The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
when you put on your big voice and knit your brows, it is useless to do so."
"You are a madcap, Dolores."
"No matter. I should have liked to know why you assumed a false name for this journey."
"Oh! I have no objection to tell you that: my name is too well known, as that of a rich man, for me to venture to carry it across country when so many bandits are swarming on the roads."
"You had no other motive?"
"No other, my dear child: I believe that is sufficient, and that prudence urged me to act as I have done."
"Very good, papa," she replied, shaking her head with a pout: "but," she suddenly exclaimed, "I fancy, papa, that the carriage is slackening its speed."
"It is true," the old gentleman answered, "what is the meaning of this?".
He pulled down the glass and thrust out his head, but could see nothing: the berlin was at this moment entering the defile of the Cumbres, and the road made so many winds, that it was impossible to see more than thirty yards before or behind. The old gentleman called up one of the servants who rode close to the carriage.
"What is the matter, Sánchez?" the traveller asked. "I fancy we are not going so fast as before."
"That is true, señor amo," Sánchez answered, "since we left the plain, we have not been advancing so rapidly, though I do not know the reason: the soldiers of our escort appear alarmed, and are talking together in a low voice, while incessantly looking round them: it is evident that they fear some danger."
"Could the salteadores or guerillas who infest the roads think of attacking us?" the old gentleman said with ill-disguised anxiety, "Pray inquire, Sánchez—Hem! The spot would be capitally chosen for a surprise, still, our escort is numerous, and unless they have an understanding with the bandits, I doubt whether the latter would venture to bar our way. Come, Sánchez, cross-question the soldiers adroitly, and report to me what you learn."
The servant bowed, checked his horse to let the carriage pass him, and then prepared to carry out the commission with which his master had intrusted him.
But Sánchez caught up the berlin again almost immediately: his features were distorted, his panting voice hissed between his teeth which were clenched by terror, and a cadaverous pallor covered his face.
"We are lost, señor amo," he muttered, as he bent down to the carriage window.
"Lost!" the old gentleman exclaimed with a nervous tremor, and giving his daughter, who was dumb with terror, a glance charged with the most impassioned paternal love: "Lost! You must be mad, Sánchez, explain yourself, in Heaven's name."
"It is unnecessary, mi amo," the poor fellow stammered. "Here is señor don Jesús Domínguez, the chief of the escort, coming up: without doubt he will inform you of what is taking place."
"What is it? Better, on my soul, a certainty however terrible its nature, than such anxiety."
The carriage had halted on a species of platform, about one hundred yards square: the old gentleman looked out: the escort still surrounded, the berlin, but seemed to be doubled: instead of twenty horsemen there were forty.
The traveller understood that he had fallen into a trap: that any resistance would be madness, and that the only chance of safety lay in submission: still, as in spite of his age, he was endowed with a firm character and energetic mind, he would not thus allow himself vanquished at the first collision, and resolved to try and render his troublesome position as agreeable as he could.
After tenderly embracing his daughter, and recommending her to remain quiet and not interfere, whatever might happen, he opened the carriage door, and actively sprang into the road, with a revolver in each hand. The soldiers, though surprised at the action, did not make a move to oppose it, but remained immoveable in their ranks.
The traveller's four servants ranged themselves behind him unhesitatingly, with their rifles in readiness to fire on receiving their master's order.
Sánchez had spoken truly; don Jesús Domínguez was coming up at a gallop; but he was not alone, another horseman accompanied him.
The latter was a short, thick set man, with stern features and a sidelong glance: the reddish tinge of his complexion proved him to be a full blooded Indian: he wore the sumptuous uniform of a colonel in a regular army.
The traveller at once recognized this unpleasant personage as don Felipe Neri Irzabal, one of the guerillero chiefs of Juárez' party; he had met him twice or thrice at Veracruz.
It was with a nervous start and a thrill of terror that the old gentleman awaited the arrival of the two men; still, when they were only a few paces from him, instead of allowing them to question him, he was the first to speak.
"Hola, caballeros," he shouted to them in a haughty voice, "what is the meaning of this, and why do you thus compel to interrupt my journey?"
"You shall learn, my dear sir," the guerillero replied with a grin; "and in the first place, that you may know at once what you have to expect, I arrest you in the name of the country."
"Arrest me! You?" the old gentleman protested. "By what right, pray?"
"By what right?" the other repeated with his ill-omened grin; "Viva Cristo! I might, if I thought proper, reply that it was by the right of force, and the reason would be peremptory, I imagine."
"Certainly," the traveller replied sarcastically, "and I presume it is the only one you can invoke."
"Well, you are mistaken, my good sir; I do not invoke it, but arrest you as a spy, convicted of high treason."
"Nonsense, you are mad, señor Coronel. I a traitor and a spy!"
"Señor, for some time past the government of his most gracious Excellency, President Juárez, has had its eye on you; your movements have been watched; we know for what motive you so hurriedly left Veracruz, and with what object you are going to Mexico."
"I am going to Mexico on commercial business, and the President is well aware of the fact, as he himself signed my safe conduct, and the escort that accompanies me was graciously granted me by him, without my having the necessity to ask for it."
"All that is true, señor; our magnanimous President—who always feels a repugnance for rigorous measures—did not wish to have you arrested; he preferred, through consideration for your grey hairs, to leave you means of escape; but your last act of treachery has filled up the measure, and though he has been obliged to force himself to do so, the President recognized the necessity of acting vigorously against you without delay. I was sent after you with orders to arrest you, and this order I now execute."
"And may I know of what treason I am accused?"
"You must know better than anyone else, señor don Andrés de la Cruz, the motives which induced you to give up your own name and assume that of don Antonio de Carrera."
Don Andrés—for such in reality was his name—was startled by this revelation; not that he felt himself guilty, for this change of name had been effected with the assent of the President; but he was confounded by the duplicity of the people who arrested him, and who, for want of better reasons, even played this one to make him fall into an infamous snare, in order to seize on a fortune which they had long coveted.
Don Andrés, however, overcame his emotion, and addressed the guerillero once more.
"Take care of what you are doing, señor Coronel," he said; "I am not a nobody, and will not let myself be thus despoiled without complaining; there is at Mexico a Spanish ambassador, who will be able to procure me justice."
"I do not know what you mean," don Felipe answered imperturbably; "If you are alluding to señor Pacheco, I do not think that his protection will be very profitable to you; for this gentleman, who entitles himself ambassador extraordinary of H.M. the Queen of Spain, has thought proper to recognize the government of the traitor Miramón. Hence we of the other party have nothing to do with