be his natural enemies. A man, however low he may have fallen, can never forget his frightful downfall, or the position from which his crimes have hurled him; he cannot forgive the world his own abasement; but as he cannot avenge himself upon it in the mass, he wages war upon it in detail, attacking all those within his reach, and taking his revenge on them for fault she has himself committed. Here lies the sole cause of Tigercat's hatred of Don Pedro; seek no further reason; no other exists."
"Yes; you are right," answered Don Estevan uneasily; "it must be as you say."
"Of course it is! Trust in me, who have known the monster so long, as it is he who brought me up. But enough of this: what do you intend to do, now we have clearly ascertained our position?"
"I confess I find myself greatly embarrassed, and know not how to extricate myself from the dilemma – how to upset plans the aim of which is beyond my ken; how to thwart projects tending to an unknown end. There lies the difficulty for me."
"I think it would be by far the best course to leave the family in complete ignorance of our suspicions," said Ña Manuela.
"Say rather our conviction, señora," replied Don Fernando. "But in this matter I am quite of your opinion: it will be easy for us to guard Don Pedro and his daughter so secretly that they shall not dream of the danger which threatens them. Then, if the position grows too complicated, we shall not be in want of pretexts to oblige them to keep watch over their own safety."
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Don Estevan excitedly;
"It is most important that they should entertain no suspicion, particularly Doña Hermosa, who is so sensitive. Poor child; if our fears prove true, she will learn to know misfortune too soon. Come, Fernando, counsel us; you are the only one who can aid us in this trying emergency."
"I will do all a man can do to save those you love."
"Thanks. But why not save those whom you love yourself? You have already rendered them an inestimable service."
"Alas, my friend!" said the hunter, with a sigh; "What am I, the miserable adventurer, that I should lift my thoughts so high? I am nothing more; and can only play the part of the honest watchdog, who saves his master and dies at his feet."
He spoke these words in accents of so much sadness and humility, that Don Estevan and his mother, moved to tears, with one accord seized his hands, and pressed them affectionately.
"Do not speak thus, brother," exclaimed the mayor domo; "you do not know Doña Hermosa as we do: a more upright heart, a purer or nobler soul, does not exist: she loves you."
"Ah," said Don Fernando with emotion, "do not utter the word. Doña Hermosa – love me – me! It is impossible."
"Doña Hermosa is a woman, my good friend; you saved her life. I do not positively know the nature of her sentiments towards you, – it is very likely they are inexplicable to herself, – but I am convinced of her gratitude to you; and in a young girl gratitude soon merges into love."
"Silence, Estevan!" cried the old lady, interrupting him; "Such words must not be used when speaking of your master's daughter."
"Very true, mother; forgive me; I was wrong. But had you heard Doña Hermosa speaking of our friend as I did, and exacting from me a promise to search for and bring him to her, —¡vive Dios! you would not know what to think."
"Perhaps so; but, at all events, I should not have poured oil upon the flame, and, for my own sake and that of my friend, should have prudently locked up my thoughts at the bottom of my heart."
"Do not think me so mad, señora," exclaimed Don Fernando, "as to attach more importance than they deserve to your son's words. I know too well what I am – I have too complete a conviction of my inferiority – to dare to raise my venturous eyes to her whom honour compels me to respect as one of the angels."
"Well said, Don Fernando, and spoken as a man should speak," broke in Ña Manuela; "but let us drop the subject, and occupy ourselves in finding the means of escape from the dilemma we are in."
"I think," replied the hunter, with some hesitation – "I think I can show you the means, if you cannot contrive something better."
Mother and son eagerly drew their butacas nearer to him, in order to listen more attentively.
"Speak, brother, speak," cried Don Estevan; "let us have no further delay. These means, what are they?"
"You must excuse