The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
manners distinguished; and he wore the Mexican costume in all its purity.
So soon as the introductions had been made by don Andrés, the party took their seats. The hacendero, after bidding Ludovic sit on his right hand, by his daughter's side, made a sign to the latter. She repeated the Benedicite, the guests said Amen, and the meal commenced.
The Mexicans, like their Spanish ancestors, are extremely sober; they do not drink during meals. It is only when the dulces or sweets are brought in, that is to say, at dessert, that vessels containing water are placed on the table.
By a delicate attention, don Andrés offered wine to his French guest, who was waited on by his valet, standing behind him, to the general amazement of the company.
The meal was silent, in spite of the repeated efforts of don Andrés to animate the conversation. The count and don Melchior limited themselves to the exchange of a few conventional phrases, and then held their tongues. Doña Dolores was pale, and seemed to be unwell; she ate hardly anything, and did not utter a syllable.
At length dinner was over. They rose from table, and the servants of the hacienda dispersed to go to their work.
The count, involuntarily disturbed by the cold and measured reception which don Melchior had offered him, alleged the fatigue of the journey as a reason for wishing to retire to his apartments.
Don Andrés consented to this with much repugnance. Don Melchior and the count exchanged a ceremonious bow, and turned their backs on each other. Doña Dolores gave the young man a graceful bow, and the count withdrew, after warmly shaking the hand which his host held out to him.
It took Count de la Saulay, who was habituated to the comfortable elegance and pleasant relations of Parisian life, to become used to the sad, monotonous, and savage existence at the Hacienda del Arenal.
In spite of the cordial reception which had been given him by don Andrés de la Cruz and the attention he did not cease to offer him, the young man speedily perceived that his host was the sole person of the family who regarded him favourably.
Doña Dolores, though very polite to him and even gracious in their daily relations when chance brought them together, still seemed to be embarrassed in his presence, and to shun every occasion when he could converse with her in private: so soon as she perceived that her father or brother was leaving the room, in which she happened to be with the count, she at once broke off the begun conversation, blushingly faltered an excuse, and went away or rather flew away, light and rapid as a bird, and left Ludovic without further ceremony.
This conduct on the part of a girl to whom he had been betrothed from his childhood, for whose sake he had crossed the Atlantic almost against his will, and solely to honour the engagement made by his family in his name, naturally surprised and mortified a man like Count de la Saulay, whom his personal beauty, his wit and even his fortune had not hitherto accustomed to be treated with such strange want of ceremony and such complete contempt by the ladies.
Naturally but little inclined to the marriage which his family wished to force himself into, not feeling at all enamoured of his cousin, whom he had scarce taken the trouble to look at, and whom he was much disposed to consider a fool, on account of her want of tact towards himself, the count would easily have taken advantage of the repugnance which she seemed to feel for him—would not only have consoled but congratulated himself on the breaking off of his marriage with her, had not his self-esteem been too extensively implicated, in a way very insulting to him.
However great might be the indifference he felt for the young lady, he was offended at the slight effect his dress, manners and luxurious habits had produced on her, and the coldly contemptuous way in which she had listened to his compliments and accepted his advances.
Though sincerely desirous in his heart that this marriage, which displeased him for a thousand reasons, might not be completed, he would still have liked that the rupture, without coming absolutely from him, should not come so distinctly from the young lady, and that circumstances should permit him while retiring with all the honours of war, to feel himself regretted by the girl who was to have been his wife.
Dissatisfied with himself and the persons by whom he was surrounded, feeling himself in a false position, which could not fail to become ridiculous ere long, the count thought of getting out of it as speedily as possible. But, before provoking a frank and decisive explanation on the part of don Andrés de la Cruz, who did not seem to suspect in the slightest degree the turn affairs were taking, the count resolved to know positively what he had to depend on as regarded his affianced; for with that fatuity natural to all men spoiled by facile successes, he felt a mental conviction that it was impossible doña Dolores would not have loved him, if her heart had not already been captivated by someone else.
This resolution once formed and fully resolved in his mind, the count, who found himself very unoccupied at the hacienda, set about watching the young lady's conduct, determined, once he had acquired a certainty to retire and return as speedily as possible to France, which country he regretted every day more, and which he repented having so suddenly abandoned, in order to seek so humiliating an adventure two thousand leagues from home.
In spite of her indifference for the count, we have remarked, however, that doña Dolores felt herself obliged to be polite and attentive to the count, although not so amiable as he might have desired: an example which her brother completely dispensed himself from following towards his father's guest, whom he treated with such marked coldness, that it would have been impossible for the count not to notice it, though he disdained to let it be seen: hence he feigned to take the young man's rough and even brutal manner as natural and perfectly in accord with the manners of the country.
The Mexicans, let us hasten to state, are exquisitely polite, their language is always carefully chosen and their expressions flowery, and with the exception of the difference of dress, it is impossible to distinguish a man of the people from a person of high rank. Don Melchior de la Cruz, through a singular anomaly, doubtless emanating from his natural sternness, was perfectly different from his countrymen: always gloomy, thoughtful and reserved, he generally only opened his mouth to utter a few sharp words, with a coarse tone and in a rough voice.
From the first moment that they met, don Melchior and the count seemed equally little satisfied with each other: the Frenchman appeared too mannered and effeminate to the Mexican and, per contra, the latter repulsed the other by the coarseness of his nature and the triviality of his gestures and expressions.
But if there had been only this instinctive antipathy between the two young men, it would probably have disappeared by degrees, and friendly relations would have been established between them, when they knew each other better and could consequently appreciate one another's good qualities; but this was not the case, it was neither indifference nor jealousy that don Melchior felt for the count, but a hearty Mexican hatred.
Whence did this hatred spring? What unknown familiarity of the count had given birth to it? That was don Melchior's secret.
The young hacendero was completely wrapped up in mysteries: his actions were as gloomy as his countenance: enjoying unbounded liberty, he used and abused it as he pleased to the fullest extent by going in and out without accounting to anybody: it is true that his father and sister, doubtless accustomed to this behaviour, never asked him any questions as to where he had been, or what he had been doing, when he reappeared after an absence which was frequently prolonged for a week.
On such occasions, which were very frequent, he was usually seen returning at the breakfast hour.
He bowed silently to the company, sat down without uttering a syllable, ate, then twisted a cigarette, which he lighted, and then withdrew to his apartments without further notice of the party.
Once or twice don Andrés, who understood perfectly well how unpolite such conduct was towards his guest, tried to apologize for his son, by throwing the blame of this apparent rudeness on his very serious occupations, which completely absorbed him; but the count replied that don Melchior appeared to him a charming cavalier, that he saw nothing but what was perfectly natural in his mode of acting towards him, that the very want of ceremony he displayed