The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
young man dismounted in the first courtyard, and handed his horse to a groom, who led it away.
At the moment when the count was walking towards a large door surmounted by a verandah, and which gave admission to the apartment, don Andrés went out, ran eagerly toward him, pressed him warmly to his heart, and embraced him several times, while saying—
"Heaven be praised! Here you are, at last! We were beginning to be in a mortal anxiety about you."
The count, thus suddenly taken by surprise, had allowed himself to be seized and embraced without exactly comprehending what was happening to him, or with whom he had to deal; but the old gentleman, perceiving the amazement he felt, and which, in spite of his efforts, he could not succeed in completely concealing, did not leave him long in embarrassment, but stated his name, adding—
"I am your near relative, my dear Count—your cousin; hence, stand on no ceremony—act here as if you were at home: this house, with all it contains, is at your disposal, and belongs to you."
The young man began protesting, but don Andrés once more interrupted him.
"I am an old fool," he said. "I am keeping you here, listening to my maundering, and forget that you have had a long ride, and must need rest. Come, I wish to have the pleasure of conducting you myself to your apartments, which have been ready for you for some days past."
"My dear cousin," the count answered; "I thank you a thousand times for your kind attention; but I think it would be only polite for you to introduce me to doña Dolores, ere I retire."
"There is no hurry for that, my dear Count: my daughter is at this moment shut up in her boudoir with her women. Let me announce you first, for I know better than you what is proper under the circumstances—and go and rest yourself."
"Very well, my cousin; I will follow you. I will indeed confess, since you are so good as to place me so thoroughly at my ease, that I shall not be at all sorry to take a few hours' rest."
"Did I not know it?" don Andrés replied, gaily; "But all young people are the same—they doubt nothing."
The hacendero thereupon led his guest to the apartments which had been tastefully prepared and furnished under the immediate inspection of don Andrés, and were intended to serve as the count's abode during the whole of the period he might be pleased to spend at the hacienda.
The suite of rooms, though not large, was arranged in a very sensible and comfortable manner, considering the resources of the country.
It consisted of four rooms. The count's bedroom, with dressing room and bathroom attached, a study, serving as a drawing room, an antechamber, and a room for the count's valets; so that he might have them within call by day and night.
By means of a few partitions, the suite bad been separated from and rendered entirely independent of the other apartments in the hacienda. It was entered by three doors, one opening on the vestibule, the second into the common court yard, and the third leading by a flight of steps to the magnificent huerta, which, through its extent, might pass for a park.
The count, newly landed in Mexico, and who, like all foreigners, formed a false idea of a country which he did not know, was far from expecting to find at the Hacienda del Arenal a lodging so convenient, and in such conformity with his rather serious tastes and habits, hence he was really ravished by everything he saw. He warmly thanked don Andrés for the trouble he had been kind enough to take in rendering his stay in the house agreeable to him, and assured him that he was far from expecting so cordial a reception.
Don Andrés de la Cruz, highly pleased with this compliment, rubbed his hands in glee, and at length withdrew, leaving his relative at liberty to repose, if he thought proper.
When left alone with his valet, the count, after changing his dress, and assuming another more suitable to the country than the one he was wearing, questioned his servant as to the way in which he had performed the journey from Veracruz, and the reception offered him on his arrival at the hacienda.
This valet was a man of about the same age as the count, deeply attached to his master, whose foster brother he was; a powerfully-built fellow, tolerably good looking, very brave, and possessing a quality very precious in a servant—that of seeing nothing, hearing nothing, and only speaking when he received an express order to do so, and even then he did it as concisely as possible.
The count was very fond of him, and placed unbounded confidence in him. His name was Raimbaut, and was a Basque; continually particular about etiquette, and professing a profound respect for his master. He never spoke of him save in the third person, and at whatever hour of the day or night the count might call him, he never presented himself before him, unless dressed in the strict garb he had adopted, and which was composed of a black coat with a stand-up collar and gold buttons, a black waistcoat, black knee breeches, white silk stockings, buckled shoes, and white cravat. Thus dressed, with the exception of powder, which he did not wear, Raimbaut presented an amazing likeness to the steward of a great nobleman in the last century.
The count's second servant was a tall lad, twenty years of age, robust and sturdy—godson of Raimbaut, who had undertaken to train him for his duties. He did the heavy work, and wore the count's livery—blue and silver: his name was Lanca Ibarru. He was devoted to his master, and awfully afraid of his godfather, for whom he professed a profound veneration. He was active, courageous, crafty, and intelligent; but these qualities were slightly tarnished by his gluttony and pronounced taste for the dolce far niente.
Raimbaut's story was a short one. Nothing at all had happened to him, with the exception of the order which a strange man had delivered to him, as from his master, not to continue his journey to Mexico, but to have himself conducted to the Hacienda del Arenal, which order he had obeyed.
The count recognized the truth of what the adventurer had told him: he dismissed his valet, sat down on a butaca, took up a book, and very shortly after fell fast asleep.
At about four in the afternoon, just as he was waking, Raimbaut entered the room, and announced that don Andrés de la Cruz was waiting for him to sit down to table, as the hour for the evening meal had arrived.
The count cast a glance at his toilette, and, preceded by Raimbaut, who acted as his guide, proceeded to the dining room.
CHAPTER VI.
THROUGH THE WINDOW.
The dining room of the Hacienda del Arenal was a vast, long room lighted by Gothic windows lined with coloured glass. The walls, covered with oak paneling, rendered black by time, gave it the appearance of a Carthusian refectory in the fifteenth century. An immense horseshoe table, surrounded by benches, except at the upper end, occupied the entire centre of the room.
When Count de la Saulay entered the dining room, the other guests, numbering from twenty to twenty-five, were already assembled.
Don Andrés, like many of the great Mexican landowners, had kept up on his estates the custom of making his people eat at the same table with himself.
This patriarchal custom, which has long fallen into desuetude in Europe, was for all that, in our opinion, one of the best our forefathers left us. This community of life drew together the bonds which attach masters to servants, and rendered the latter, so to speak, vassals of the family whose private life they shared up to a certain point.
Don Andrés de la Cruz was standing at the end of the room, between doña Dolores, his daughter, and don Melchior, his son.
We will say nothing of doña Dolores, with whom the reader is already acquainted. Don Melchior was a young man of nearly the same age as the count. His tall stature and powerful limbs rendered him a gallant gentleman, in the common acceptance of the term. His features were manly and marked, and his beard was black and full. He had a large, well open eye, a fixed and piercing glance: his very brown complexion had a slight olive tinge; the sound of his voice was rather rough, his accent harsh, while his countenance was stern, and its expression became menacing and haughty upon the slightest emotion. His gestures were