Vasconselos
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ]ROMH YASCOiNSEL OS A *'ZLc& ~r1' ~5e~ ~ ~CE OF THE NEW WORL FRANK COOPER At In 'In Th 110 AND ife, mother,, child, I know not. My aflhirs- e servanted to others. Though I Owe revenge properly, my remission lies Volscian breasts. That we have been familiars, grate forgetfulness shall poison, rather mn pity note how much." CORIOLAtxs IREDFIELD 112 NASSAUT STREET, NEW YORI 1858 'Y(~ ~J D K BY page: 0[View Page 0] ENmRnD, according to th~ Act of Congress, in the year 1853, BY REDFIELD, 110 AND 112 NASSAU STREET. in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern T't4rict of New Y~ork. 0 TO DR. JOHN W. FRANeIS, My DEAR SIR: The la~t even house, the c6nvers which your expert very remarl~able and I trust, interest of some of the p hope, apart from 01 ume a certain degr torical rom ~nce, er gress, during a ver not despair of sec taste, as we well I cent, will n~tura1l~ to increase our fa episodes in Americ with pleasure what New York, Oct., OF NEW YORK. ng I had the pleasure of spending at your bion turned upon certain psychological topics, ace in science enabled you to illustrate in a manner. The great crime which gives eofor, to thi& romance, will probably remind you dnts discussed in that conversation. This, I her considerations, will confer upon this vol- ~e of attraction in your eyes. *But, as an his- ibodying a very curious and interesting pro- ~r ~striking period in modern discovery, I do Living your interest in the work, since your now, and your own resources as a reminis- incline you to a narrative which is meant miliarity with one of the most magnificent an History. May I hope that you will read I have written! r. C. 1. 1853. k. 0. JLtKINS, STr~RE0~YPRR AW PRINTfl~, 114 Nassau Street. page: 0-1[View Page 0-1] ich we ecious to us." ,MASSINGER. iy than histo- It is to fiction ig creations mmon to her ons, and pre- art ; and she 'ormances, as ch they were sions of this ~terner muse er offices are of things in lies those de- o commonly, however, it is fe'r to each of non purpose. ~ad their pos out violating, nig to endow VASUONSELOS Design us to, be warriors, and t( are environed ; and we, by for IT is the province of ry, to recall the deeds that we must chiefly k1 which history quite to service. The warm sent purposes, belong is never so well satisfit when she betrays the. dictated and endured character, that she s whose province she s not the less legitimat - general, than are thos tails which the latter, holds beneath her regal our purpose to slight then, in turn, as they r They both appeal to cu sessions beneath our e a material resources 0H AP T ER I. " Nature did break through our ring, the sea, by w me, must fetch in what is wanting, or pr romance, even more decid d nid adventures of' the past. ok for those living and breath infrequently deigns to su tmosphere of present emoti to the dramatis personce of d in showing us human perf assions and affections by wh It is in spells and posses -commonly supersedes the frequently invades ; and h ,as regards the truthfulness of history,because she supp unwisely as we think, but t rd. In the work before us, either agency. ~We shall de nay be made to serve a com ir assistance, and equally spre es. We shall employ,, with of the -Historian, while seek V I I 4 I page: 2-3[View Page 2-3] 2 YASCONSELOS. them with a vitality which fiction only can conft~r. It is. in pur- suit of this object t at we entleat the reader to suppose the back- ward curtain with rawn, unveiling, if only for a. moment, the aspects of a perio not so remote as to lie wholly beyond our sympathies. We propose to look back to that dawn of' the six- teenth century; at all events, to such a portion of the historical landscape of that eriod, as to show us some of the first sunny gleams of Europe n ligl'~t upon the savage dominions of the Western Conti.nen. To ~'eview this epoch is, in fact, to survey the small but im re~sive beginnings of a wondrous drama in which we, ourselves , are s ill living actors. The scene is almost within our grasp. The ames of the persons of our narrative have not yet cease from sounding in our ears; and the theatre of performance is c~ 'ic, the boards of which, even at this moment, are echoing beneal~h th& mighty footsteps. Our curiosity and ijiterest may well l~e awa ened for awhile, to an action, the fruits of which, in some egree, re inuring to our present benefit. It is just three h ndred years, since, in the spring season of the year of Grace, on thous nd five hundred and thirty-eight, the infant city of Hay na re wounded with the tread of one of the noblest bodies of S anish rivalry that ever ~et foot in our West- ern hemisphere. - at g y and gallant cavalierr, Hernando De Soto-equally the ourtie and the soldier-having won wealth, no less than fame,~ under Francis Pizarro in Peru, had now re- solved upon an ind~pende t enterprise, in another region, for him- self. This enterprise, in the extravagant expectations of that peri&T; promised tL be o~ even n~ore magnificent results than those of his grea predecessor and companion, already distin- guished by his soy reign ~s the Adelantado of Florida. Florida-that ondro s terra incognita, which, for so long a time, led the Euro ean' agination astray-our ambitious cava- lier, was ~iow busi d in making the grandest preparations for its oonque~t. A. tho sand soldiers, many of whom were of the noblest blood of pain a d Portugal, had assembled at Havana for this enterprise, swell' his train with a strength which prom- ised to make certain all is anticipations. More than one third THE SPANISH CAVALIER. of this brilliant C rce-for such it was, if we c small and ill-org nized bands which were us cient for the con ct with the Indian races of of cavalry ;-belt d knights, brave soldiers, a the wars of Mexi o and Peru, and young, hope blood, who had t eir fortunes to make, and I the last remains f their patrimony in the d enterprise, of the' steeds and persons. The re 1 men and arqueb iers,-.-men of tough sinews, as tough-rude, s dy, desperate, in doublets which were only not quite impenetrable to Well might the a bitious spirit of Jiernando de fident of success he reviewed his squadrons. their manly vigor, their ardent enthusiasm, the armor, the adimir ble horsemanship of ~iis cay to assure him of s future triumphs; iie~ther had been half so f unate in such an eq~pment tado, as he surve ed his forces, becam~ impat when he should da t upon the conquest which he as secure. Comp llecl, however, to await the getting ships and s res in readiness, he cidivene delay, by exercisin his, gallants in all the mi amusements in whi h they took delight. While by the policy of wi g to his banner the wealt of the island, he c eerfully encouraged h~s knigi to engage in all tho e exercises of chivah~'y whic beguile the affection s of the people. The days ~ consumed in tilts nd tournaments, bull-fights, a sports. The night were yielded to balls and which the victor of e morning but too common vanquished by the ceblest as well as fairest of Spaniard, naturally a person of parade and pox quently sacrificed th substance of a life to the si fancy loved. The sources of an entire house times exhausted in making gay the graceful figt cadet. Beauty necessarily strove, with equal ard( 3 mpare it with the fly deemed suffi- nericar-.-consisted ~9ady practiced in ii gallants, of high ho had expended ~orations, for this b were stout bow- and morals quite * quilted cotton, in Indian arrow. ~oto become con.. Their numbers, splendor of their hers-all tended rtez nor Pizarro and our adelan- Lent of the hour already regarded ;ardy process of 61 the interval of Litary and social in Cuba, moved Ii and enterprise ts and captains could possibly ere accordingly d other manly masquerades, in found himself his foes. The p, but too fre- adow which his ld were some- re of its young , to render her page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] 4 VA~C0~SELOS. taste and treasure appropriate auxiliaries to her natural charms; and thus it was that he bri~f interval during which our adven- turers lingered in the ~sland, after reaching it from Spain, passed like a dream of encha~rtment-one of those fairy tales of pleasure that '~e read of in tl~e romances of Arabia. But the time was fast approaching wher~ these gay scenes of pleasure-the relaxa- tions and the mimicry of war-were to give place to its absolute and hard realities. ~e arrangements oP our adelantado were at length nearly completed. The ships had taken in most of their stores, and two of t~em had been already dispatched with the view to a better exploration of the coast of Florida, and in search of a fitting harbor foi~ the dc~scent of The armament. But a few weeks-perhaps day~~would elapse, and the little city would sink into its ancient dullness and repose. The sad thought of separation from such delights as had been enjoyed by all parties, could only be diss pated by renewed efforts at enjoyment. (~loomy reflections ere o~ily to be banished by fresh indul- gences; and, duly, a the time lessened for delay, the plans and schemes for pleasure were hurriedly increased. The young dam- sels of Cuba put fo th all their attractions to arrest the fugitive hearts whose heroic~ fences had but too much touched their own; and more thar~ one brave cavalier was found to hesitate as the time drew nigh fpr his departure. His imagination painfully contrasted the pleasures which he enjoyed, with the toils and perils which were in prospect. Care and anxiety naturally fol- lowed such comparisons; and, though the sports of the island were not forborne until the armament had fairly taken its departure, yet were they felt t~ be rrjore or less deeply shadowed by the consciousness of the change which was at hand. ng was growW'g much less ~vely than at first-the tinkle of the guitar less frequent and nierry-'---the voice of the singer more su1~dued, while the tremulous sighs that mingled with its strain, and f~wnied '~ttrn accompaniment, bore evidence quite as its tender echo and frequently of the really saddened fancy, as of the beguiling artifice of the fair musician1 The cares of Her~rando de Soto were of a different character. Though wedded 1 Spain,-a prince charms,-it was fancies. Love s~ to rest by gratifl more particular] superseding all o swaying it with anxious to be g( which was calcul source of anxiety causes were freqi encouraged somei while diminishing and hesitation on with certain awk~ necessary that we that was irritable It is our fortune which found him favorite cavalier, private chamber General of Cuba, close conference was at this time of manhood, heal commanding in countenance dark Of noble family, the phrase, he ha conquest of Peru. be superior to th the use oflancea~ wonderful excelled ease and affluence Peru, but that the HERNANDO Dfl SOTO. o one of the most lovely of dame, of family qui~e as d not the tender passion w tisfied-the 4irly gush of y tion-and ambition, that st y inspires the bosom of hers, except avarice, took po little interruption or interv ne on his path of triumph ted to delay his departure and even bitterness. Of ent. The very sports~and lines embarrassed the toils his own resources, and the s the part of some of his favor ard domestic occurrences, a should glance in passing, r and unamiable in his temper to place him before our rea particularly ruffled by the r and the expected falling off f the Governor's palace,-for s well as Adelantado of Flo me of his chief advisers. Lbout thirty-six years of age, ;hy, vigorous, accomplished, g deportment; above the ml and animated, and with a la a gentleman "by all four yet gone forth as a mere ~ There he had proved his F se of birth; ranking next to II Tid sword, and particularly clisi ice in horsemanship. lie mi~ )n the wealth and reputation w] master passion of his soul foi 5 11 the beauties of ~stinguished as her nch disturbed his uthful ardor lulled r~er passion which he matured man, ~session of his soul, d. He was only and every event was an additional these delays, the measuress which he f his subordinates lows of reluctance ~e officers, together t which it is only ~ndered active all and deportment. ers at a moment ~iiisconduct of one another. In a he was Governor- 'da,-he holds in ernando de Soto n the very prime aceful in carriage, die height, of a ge and fiei~y eye. scentss" as was adventurer on the personal merits to izarro himself in anguished by his ht have retired in ~ch he acquired in bade the sacrifice page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] VASCQNSELO$. of endowments, of' st4ngth, skill and courage, which were too precious and too conspicuous to be consigned to inactivity. It was a fate that brought him nce more from his native country in search of greater stincti ns than he had yet acquired, in a perilous strife with the fierce natives that occupied the melancholy wastes of Florida. His companion, at t e moThent when we seek to present him to the reader, was a person of a very different mood and charac-* * ter. Don Balthazar d~ Alvar~ was a cold, dark, ~nd somewhat ostentatious hidaIgo,-~a man of passions rather more intense than fierce,-subtle, ye~ tena~ious,-capab1e of secret vices, yet equally capable of c~ncea]liig them,-a prudent man, in the worldly signification of the te4, yet a profligate in every better sense. But he outrag4~d few external proprieties. He had the cunning of the serpent, without the dove~ s innocence, find pos- sessed the art of hiding the fang and venom from discovery, even at the moment when h~ most harbored and prepared both facul- ties for use. He had 1%een for ten years a resident of the island, was a man of large esliates, and larger enterprises, with involve- ments more than cor~esponding with the former, and such as might well be s~uppo~d to follow from a somewhat reckless indulgence of the latt~r.~ He was now forty-five years of age, and remarkably erect ncl vigorous, had frequently distinguished N himself in war with th Indians, and it surprised nobody in that day that he should ea erly prepare to embark his fortunes with those of Hernando de oto. The pPblic voice imputed to him and other cavaliers no gher ambition in undertaking this enter- prise than the capture of such a number of red-men of the continent as would er~ able them to stock with slaves their vast landed estates in Cuha~ Don Balthazar was a widower, without family, save in the per~~n of a single niece, the only child of a brother, who, with his fife, had been dead for several years. The child had been thrown upon the care of her uncle from an early period. She was now seventeen, with considerable estates of her own, upon which it w~s shrewdly conjectured that her uncle had trespassed frequently~ ~nd with no light hand. She was as beautiful as young,-a tall,: features, a deep, d an expression of: rather to heighten We shall see and While the two apartment with an himself deeply ch evidently occupied of the two. Don the movements of with a sinister exp dissatisfied with tli moments played a to attract the notic ally in regard to ti "Methhiks, Do] chief! You forget that the Count d~ were a natural eW less honored by th\ say that she had th and that she should nature than to the' and if that fails, sh have had additional outrage on myself, made, that one of 1 the first to abuse wife's honor and m this expedition, woi lance and sword, a with his blood 1" "It is better that girl," was the reply one of the parties A DELICATE QUESTION. majestic woman, with pale but ark eye, full of tenderness ~ melancholy in heir countenan than disparage the eminent b iear more of her hereafter. cavaliers conferred together, II air of much vexation and anx ~fed with matters, the discus~ for some time before the tho~ Baltliazar kept in a sitting po~ Lils superior with eyes fliat so: session . This seemed to shov e annoyances of the other; out his mouth,-b~t these ~ ~ of De Soto, who broke into Le subject of his vexation. Balthazar, you make too 11 that it was to the particular 3omera confided his caught I ?-did he love her the less people under her father's go mother's weakness! All w 'eld when man persuades, is rice in he~ heart. Her security' fail also. But Leonora de secu 'ties in my household; a scarce y to be forgiven, wit] ny own trusted Lieutenants s these securities. It is a wr me own, which, but for the re :ld impcl The to punish the P ad compel him. to make the he should make atonement 1 of the other. "I trow, it sh ~t least." 7 highly expressive nd thought, with ~e, which seemed ~auty of her face. e Soto paced the [ety. He showed ~on of which had ghts and feelings ture; he watched netimes gleamed him not wholly slight smile at rere not allowed speech occasion- ght of this mis- care of my wife r. What if she ? Was she the ~ernment? You omen are weak; due rather to her ~ is in our justice, Bovadilla should rid I hold it as an any atonement ~iould have been ng done to my ~ponsibilities of ansgressor with last atonement y marrying the ill better please page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 VASCONSELOS. * "It shall please thc~m both ~ He shall marry her, or he makes of me such an enemy as shall make death itself a desirable release to him from punishffi~nt." "He is prepared fdr this," said the other. "Let your anger cool. Saving the off nee to yourself and your honorable lady, there will be no wrong done to the damsel. He will repair the breach in her conditio~'i, and make an honest woman of her; so that no one shall hav~ reason to complain. Nuno de Tobar is a free gallant. What l~e hath done hath not been of purpose, but in the warmth of a passion, that has ratfrer found its countenance in the easy nature ~f the damsel herself;-perhaps in her own willingness, "Nay; nay; I will not have it so, Don Balthazar," was the impetuous response o~ De Soto ;-" this is too much thy irrever- ent way of speakin~ where woman is concerned. The virtue and modesty of the Lady Leo~ora were above reproach." "Well, I mean n~t harm, ~your Excellency; we speak of women as we have found them. It has been your fortune to meet only with such s are pure; but I " "Let it pass, Seilo ," was the interruption. "Thou wilt see Nuno de Tobar, and each him my desires-my demands. Let him marry the Lad Leonora without delay. Myself and the Lady Isabella shall g ace the nuptials, which shall not be slighted. There shall be state in the arrangements, such as becomes the daughter of the Co de Gomera; such as becomes a lady in the guardianship of n~y wife. I will give him no countenance till this be done! I will ~'iot see him till the moment when he unites his hand with the maiden he hath wronged, under the sanction of the Holy Church." The, speaker was su~ldenly answered from another quarter,- "Alas! your Excellency, but the' offender must again trespass, and again rely upon your generous nature in the hope for par.. don," said the voice ~f a third person, who entered the door of the chamber at this n~oment. "How now, Sefior wast thou not forbidden this presence'?" demanded De Soto, angrily. The intruder was the offending TIlE DIFFICULTY SETTLE]~. 9 cavalier, Nuno d adelantKdo had I No more grace eyes of woman; air of a man cc entered the pre countenance, his ujjon the mood to the apologies "I have erre offence. I will pily, I can make "Thou wilt w "That were n it rather a rewar fer upon me a Lady Leonora h~ my heart exerek than lessens the* that, in giving m to my courage in the deep fore This was so was only tpo gi readiness of the more into favor train. "I have been has not meant to See, if thy lady-I ready to attend I of' the time when thine. Meanwhile be no needless hand." Some farther 1 Tobar, whose liaison with tI crined the subject of' the pr A or superb cavalier had evei and, as now, with a softened nscious of offence, and since sence of his superior, his fn noble though modest carria )f De Soto, and prepared hin f the offender. I," he continued, "and I cr aake all the amendment in n but little d with the Lady Leonora'?" Le fair charge of the ~ceding conference. found favor in the demeanor, with the ~iy regrettin~ it, he ink and ingenuous ge, insensibly won to listen patiently we ~rdon for my ty power.; Unhap- ) atonement, your highness, ~ince I shall esteem d for services yet to be perfo rize the most precious to m s suffered me to know what es upqn hers, rather commei alue which I set upon her. this lady, you offer the mos nd fidelity, in the progress ~ ts of the Floridian." racefully said that De Soto ~ d of the opportunity, thus al offender to repair his miscoi ne of the most accomplish ngry with thee, Nuno de Tc offend. Away with thee, th ye shall so readily forgive t hee to the altar. Thou sha, it shall please my wife to s ,prepare thee with all dispa elays in our expedition. C med, that you con- fancy. That the is the power which ds her to my love, believe nie, Senor, powerful motives hich lies before us, ras disarmed. He f'orded him, by the Lduct, to take once ed gallants in his bar, but thy heart ~n; I forgive thee! tee, in making her t be duly warned ~e thee wedded to bch, for there must ur departure is at conference ensued between the parties, and 8 9 page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 VASCONSELO$. when the young cavalier had left the presence, which he did with- otit rendering necessary the commands of his superior, De Soto resumed as follows: "This passeth my lWpe! I had feared a struggle with the hot passions of this youth~ Few men tole~'ate compulsion in aflivirs of love; still fewer the necessity of an alliance with the tl~ing they have dishonored. Strange that we should be so ~heedful of a stain which is of our own making: but verily such is man's nature. That Nuno d~ Tobar is so easy in this matter,-though it likes me as repairing the shame of the Lady Leonora, and re. living me of some of the trouble in my path,-yet somewhat lessens him in my fav~r. He seemeth to me rather heedless on the point of honor." "Nay, your excellei~icy is now unreasonable," was the answer of Don Balthazar; "~uno de Tobar is a philosopher somewhat after my own fashion. He hath made no large calculation upon the sex; therefore he shall not suffer greatly from experience hereafter. Thou wilt ~Io well to suffer him to see noAiminution of thy favor. Hast thou not declared him thy lieutenant-general? Wilt thou revoke thy trust? If thou dost, the offence were more grievous than the co~nmand which weds him to this damsel. That were not so readily forgiven. Tr~ist me, he is one to resent a wrong done t~ his ambition, where he might submit to one inflicted on his he~rt." "It may be so," was De Soto's answer to this suggestion, - "yet I have resolved that he goes no longer as my lieutenant- general. I think of this office for another. It shall certainly be his no longer. He shall win his way to favor ere he gains it. What thickest thou of Vasco Porcallo for this station ?" "Does he join the Axpedition ?" inquired the c~ther. "Will such an app~Antment fail to persuade him to the enter- prise? Such is the bait which I have passed before his eyes." "His treasures are ~n object, surely!" "He is brave also, and full of spirit." "But he is old and capricious! a single skirmish with the red- men will suffice for his ambition." "13 tellan easily for hi have De vices- and v~ to see firmin Porca lant y howe~ able ii we re~ ence 0 e it so; bi ceS will h~ recalled:. years; I een expei Soto had -the grea rtue of in the ar ~ the offic [lo de Fig lung cay er, was interest to erve our another 10 a. 11 REASONS FOR A CHANG t he shall have made his mv ye embarked in the expedit He may retire from toils ~ ut what shall restore him hi ded in the enterprise ?" made hi~ calculations shrc test-was avarice. This in s ambition. Don Balthazar ument of the adelantado, g o of lieutenant-general on the ueroa, and for deposing from who had so grievously off $~ dismissed, to give way to th the parties. But, for th ~lves for a fresh chapter, as ii of the persons of our drama. ~stments! His cas- on. These are not ~rhich are too great gold when it shall wdly. One of' his paired the dignity ~vas soon persuaded )od reasons for con- rich hidalgo, Vasco it the poor but gal~ ~nded. The subject, another of consider- o discussion of this, will need the pres- page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] CHAPTER II. "Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriment; Awake the pert and risible spirit of mirth; Turn melancholy forth to fur~eral; The pale companion is not for our pomp."-5HAK5PEAIW. "HAvE you sounded these' Portuguese brothers, as I coun. yelled you'?" was the ~qu~yof De Soto. The brow of Don Balthazar slightly darkened as he answered: "It is not easy to sound them. They are suspicious and re- sentful. The jealousies of our people have made them so; and you have been able to offer them no position. I should have preferred, were this possible, that one of them should have this very office you propose to confer upon Vasco Porcallo." "That is out of the question." "I feel it; and yet, beyond the hope of profit, which is felt by the commonest arquebusier in the army, what is the motive for the enterprise on the part of these brothers'? They are both young and noble-ambitious and full of valor. Their followers are few, it~ is true, but they will make good fight; and really, the abilities of the elder brother, Philip de Vasconselos, are proba- bly of greater valub than those of any of your cavaliers. The companion of De Va9a, he hath traversed all these wilds of Flori- da, and probably knoweth all the secrets of which De Va~a made such glorious boast and mystery Besides, he speaks and un- derstands the language of the natives; an advantage of which it is difficult to measure the importance. Of his valor and con- duct we have sufficient testimony of our own eyes, even if the evidence of other witnesses were wanting; De Va9a himself spoke of him as one of the most prudent and valiant ok his cavaliers." "Al of thy me fl 1 thems I terpris "'II' jealous disfavor "Th give th of this "Ye unwilli reason whom "A into th and o seen s thee, any th Portug~ Is't not The suggest contract silken the doc of' the peered, "Air inquiry voice 5( with th "To with tli this, I w mission'? ~, and th Ives dou ~y have es of cer r of the C .s alone s ~m com U doth it rig to pro ~ble, for bhey can d thou ha .s matter servation clearly, on Baitha t ever bi 1 have 104 so'? Do brow o on met h together arments r opened, adelantad with sho~ I permit of the nc ftly attur sweetest one who e virtues UNPLEASANT SUGGEST1~N. 13 t," answered the bther imp what mean they by the r change of mood which m' tful whether or not to pr spoken somewhat of the e am of our knights, to say mmon soldiers." iould show them how imposes and over our Spaniards. Ar iso afford sufficient reason ~eed in any enterprise with whom they will peril life an ~'xpect nothing in return." t gathered nothing further Hath nothing occurred t to add force to the difficult nd which thou hold'st so zar, hast thou not a niece, ssomed in bright Castile P ked upon the maiden with e' t thou not see it'?" he person addressed again s ears., His lips might be se He was about to speak wi V the entrance announced a moment after, for the adn * Both knights approach s of the most profound defe ed to attend these solemn ble lady as she passed into ti ed to the playful question, ar smiles. so admirably unites the wi of the other sex-the stren~ liently, "but what serve which seeks ~kes them declare ceed upon the en- rident dislike and nothing of the rude ble it would be to they not satisfied hy they should be ompanions so un- fortune, and from E~rom thy inquiries thy own thought 4y which thou hast eightyy? Rethink ~ damsel lovely as These knights of es oflove'? Ha! darkened as this n more closely to 'en the rustling of new visitor; and mission of the lady her as she ap- ence. councils '?" was the e apartment; her d her lips parting dom of the one, th and dignity of 18 page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] 14 YASCONSELOS. manhood with the grace and loveliness of woman-counsel her- self must willingly incline her ear. We were foes to wisdom / did we refuse to hearken to the words of her best favorite." The stately~compliment, so perfectly Spanish, was from the lips of Don Balthazar, upon whom the lady smiled mos!~ sweetly, not wholly insensible, it would seem, to the honeyed flattery. "Now, verily," exclaimed De Soto, who beheld the expres- sion in her face; "now, verily, hath this politician won thy whole heart by the silliest speech. He is like the cunning knave who possesseth counterfeit castellanoes, who, knowing their just worthlessness, yet circulates them for the value which they de- rive only from the ignorance of him who receives. He hath put his copper trinket upon thee, and will look for the golden one in return, even as we look to our Floridian savage fbr the precious metals, in exchange for others, which are as dear to his eyes, as despicable in ours. Is it not so,. my lady? And yet, if thou art thus easily put upon, what shall be my security, leaving the government of Cuba in thy hands?" "Oh! fear nothing, my lord; I shall ere long become schooled in all the subtleties of thy~'politicians, so that thy government shall have fio wrong during thy absence. Be not deceived, my good lord, in the supposed estimate which our sex makes of the flatteries of thine. We receive the coin that thou offerest, not because we overvalue it or esteem it very highly, but simply as we know that it is quite too commonly the most precious which ye have to offer. Were sincerity one of the virtues of the man, we should perhaps never listen to his flatteries; but it were un- reasonable to reject his false tokens, when we know that such constitute his whole treasure; and we receive the tribute of his lips only in the absence of all better securities lodged within his heart. It is something of an acknowledgment, in behalf of our authority, that he is solicitous to show the devotion which he has not always the nobleness to feel." "Ha! Senior Balthazar, we gain nothing by this banter. Our lady knows that our gold is copper. It is for such only that satisfied to the p if there need to orange, persons, of Don as much Balboa, success of herfa and pass She ~05 is due t power a berofh thought, devolve was abou gress, to bition. making 1~ sit. Sh so well sufficient the wom r out up with shar ame me~ t I might ~ril of th~ be nothii sound U Loble lad' race pecul i~om whiel not actua it, and tc Pedrarias by his cri bhe discov ,Jsabella their's cha ion which ~essed th~ o the hui id good fi rsex; c~ with a ix upon her t to leav( hich he e had fo s prepare rilE ADELANTADO'S WIFE. 'ewdly spoken, by my faith; id, in reply, why receive the its worthlessness, unless it one sex upon the other, re ;ly precious, (though worthle )fl thee for a heathen savage ning Don Balthazar with his with the pleasure I feel in ~ou wert fairly on thy march play the tyrant in thy gov insolent sex! But proceed g unfit for the ears of the e depths of all thy policy sovereign in thy place her~a speaking playfully, had, ir larly her own, sunk down uj Dor~ Balthazar had risen t~: ly born in tl'~e purple, wer~ wield authority with sweetie Davila, a man distinguished, el treatmentt of the famous rei' of the Pacific, as by his de Bobadilla, inherited the] acter, without those taints ha# rendered him odious am t happy prudence which ne vanities and the affections ii rtune. She was wiser than m in the hour of trial, full ( md quite equal to the gove: and with a heart devoted herfor a protracted season i as induced by the single pe nd her an admirable counsel tions for the expedition; an 15 and yet it might counterfeitt at all, ~ere that the de- dered any gift of ;s in itself,) in the Thou art not tribute, but thou receiving it at his among theiFlori- rnment of Cuba, to thy councils, woman. I have in other respects, if er." the meanwhile, on the divan of receive her. Few so well endowed s. The daughter unhappily, quite asco Nunez de own deeds and ride and dignity f vindictiveness ng his inferiors. er forgets what the moment of he greater num- f provident fore- nment about to to that lord who .a perilous pro- Irsuasions of am- ~lor and ally, i~t in penetrating (1 page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 yASCONSELOS. his chamber of council without a summons, she was yet satisfied, from past experience, that her presence in such a place was never wholly unacceptable or unprofitable! When, therefore, she declared her pleasure to remain, unless the topics under discussion should prove ungracious in the hearing of her sex, the ready answer of her husband entreated her to do so, whilst assuring her against the exception which she expressed. "Nay, Isabella," said he; "it particularly concerns thy sex, that of which we are t~ speak, and much of what has been spoken. Know then, in the first place, that thou art to prepare thy lovely handmaid, the damsel Leonora, for her nuptials with Nuno de Tobar." "Thou hast then adjusted that matter '?" said the lady, with a grave accent and demeanor. "It is settled, and without anger or difficulty. It is for thee to decide upon the hour of the bridal. Let it be soon, for we must have dispatch, and advise with the damsel ere the day be sped. But there is yet another matter connected with thy sex which troubles me, and prevents my purpose. Their mischievous influ- ence hath been at work upon my bravest cavaliers. Thou knowest these two ~roung knights of Portugal. I need not tell thee of their w~rth, their valor, and the great importance to the expedition of the elder brother, Philip de Vasconselos, who hath already sped over all the territory of the Floridian, and is fami- liar with the heathen speech of its people. Now, it so happens that these two young gallants grow indifferent to the enterprise. They have held themselves somewhat aloof from me of late, and words have been heard to fall from their lips, which declare their doubts whether they will accompany the expedition, as was their purpose when they joined our armament at Seville." "And canst thou not guess the reason for this change of pur- pose V' demanded the lady, with a smile. "Ay, verily L Thy smile tells me that I am right in ascribing their fickleness of purpose to the persuasions and artifices of thy sex. Our grave Seiior, Don Balthazar de Alvaro, will have it due only to the jealousies of our Spaniards, with whom these men in thi disco ambit the L "It Balth if wit their scarce "A Isabel -as have strengi en Ca' names against niece" Do lantad to me the de dulgen knight "B a child affairs thou su wishes worth "Ab thazar. incline )f Portug~ ~, double~ irage such jous of we ~dy Olivia may be ti ~zar, intern i displease eyes in ti ly the proi nd where a. "The e know- ot wealt h, courage hays,' e~ famous. the devo * Balthazai took up .ou hast fo of no sma ~ision of t] than th~ of Portu t I am enteen k of the af rely wilt of thy fli nd noble but I k "I see n to either d find but little favor. Somc 5; but, I trow, it would ne young gallants, known for ~lth and distinction, were it n( his fair niece,-.---." iat thou art right in thy cox opting the speaker, his brow re; "but it will profit them ie direction of my niece. ( ~er game for either of. these kn are, Senor?" was the quick ~e are brave and honorable g a family as noble as any ii E~, it is true, but they hay ~, and enterprise, which in th( ~erywhere achieve wealth, s I see not why you should Ion which they seem dispose trod the floor in a stern sile] bhe words,- rgottcn another matter, my k 1 import in this case. If I n~ ie Lady Olivia herself will s ~t of her guardian, in relati guardian, your excellence, a: a goodly age for female ju sections " was the answer of iot oppose the authority of ti ~ce, when these fasten upon Less there can be no question. ~ow not that," was the quick: ot-I believe not-that the f these Portuguese adventure 17 thing there may be Ter be sufficient to their bravery, and t for the charms of lecture," said Don again darkening as ittle that they turn ~livia de Alvaro is ~ghts of Portugal." inquiry of Doila ntlemen, both; of Portugal. They ~ the qualities of se days of 'Gold- nd make obscure so sternly resolve d to offer to your ice, while the Ade- dy, which seemeth mistake not greatly, irely be more in- n to these young id my niece is but ilgment, Senor, in the lady. "But' Le guardian to' the person of whose * eply of' Don Bal- ifections of Olivia I DISAGREEMENT OF OPINI~N. page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 VASCONSELO~. "Deceive not thyself, Se~ior," said the Lady Isabella. "Men are seldom the best. judges of such matters, especially where they are grave senators and busy politicians. You have quite too many concerns to demand your study-tOo many cares of business and fortune to suffer you to give much heed to the ten~. dency of a young and feminine heart. I claim to understand it better, and I tell thee; Sefior, that if ever woman loved cavalier, with all her soul, and with all her strength, then doth Olivia de Alvaro love this elder knight of Portugal, whc~ni they call Philip de Vasconselos." "I believe it not! You are deceived, Lady Isabella. I am sure that such is not the case. But if it were, I should be false to the duties I have undertaken to suffer her indilnations to have sway in this. This Philip de Vasconselos may have his virtues; yet what is he but a b~garly adventurer, who has squandered his birthright in wanderings where the better wisdom has always succeeded in \acquirii~ig it ?" "Not ah~ays, Se~ior, unless old proverbs fall us. The best wisdom is but too commonly the last to secure* the smiles of For.. tune. Have not your poets made her feminine, and with twK fold sarcasm made her caprices to resemble ours? Say th~y not, that he is most apt to win her favor who less ~oes for, a~d less deserves it; and shape they not their sarcasm~~in such wi~e as to salve the hurts of self-esteem, by recognizing he propriety of that favor which provides for him who would never be able, of his own wits, to provide for himself?. You shall do no slander to this knight of Portugal, Philip de Vasconselos, who, verily, is a man of thought as well as of valor. I have enjoyed his wis- dom with a rare delight, and if his valor keep any rate of pace with his judgment, he should be a famous leader in ~uch adven- ture as that on which. ye go. For the younger brother, ii can scarcely. speak so favorably. He seemeth at once less wise and more presuming. He speaks as one confident in himself; and I should deem him quite as rash and ill..advised as, valiant ;-nay more, he hath the manner of a man whom small griefs unreason- ably inflame,-whO is irritable of mood, suspicious of those about him, jealou of too ~ittle faith self. I~ut it is no fancy, l~ut little ci is evident he hath elder b~'other." "Wl1iat sayest concluded. "Willat should somewhat dogged] She wi~l not, I t opposing~ it with h "W4l she not' shall see, Sefior, Bethink you, it is forego her judge. she shall make for love which she feel mines her existence all this. Submissi lute and strong; a dove only, shall, , assume the fierce Olivia de Alvaro 1 you shall not say i your wilL" "It m~iy be," wa ened, but a siniste though scarce perez chafed beyond his ~ "Verily, Seilor angered you. Yoi surely right. The certainly as that P1 thou wilt be wise T]~E DOV]~ AND TH~ FALCON. of the good fame of his coi in others to be altogether wc t of him that we need to ~l lance of success with our fair a passion for her quite as eai 19 ipanions, and one thy of faith him- eak. He hath, I cousin, though it a~st as that of his thou, Seilor?" demanded Do Soto, as his wife ii say, your excellence," r y,----" save that my niece is ink, gainsay my judgment i ~r own." " demanded the lady, with who better understands the ipon no ordinary matter thai ~t. The fate of woman is in or against her heart. her ~ 5; and this denied, or this She hath a rare instinct ~ ye in all other respects, she rid she whom you knew for r hen the heart demands such courage of the falcon. Be] yes this knight of Portugal; .ay to her desire, and find] ~ the answer of the other, his ~ smile at the game moment eptible to those about him. ront, was still apparent. I3althazar," said De Soto, " will do well to bear it calmi heart of thy niece hath mad ilip 'de Vasconselos hath resol ~o p~it on a friendly counten ~plied the latter, in ny keeping? ~i this matter by a smile. "We heart of Woman. you ask her~ to he resolve which hole life is in the possessed, deter- which teaches her grows reso.. iany seasons the vill and courage, ieve it Qr not,. and so loving, LO resistance to brow still dark- curling his lips, That he was this thing hath y. Our lady is its choice, as on ~s; and ince when they page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 VASCONSELOS. come J~o declare their desires. Thou wilt se rcely find a nobler cav~a1ier in all Spain upon whom to bestow er fortune." "And will you that I should encourage a passion which will tend to baffle thy own desires ?" demanded Don Balthazar. "How so,.-What meanest thou ?" was the inquiry of De Soto, who looked the alarm which he really felt. "See'st thou not that the bridal of Philip de Vasconselos with Olivia de Alvaro is conclusive against his progress with the expe- dition'? With her estates in Cuba to occupy his thoughts,-with her wealth in which to luxuriate,-wherefore should he incur the peril of the Floridian enterprise ?" "And wherefore should my lord himself incur such peril, Sefior Balthazar ?" was the quick and ~energetic reply of the lady. "Hath he not estates in Cuba, a government to demand his care, and wealth enough with which to procure all the luxuries of the island? Yet he will leave all these-he will leave me, but lately his newly-wedded bride-and one, I trow, not wholly without hold ~upon his heart-and go forth upon adventures of incomparable peril. But this 1~elongs to the passion of a knightly ambition-a generous impatience of the dull paces of the common life ;-an eager and noble appetite after conquest, and the glory which it brings! Of this same temper, seems to me the ambition of this knight of Portugal, who hath been regardless of wealth only as he hath been heedful of honor,-and whose pride it is rather to win a glorious name, than a golden habitation. Thou shalt not disparage this quest, Seiior, since it is one which is ever precious in the sight of :a generous knighthood." "You speak it bravely, my lady; but shall not persuade me that this knight of Portugal would wed my niece only to depart from her. He shall need some time after the nuptials, ere his ambition shall assert itself. His love of distinction will doubt- less bring him after the adelantado-bilt with slow footsteps, and when his lance shall be no longer needful to success." "This is, indeed, a matter to be thought on, Don Balthazar," was the reply of De Soto, looking gravely, and evidently touched FAMILY TROUBLES. by the suggestion f' the other. "There is sure thou hast spoken. I had not thought of this be The interruptio of the Lady Isabella was aim "Nor must yo think of it now, my Lord, should move you to encourage Don Baithazar the affections of s niece. Doubtless, the lo knight will be so ewhat felt by you in this e easily understand he value of such a lance, and to his particular e perience with the Floridian. things justify a ong done to fond hearts that ness? Are the a sections of so sweet and te Olivia de Alvaro to be set at naught, because bition? Let us be just and generous, my 1 young people way! Let them be happy, if the love. That they do love, I see,-I am sure. blindness of Selior Balthazar which will not su we do ;-a strange blindness which refuses to knight, a noble and a fitting husband for his ni not move him to be friendly to their desires, let him in an opposition which I foresee will be o unwise. "Fruitless !" exclaimed Don Baithazar, with smile. "We shall see. We shall see "hear me yet farther, Don Reman, n~ There is one process by which to test the stre knight's passion. If his love shall falter in the ambition, then I shall rather glad me that Oli his regards. You owe to these good people of ceremonials ere taking your departure. There imposing display of your power, at once to r tion, and to confirm your authority, during yo feeble hands. Order a splendid tournament f~ preceding your departure. Let there be'prize I and beauty to bestow. Spare nothing that s ~ utmost the chivalrous ambition in your follo things be done, as it were, to furnish a forecast y reason in what ore." * St instantaneous. s a thing which in his hostility to s of this young petition. I can that which is due But shall these merit only fond.. ider a woman as f thy or my am- )rd. Give these r may, in mutual It is a strange er him to see as ee in this young bce. If we may us not encourage ly as fruitless as somewhat bitter gracious lord. th of this young struggle with his a goes far from iba some special ~eds a still more yard their dove- i' absence, in my w an early day ror valor to win, dl kindle to the ers; and let* all of the treasures 21 page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 VASCONSELOS. and the achievements which await the valiant among the heathen. There ~hall be sharp trials of skill and strength among your knights, and those of Portugal shall not be wanting. Build upon this for the temptation~ which are to confirm them in their first purpose of exploring and conquering the golden cities of the Floridian." "Now hath Dofia Isabella counselled truly, as hath ever been her wont," said Don Balthazar, eagerly seizing upon a suggestion which promised somewhat, however vaguely, to assist in extri-. cating him from a difficulty which, it was evident to his superior, was one of unusual annoyance. "Both of these brothers," lie continued, "cherish an eager anx- iety for distinction in tilt and tourney. Thus far, they have suf- fered no sports of this character t~ escape them; and one which shall make an event in Cuba long to be remembered with wonder and delight, shall surely reawaken in their bosom all their most earnest appetites for fame. Let them but draw the eyes of all cavaliers upon themselves in this tourney, and they shall scarcely, through very shame, be enabled to escape the necessity of joining in the enterprise. "It shall be done," said De Soto, with the air of a man sud-. defily relieved from his -anxieties. "Thou hast counselled, my lady, with as just a knowledge of our sex and its vanities, as of thine own and its sympathies. And now for the plan f this tournament. We shall need for this, not only thy help, efior Balthazar, .but that also of that scape-grace, Nuno de obar. We have taken him to favor at the proper season.~~ The difficulties of the discussion were fairly at an end The plans for ~the future festivities nced not call for consid ration now. CHAPTER III. "She's safe enough a~ home, And has but half her wits, as I remember; The devil cannot juggle her from my custody: .--SHRLEY. THE day was consumed before Don Baltha4r de Alvaro was released from his duties near the person of th~ adelantado. It had been, with the former, a day of protracted~ toil, not without certain accompanying tortures. The tortures,~ however, did not exactly follow from the toil. On the contrary , he could have pursued the former, not only without the slight st feelings of an- noyance or inconvenience, but with an elastic ity and sense of~- satisfaction, the natural consequence of his deep sympathy in the objects of the expedition. His tortures belon ed entirely to a subject, the annoyances of which, to him, were ot by any means suspected by De Soto or his noble lady. Littl did they fancy the deep and peculiar disquiet which Don Balth zar suffered from any allusion to the probability of his niece's ma riage. Had the lover been any other~ than the knight of Portu ak-had he been the most unexceptionable parson in the world the case would not have been altered. He would still have foun a stern hostility in the uncle of the lady, for which no reasons o ordinary policy could possibly account. But Don Balthazar had the strength of will to conceal fronui his superior, as from all others, the degree of ncern which he felt in relation .to this subject. His experience and indurated nature knew well how to clothe itself; exter ally, in the gar- nients of a rugged indifference, or of a pulsele s apathy. But he suffered not the less in secret; and, with the release from the restraints of that companionship throughout th day, which had fettered his secret feelings, th~y broke out in depression of cor- page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 follow him VASCOKSELOS. with the adelai responding force with the pressure that had been laid upon Let us after a long conference he took his way, at the approach of evening, toward the hr solitude of his own habitation. Thi~s was situated in one of the loneliest, as well as the 1 est, of the suburbs of the infant city. The retreat was c which love and ambition might equally delight to meditate one on human sympathies, which are always sweetly asso with the beauty and innocence of nature-the other upon I hope and prospects in the future, which present posse princely and beautiful, might naturally suggest to the fierc and the grasping, eager temperament. The site of the habi of Don l~althazar was happily found upon a gentle emi~ which afforded equal glimpses of the city and the sea. It~ zon was only circumscribed by its trees,-fruita~e and flp~ an excess of which the best taste, in a warm climate, woul it difficult to complain. The air that breathed balm ever its atmosphere-the breeze swelling at frequent periods fr tributary seas-the chirp of innocent insects, and the sc uncaged, but never wandering birds-were all suggestive condition of the dolce far niente of the fatal tyranny of wh sage and moralist dilate in warning exhortation ever,, which they are always most ready to submit with pleas to remember with regret and yearning. Fruits of every li variety, flowers of the most golden and glorious hues ai fumes, vines and leaves of all most grateful descriptions,] nized with this happy empire, where the passions, whether ing or triumphant, might here find themselves at home shadiest palms, and other trees of equal verdure and fra~ compensatedd for the absence of grandeur and sublimity, indeed, must have been inconsistent with the peculiar m such an abode. The attractions of this sweet seclusion ~w wholly confined to the gift~ and attributes of nature. Th4 of art had been made tAbutary, in high degree, to he~ wants. The sire of the Lady Olivia, who had left it for h~ in the keeping of his brother, had ~nade it after the fashion: DON BALTHAZAR'S 1~ETRi~A I hem. tado, writing veli- e in the iated roud sions will ation ence, hon- ers in find rough m its ~'g of f that ch the et to e, and scious d per- armo- roop- The rance, which, ral of re not hand virgin child, of his 25 own nature, which was meek in its desires, and a worshipper of the graceful, the peaceful and the beautiful. Th~ luxuries of such an abode were doubly refined and spiritualizes to the soul of taste, by the sweet repose, the delicious security which hung, as with a veil, over the partial solitude. ~At a little distance lay the white dwellings of the infant city, the voices of its daily toil and struggle rising only as a faint and pleasant murmur, most like the sweet chiding of distant billows ona rocky shore. The sea, at a like distance, had also a pleasant music for the dwellers in this forest home, Where, through long and complicated avenues of greenest foliage, the fond and contemplative spirit might make its way, with just enough of the consciousness of life for pleasure, and not enough of its toils and apprehensions for anxiety or care. Here, then, with few attendants, and but one companion, the subtle, the mercenary, and sleepless politician, Balthazar de Al- varo, made his abode. Hither he took his way, with slower foot- step than was his wont, after separating from the adelantado. He had run a sort of gauntlet of inquiry, as he emerged from the presence of De Soto, and made his way through the city, by which his mood had undergone no peculiar sweetening. Rut it was admirable to witness thQ strength of a much exercised and well-trained will, in subduing the outbreaks of a temper which had suffered a series of most painful provocations throughout the day. He could smile graciously as he replied deferentially to his equal; nor was he wanting in a certain kind of smile, when he answered the inquiries of his inferior. The necessities and ob- jects of De Soto required much exercise of the arts of concilia- tion on the part of his associates; nor was Don Balthazar Want- ing in that policy which teaches that none are too humble to be incapable of harm in season-none too worthless for use in cer- tain periods. He traversed the interval between the dwelling of the adelantado and his own, vexed at every step in his progress, yet without betraying his vexation to the most worthless spectator. It was only when he reached the secure shelter of hi~ Own 2 I I I, I page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] VASOONS1~LOS. grounds that he, gave freedom to his real emotioflS. Thre himself upon the earth, at the foot of a noble palm, whict encircled by a dense thicket of tributary vines and shru~ yielded to speech a portion of the troubles which had we hitherto in silence upon his 'mind. ~ "Now, out upon this fortune, that seems ever bent to me on the rack of fear. You put your foot upon one and another springs up from its seed. A thoi~sand times ~ flattered myself that a~ was safe-all sure; but even in feeling of exultation the doubt, the dread, has thrust its h face before my own, grinning and giving at me, 'with t1~ petual threat of overthrow and exposure. These knigi Portugal are the black dogs that hunt upon my heels. W could brain or bane them both! Are they, as De Soto a lady think ?-is he, rather, this Philip de Yasconselos, a to be feared? Has he, indeed, won his way to that heart no! Olivia de Alvaro cannot soon forget-cannot hidi sight-from fear, if no other more grateful feeling, those ries-that co~isciousness~~~which utterly forbid that she become the 'yvife of this or of any man-unless, indeed, utter depravation of naturF, and the utter scorn and aband' of the world. And where would such a condition, for h the faith and homage of this Philip de Vasconselos? Ye~ not deceive myself. She is no longer what she wa~ dreams-she dotes-she weeps-she has no voice for soli 'who sung ever, and scarce had any other passion, broods, to utter forgetfulness of the things around her-si could sing, or sin, before, without any thoughts of this~ other world. It may be as they think. What then? ~ have way? Shall this knight of Portugal have way she wed with him, or with any, to my ruin and disgrace no! It is but to ask the question to find the answe here-it is here-either in my dagger, or in that of one as mine own I" Such was the soliloquy, lie clutched the -handle of pon as he spoke, and half drew it from the sheath. ~ring was s, he ghed reak uger, ave I e full eous per.. ts of uld I d his er~on -but from emo- should in the nment r, find letme She g,-she i~nd she e, who or any all she Shall ? No! Itis s ready'~ s wea~ But he THE FATHER'S 5OLILOQUy. 27 thrust it back a moment after, drew his cap above his eyes, and stretched himself along upon the sward, with his face downward. Here he lay in complete silence, and scarcely stirring, the full space Qf half an hour. Meanwhile, the day waned. The sun - was at his setting, and the night birds began wheeling, with faint shrieks, about the place whei'e he seemed to slumber. But slumber was not upon his eyelids, or in his thoughts. It was not his necessity just then. He rose, at length, with the deliberation - of one who has recovered the fhll sway over all his moods, and, adjusting his garments, prepared to move towards his dwelling, which was still at some distance, and hidden 'wholly from his eyes by the sinuosity of the avenues, and the denseness of the thicket. But he paused more than once on his progress, and, more than once, did words of brief soliloquy break from his* lips. "At least, I must soon know all. There must be an explana.. tion. I must fathom her secret. I must probe her heart to its core. If that be safe-4f she be what she hath been sufficiently trained to be-what such training indeed should have made her,~" and a grim smile passed over his features as he spoke,-" then this Philip d~ Vasconselos can do no hurt. Let him live. He will scarcely linger here. But if there be sentiment in her bosom, newly born and from his agency, such as I would have trampled out, if need be, in blood and fire,-.----.a sentiment hostile to my hold upon her-then must I strike,-.-.strike fatally,~and crush the danger in its very bud. But, I must penetrate her secret. She hath grown subtle of late,.-..-that is an evil sign. It is enough that she katl& a secret, and from me. That alone is significant of danger! Doth her reserve signify distrust of me? Ha! what else? Do her tears manifest a feeling for another? Then is~it a proof that she holds me in hate and loathing. I must search, fathom this mystery, and be as swift and stern as I am vigilant !" This speech was not spoken all at once, but in snatches, during his walk, md each soliloquy compelling his momentary pause. In this ~nanner he went forward, his features and manner becona.. page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 vAsGO1~ELOS. mom and more composed as he approached the dwell Ai~ length the cottage and its 'gay verandahs opened before Ii and he paused as he caught a glimpse of his niece, where she d~ami1y reclining, empowered in the grateful shades of the tr~es by which the dwelling was surrounded. Olivia de Alvaro, as we now behold~her, her form dispc at ease, stretched on ample cushions, in the airy recesseS of verandah, would seem, from the half-shut eye, and the am motionless attitude in which she lay, to have been wrapt in most grateful slumbers. She was evidently unconscious of rays of the fast disappearing sunlight, which shot, faint and k~nly, through the intervening foliage. She was a pale, p' beauty, one whose high and aristocratic features seemed scar consistent with that despondency of mood and dependency o ture, which have been described as her present character~ ]~Ler features were not regular, but there wa~ a strange ham between them nevertheless; the lofty brow, corresponding with the distinctly rounded chin,-the large and well-fm nose, and that 'drooping darkness of the Moorish eye,' whic we know,-though it may slumber long in cloud and shado is still capable of such sudden lightuir~s as consume at the ~ flash. We have already described her as very young-sca more than seventeen ;-but this youthfulness was not marks~ the usual frankness-the uncircuni~pect and exuberant flo~ that period. Her countenance was marked by an earnest an intensity of gaze-and expression, which denoted a mature, thought and feeling quite beyond her years. It is surprisin~ rapidly one lives, who has learned to feel, and been made t fer. Yet what had been the sources of suffering in her'? beautiful, well-beloved, what were the cares of Olivia de A~ by which she had grown so singularly mature'? This we ascertain in feature pages.. Enough, if now we continue tl~ cription of her person. She was tall, and of commanding figure and demeanor., features, significant 9f so much sweetneSs and beauty, we~ marked by a tremulous and timid sadness of gaze, whic~ '4' ig m. ay all sed the ost the the ro- oud ely na- tics. ony ell ed as gle cely by of ness, y of ho~ o suf- Rich, Lvaro, must ~ des Her e yet 1 con OLIVIA DE ALVA.RO. 29 ~reyed the impression of a sense of awe, compelling her fears, and depressing her elasticity. This expression, particularly at those moments when she seemed to become forgetful of every other presence, commended her to sympathy, rather than offended pride. There could be no jealousy of her superiority, in the evi- dent feeling of apprehension which she displayed. A vague sense of danger seemed to accompany the consciousness of her charms; and the effect was rather to humble and subdue all the loftier indications that were yet inseparable from the graces of her manner, and the conscious nobility of blood and beauty. To these she was by no means insensible. Her carriage was such as shoWed an habitual appreciation of all her possessions; yet so modifi d as to make nature more conspicuous than habit in her demean r. The heart of a young damsel naturally, and very soon, be omes sensible of the beauties of her person. Her mirror, and t e common language of society,. read equally in speech and m nner, soon teach her all the value of her charms. But a refined aste renders it impossible, if she really should be attractive, that she should escape this conviction. It is her merit when she does not presume upon her possessions, and is modestly content in th& enjoyment. It is in due degree with the devel- opment of her intellect, and the experience of afflictions, that she schools her var4ty. That Olivia del Aivaro had, in large measure, learned to tuto~' hers, might be ga1~hered from many indications. That she was ~ot insensible to her own charms, was equally evi- dent from the 4xercises in which she employed them. Few dam- sels knew so w~11 how to train the glance, to give variety and play to the expressive muscles, and the pleasing, persuasive action; to sub 4 ue to sweetness, and the most touching tender- ness of tone, th~ murmurs of the obedient voice; to mak the fingers speak, a~ with an endowment of their own, and to inform, with a nameless, but most winning flexibility, every move~nent of the well-regi4lated and exquisitely symmetrical figure. ~[Jalf sitting, half reclining, in the western verandah of the dwelling, her eyes vaguel~r pursuing the soft and fluctuating Play of the eve- ning sunlight, t1~at stole 'in golden droplets, as, it were, through page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 8O~ VASCONSBLO~. BEAUTY'S MEDITATIONS. 81 the slightly waving leaves of the ana~na and the orange, she~ appeared wholly regardless of the timid brightness that sprinkle~ as with fairy eyes, the apartment all about her feet. She seen~ to muse m far delicious fancies, that made her wholly unc~ scious of the actual world in which she lived. Her person, uii strained by any human presence, had naturally subsided into attitude equally graceful and voluptuous; and this was altogeI~ the unstudied action of a grace, which, natural always, had~ always recognized in art only the appointed assistant, the ti~ woman and handmaid, of the imperial nature. Her dark, gld hair, hung.upon her shoulders, from which jt descended in wa but massive tresses. The art which had, withoutt an effort, posed their flowing and magnificent folds, ~ad never been successful in removing all proof of its own adorning fin Slightly stirred by the fitful zephyrs of an afternoon in May, season which, in Cuba, recognizes the perfect presence of the hosomed summer, her ringlets played' upon her neck like y birds, for the first time conscious of their wings, yet still flul ing, timidly and fondly, about the parent nest. And thus reclined, clad in robes of '~#hite, slightly trimmed with blue' orange, seemingly unconscious of all things but those which -~ deeply hidden in her thoughts, at the moment when Don Balth drew nigh to the dwelling. The shrubbery had enabled him to approach unseen, within a few steps of the verandah. He could detect the fain ~ outline of her person through the leaves of a gorgeous or~ beneath which he stood silently beholding her. She dreamed f his presence. His footstep had been carefully set down, riot to disturb her; and thus unsuspected, he stood, for a fe~ ments, watching her with a singular and intense interest. J thus keen and concentrate the gaze which the fascinating sei fastens upon the unconscious bird that flies or flutters in his It was not malignity or hostility that was apparent in the ex sion of his eyes. Nay, to the casual spectator, there might seeinc~d fondness only, in the keeii and earnest interest, ~ seemed to study her every feature, as ~f prompted. by the et A, ed re- an ~er ~et ing ~sy ing lis. ore ~rs. hat mg ter- she and ere zar til liar ge, not s if mo- yen ent ight. res- ave hick ost paternal affection. And yet there was a something bitter in the smile which o~casionally played upon his lips; and the slight frown which d~Lrkened in his glance was significant of a disquiet or disappointment, the sources of which we may not yet compre.. hend. Suspicion, too, might be seen to lurk ~even beneath the smile of the observer, and his secret watch might have been dic- tated by a policy which was not above the indulgence of a baseness. And yet his purpose did not seem to be espionage. A sudden and troublesome thought-perhaps a suddenly suggested curios- ity-appeared to arrest his footsteps on his approach. Her ap- pearance, hera attitude, seemed to invite his study. It was to muse, to meditate, or, perhaps, to' prepare his mind for some exigent duty that he paused, without seeking to disturb the dam- sel in her vacant mood. She, too, had her causes for meditation; though one might readily ascribe the dreamy languor of her atti- tude to the bla~id and seductive influences of the climate. To the voluptuous idh~r, already familiar with that luxury of situation which ~uspend~ the thought, and strips, the fancy of everything but wings, her appearance would seem natural enough, and her~ conjectured reveries would only be the most grateful, yet unim- pressive in the world. It would be only to liken her bower to the wizard do~am of that archimage who wove his perpetual snares in the C4stle of Indolence, making all things dreamy and delusive in the half-shut eye. But the meditations of Olivia de Alvaro were of~ a sort, perhaps, even more deeply troublesome than those of her uncle. Big tears might be seen to gather in her eye-slowly, it is true, .and few,-but they were such as we seldom look to see in the eyes of young and innocent loveliness. The great dro s silently oozing from beneath their dark and drooping fringe ,like some gradual stream gliding silently forth from the overhanging alders, were not unseen by her uncle. His features became graver as he beheld them, and he looked aside-he looked down-as if anxious to shut them from his sight. He turned away hastily a moment after, and, with careful footstep, retreated silently from his place of watch. Tak~ page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 VA~9CON$D~LO~ h~g & hasty turn through the deeper ranks of foliage, he a a~er a little interval, was ret~~ in the direction of the d big, when his ear was aroused by the sound of approa voices. He promptly shrouded himself in a little copse of a~lil~la. Here he could easily distinguish th~ persons of the vlsi himself unseen. In a few moments they had reached the ~here he stood concealed. 'they proved to be the young ga N~o de Tobar, and his frafl but beautiful betrothed, in v betialf we have seen how greatly the auger of De Soto~had ~wakened.. ~he was a pretty creature, light-hearted rather wanton, whose happiness was now wholly complete, and v faults were all about to be repaired. They walked unconsci beside the stern Baithazar, and their prattle once more wr his features into that sardonic expression so natural to a ~ho despises the simplicity of young affections. They, we ~ visit to the lovely Olivia, to whom, we may say m this the betrothal pI' the happy couple brought at once a pang 1?leasure. We must leave the explanation of this contrad: to other chapters. It was with something of. chagrin and disquiet that Doi thazar discovered wh' were the approaching parties. H( almost spoken his annoyances aloud, as they passed onws the cottage. His vexation was not long ~suppressed. As so they had pass~2l into the verandah, he retired from his pla watch, to a spot of greater seclusion in the groves, and th sionate soliloquy to which he gaye utterance afforded some clue to the nature of his secret meditations. "Now" said he, flinging himself down upon the s ard, a matting of grass, like that of the Bermuda, whic comp protects the garments from the red stains of the e rth. wil4 these fools, with happiness fancied in their gras , posse: spirit with all the passions which they feel thems lves. mind were yet free from any fancy in behalf of is kni~ Portugal, they would do much towards its griffin . The spe~tkin raptures of hopes which they dream to 4 posse~ of realities which seldom, live through a season, and of senti ;am, v~ell- ren- 3ors, spot lant, hose Leen than hose usly ught man e on lace, nd a ~tion Bal- had ~d to n as ~e of pas- light thick etely Now s her E~ her ht of will ~ions, nents PREPARING FOR THE CONFLICT. 88 which few however cheated at first, but live to curse and to de- spise in after t~mes. This Nuno de Tobar is the sworn friend of Vasconselos. kite will labor in his cause. He perhaps knows all his secrets. Perhaps he comes even now as an emissary. De- monios! But does it need this? Let me not deceive myself; though I woul~l shut the truth from other eyes. Can I doubt that Olivia de ~Aivaro looks with favor on this knight? That she loves hnm-she, the but hush The thing is by no means an absurdity. The insane passion es not stop to measure its own claims. The cloud that receives and swallows up the star, has no shame for such effrontery; an~ even guilt may worship with hope at the altars of the pure and beautiful. I cannot doubt that she loves him. Else why this change since he came upon the island? Why these tears-~this despondency-this drooping fear, -this trcmblin~ and perpetual cloud and apprehension? She shrinks from other eyes-from mine. Her own are cast upon the earth, or closed from study. Could other eyes but read, like mine, she wouki have no secret to reveal! It is well that she dare not speak. The very passion that she feels for this stranger is my security. ~he must subdue these inclinations. She must stifle this working fan~y which these meddling foolswill blowinto a flame. She shall stifle i~! Fortunately, I am her wills I have ever led her as a child. She has known no impulses of her own, save those of infancy, until now; and she will scarcely now withstand that gov- erning rule which hath hitherto swayed her as the breezes sway the leaf. I would, ~ that this had not been the case. I have peril- led upon ~ moment the security of a life; but regret is unavailing now. I must continue as I have begun. I must still assert the superior will of a master,'-not simply to secure my slave, but to assure myself ofj safety. * It will be easy, and why should I scru- ple to do it? Why this fear, this feebleness? I will overcome it as before! ~he ~shall bend, she shall bow, or break in the conflict! But there will be no conflict: She will offer no opposi- tion-none that I cannot soon disarm. Had it been her fierce Biscayan mother, I should have no such victory. She would have defied me in her paroxysm, and in the very passion of her 2* page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] VASCONSELOS. rage, she would have left no secret unre~realed, ev# though stant ruin followed on her speech. Fortunately, the hild su nothing from the mother. She hath no such tempe. She the gentleness of poor Aiphonso, all his meek su mission drea~l of strife, his shrinking dislike of struggle and exciteni Had he not been so weak as to submit to her tyr nny, h never suffered wrong from me. Olivia hath his e~blene will; but she hath ~warmer sensibilities. Still, they ake no against my power,-I have s&liooled them to submission self-denial. What if I have ddne her wrong-and~ she dr not yet of its extent-i-yet, even if she knew all, nc~ despe of desire, or fear, could drive her to resistance. H~re, I a cure! Unlike her fiery dam, she is too heedful o4 the w voice to lift her own, where ~he very cry which wo4ld cru for1~unes, would leave hers wrecked on the' same shoals. this, I hold! ilere, I am safe. I must still sway-still ma: the mastery-but I foresee the struggle. I see it ii~i those .-in that deep despondency,-~in the distaste which no 1 suffers her eyes to meet the gaze of mine,--in the bold an ing word which checks my speech,~-and the reserve, almo aversion, with which she encounters my approach. I mus pare for the struggle ;-but shall we not escape it 411 if w get these knights of Portugal embarked ~? But how, resolve to stay ~ That js a grief that must find it remedies!" We care not now 'to pursue our subtle politician in his ~ or his soliloquies. Enough has been shown t0 develop t of temper with which he views the supposed co~iquests lovely niece, over the affections of two of the noblest ad ers in the train of De Soto. These had not been her on quests. But none of her previous suitors had ever gi uncle any cause for a prehension. It has been shown th not simply averse to her marriage with either of the k Portugal, but is alike hostile to the claims, of all. As t dian of his niece, with 'small estates of his own, and amp ~ sessions of hers, to manage, his disquiet on this subject m in. ed has his ent. had s of g and ams tion a se- rid's. Li my On atain ears, nger chill- like pre.. once they own ~va1ks sort )f his ~ntur-. * con- n her he is hts of' guar- p05- r well LOVE'S TEACItINGS. 85 b~ supposed to arise frona motives of most singular selfisimess or baseness. But Olivia herself; aware of his aversion to her marriage, has really no notion that avarice is the infirmity of her uncle. She knows but'little of his individual resources, but much of himself. She has seen nothing in hi~ expenditure, ort conduct, which would m~ake him appear in her eyes to be a mercenary. IJer minorit~ had been singularly managed, so as to keep her in a state of niental vassalage, quite uncommon on the island. She had been kept in almost complete seclusion until the appear. ance of De ~oto and his lady, when it was impossible to with- hold her from the court; her own wealth, her father's name, and the position of her uncle, equally requiring it. Up to this period she little dreamed of the treasures which the world had in its keeping. She little knew the value of her own. But in the course of a single night the germ of passion had blossomed, and Love r~ipidly~ maturing beneath its fervid warmth, had taught her a grief in teaching her a faith. Alas! she knew not till now how precious, how radiant white, must be the first offerings de- manded for it~ shrine. Leaving the uncle to pursue his moody walk through the umbrageous grounds of his domain, let us re- turn to the niece, and witness the reception of her guests. page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] CHAPTER IV. "But a month ago, I went from hence, and then 'twas fresh In murmur, (as you know what great ones do The less will prattle of) that he did seek The love of fair Olivia."-TwxLvrH NxGirr. THE pleasant laughter, and gay voices of Nuno de Tobar, his betrothed, prepared Olivia de Alvaro for their approach. trace of tears was quickly obliterated from her ekes, and strove with smiles to welcome her visitors. Pride, as one of the chief for alleged by her uncle, was se~curi~3ies strength, no less than for his safety. She was one of those love not that the world should behold or suspect tl~eir sorr But her pride was rather a habit than a passion. She had ( and. more fiery qualities in her nature, for which he f~i1ed to her credit. He deceived himself when he thought e knew thoroughly. Some of her characteristics were ~et abey~ some moods and passions. which are likely to c found astonish him hereafter. But these in proper season She, self, is perhaps as little aware, as her uncle, of her na endowments. Olivia received her guests on the steps of her ver4ndah. cloud had disappeared from her face, the light had return her large and lustrous eyes, and with the sweetest voice ii world, she welcomed them to an abode which, t~ the c visitor, would seem to be entirely secure from s~rrow. young creatures who now entered it, themselves ~iewlyi happy, were certainly not the persons to make any discover the latent troubles of its inmate; and assuming the happen other hearts, which they felt in their own, they poui'ed out Olivia a torrent of congratulations, which it required consi 88 and The she was her ~vho. )W5. bher ~ive her nce, and her- ural The d to the sual The tade ~ of :~5 111 ipon lera- L1~NOIIA BORADILLA. ble strength of endurance to withstand. She had heard of their betrothal, arid of the forgiveness which De Soto had extended to the erring gallant. Society at that day in Cuba was not par-~ ticularly jealous of propriety. That Leonora I3ovadilla had sinned, found its sufficient excuse with knight and lady, in the simple fact that she loved; and it was only with that class of ancients, of her own sex, who had survived even the hope of a change from single to dependent blessedness.-a number singu- larly few in every community-that censure claimed the privi- lege still to wag a slanderous tongue under the guise of a jealous virtue. Olivia de Alvaro had never been of the number to reproach the poor Leonora for her lapse, even when it was doubtful whether the sense of virtue, the sentiment of honor, or the feeling of love, in Nuno de Tohar, would prompt him to repair his wrong according to the worldly usage, by making her his wife. Having known her as a thoughtless child, without guile as without experience, a creature of extreme levi- ty, but without any impulses to evil more than seemed naturally to belong to the mercurial temper, Olivia was not prepared to re- gard her as guilty, because she had been weak. She was indulgent in proportion as the world showed itself severe. She knew~ according to a common history, that, "Every woe a tear may claim, Except an erring sister's shame," and rising above the prejudices of the world, as much through sympathy as generous ty, she suffered her manner towards the frail offender to show none of those harsher aspects which for- ever insist upon its faults~ On the contrary, a tender solicitude seemed desirous to soothe the humiliations of the suffi~rer, and make her forgetful of those public disgraces which she could not always hope to escape. Leonora felt all this, and repaid the kindness of Olivia by as much devotion as could distinguish a nature so thoughtless. The first visit which she made, after the reconciliation of her guardian with her lover, was that which we now witness. Of course, the peculiar case of the visitors was not page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] LOVE AND AMBITION. 89 VASOONSELOS. one to be spoken of openly. The silent pressure of Leoi hand by Olivia, the tender kiss which she impressed upc cheeks, and the single ~tear which gathered in her eye, ~ whispered a hurried word of congratulation, sufficiently a~ the former of the continuance of that sympathy ~hich h ready afforded her so much solace. But she erre~l, perh~ ascribing the tear to the sympathies of friendship. Had si beheld the big drops that fell from the same fruitiful foui but a little while before, she might have suspected oth more selfish sources of sorrow in her friend. Seated in the cool shadows of the verandah, th~ gay L4 soon opened her stores of prattle. She had ga1~hered rumors of the day,. alkd ~he was impatient to unfol~1 them. "And 0! dearest livia, have you heard of th9 tourna The town is full of it. It is to be the greatest 4nd the of all the shows that we hav9 had. They have begun ti operations already. Such a painting of shields and barn such* a s openingg of swords and burnishing of lances, a prancing of steeds-it will be something to remei4er a th years to come! Nklno has been busy since no~n mak arrangements. The adelantado cannot do wit1~out hin will be busy for a week,-.they Will all be busy-your kn well as mine; for you know, Qlivia~ you have a 1~night." The other shook her head very mournflilly. .." Nay, never shake your head; you know it as well as of them, indeed; and you might have a dozen, iI~ you so proud~" "Me proud, Leonora !" reproachfully. "No! ~o! I don't meanthat! Ioz~gI&ttoknowifa that you are any thing but proud. I should have said so so superior-7' . "Ah! you mock me, child." "I am a child; but I don't mock you. It is so. I b~ all, and everybody else thinks so. I'm sure youd have sand suitors, if they did not all feel that they are unwo your smiles." ora' s a her she red al- p , in .e but t ins, L' and o~ora 11 the ent? ayest I e pre- uch I u and n the Hel g t, as -~-two r not ny one, Lofty- lieve it a thou- hy of I The hand of Olivia was passed with a close pressure over her brows. Little did the thoughtless Leonora dream that the action was occasioned by a feeling of pain. She continued: "But of the homage of the knights of Portugal, nobody has a question. It is in every one's ~mouth; everybody~ sees that both the brothers love you to distraction. The question with them all is, which of them you favor. Now, I am for Don Andres, the younger; but Nuno-" Here she was interrupted by a loik from her Ietrothed, for which Olivia was properly grateflil. The subject seemed to an- noy her. "Hush, hush, dear Leonora !-.Tell us of the tournament rather. This is not the season to talk of love, but of war. See how the adelantado treats the affections, when they come in conflict with his ambition. Who so lovely, so stately, so noble, so like a Queen, as the Lady Isabella ?-yet will he leave her, a newly- wedded wife, to go on wild adventures against the Floridians. Fie upon such chivalry, such devotion, such love! What need bath he of further wars ?-hath he not wealth enough from Peru? ..-hath he not grandeur enough as Governor of this goodly island, and reputed one of the noblest cavaliers of Spain? Methinks he wantonly ffings from him a living and a glorious treasure, for a dream-for a shadow which will mock his hope, and defraud him of all his happiness." Olivia had spoken rapidly, in order, possibly, to divert the in- terest of her companions to other subjects. In speaking, how- ever, of the projected conquest of Florida, she yet trenched upon the province of Nuno de Tobar, and indirectly assailed his conduct also. He, too, like De Soto, had, acquired the love of a young and beautiful woman; he had formed ties equaUy precious, which he wa~ about to abandon at the calls of ambition; and though his state was neither secure, nor his possessions great like those of the latter, yet the imputation, in some degree, lay against him, of a like disregard to the claims of duty and domestic life. He an- swered Olivia after the usual manner of knight-errants. "And how else, dear lady, can chivalry display itself; unless page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] V~A~OQNSELOB. by deeds of arms and conquest ~ It is by these deeds &~ conquest, that it brings home tribute to Beauty, and crow with its proper jewels. It is to make love secure in st home, and refresh its bowers with lasting delight, that it ( ters peril for a season, the laurels and rewards of which si dure through future years. Love is not abandoned when t shipper carries ever ~ith him in his heart a passionate d~ which makes him cry upon the beloved one's name in the st * battle, and pray for her prayers in the tempests of the deei * prompts him to build for her a temple in waste places, an wreath chaplets of her favorite flowers in forests which s~ never see. His devotion even warms with distance, and members her beauties and her virtues the better when longer may enjoy them. If he goes forth, it is with the that he may return full-handed with spoils, that he mazy her feet in guerdon og his faith and homage." "Ah! Sei'ior, you phrase it well, and it is such fine elc that.for a season reconciles the: poor heart of woman to to( of the errantries of chivalry. For me, I confess, wouldd please me should my knight leave to others the storm o and the, peril of the seas. Let me have the devotions heart at the altars of home, rather than in the forests Floridian. Let me have the idol of my eyes always prc my sight.. I should not need that he should wander awa my eyes to be~ able to recall his virtues and grow fonc devotion." "Oh! Fie, Olivia, dear,---you have no sort idea belongs to true chivalry. Why, true chivalry lives on: and conquest, on long wanderings over sea and land, intc that were never heard of before, seeking all sorts of ene~ overthrow, and coming home with treasures of gold, gi~ heralds, such as they gather iii Peru, 'pearls,-pearl~ bushel. They gather them, Nuno tells me, by the among the Floridians. Nay,., you smile,---but the story from your knights of Portugal.-Philip, the elder, h~ among the savages in that country." r#4~ 41 this~ ~slove and n oun- ia I en- ~ wor- V tion, omof hich .0 en- *1 ~e may e re- no u~pose l~y at q~lence ~~any 1~etter E'I~attle c~f his I the sc~nt to y from * ~f his f what inhtino H ~laces r4es to ~t em-i l~y the ~s~etful ~ omes s been A. FORMIDABLE QPPON~NT. I, "I have no knights, Leonora, and this reminds me that I have really no interest in this game of war that is called chivalry. Let those like it who may. Its splendid shops do not beguile or satisfy my imagination." "Ah! but they will in the tournament, which ~aL1~and. Don't tell me that you hav& no knight. I promi e you, dear Olivia, that you will have knights enough to. do battle for your smiles, and to wear your favors. These knights of Portugal will not be the only ones to break lances in your honor. But lets them beware how they cross with my Nuno. If he does not unhorse every opponent, I ~will never, never,~never love him any more. And that's a vow to the Blessed "Don't be rash, Leonora," interrupted Nuno, with a smile. "You may punish yourself by such a vow, much more than you could ever punish me!" "Ha! Howl" He evaded the query, and went on. "As for overthrowing these knights of Portugal, it is no easy in~tter. I should rather cross lances with any other foes! Philip de Vasconselos .-'~ "How! Are you recreant? Will you allow these Portuguese to pluck the honors from Castile'?" "Nay, ~y! not if I can help it. flut I should prefer other hands than mine to make the attempt. The world has few lances which can safely cross that of Philip de Vasconselos, and mine, I fear, is not one of them; and I so love the man that I should find no satisfaction in depriving him of* a single glory that he desires. But something, as you say, is due to the honor of Castle, and if Philip overthrows all other combatants, he must have a chance of including me among his captives." The eyes of ~Olivia were cast upon the ground. But her ears drank in eagerly every syllable which had fallen from the gen- erous lips of Nuno de Tobar. She did not speak when he had* closed, nor for some time after, but remained apparently a silent listener to the gay and desultory prattle of Leonora, who, in t~e fulness of her heart, assured of her own happiness, and relieved page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] A hOPELESS SUIT. 43 42 ASCONSELO$. of all doubts of the future, had given herself up to that and roving method which but too commonly distinguish mercurial temper. She was arrested when about to tren dangerous ground-when about to renew her badinage it to Olivia's feelings for the knights o~7 Portugal,~~~Lby the ance of one of them. Fortunately, his approach had bec in season to prevent her speech. The visitor was the younger of the two. Andres de V~ los had many of the qualities ofhis elder brother; Philip persons were ~not unlike, their courage and the contour pression of their 'races. They had both served as well the Moors of Spain as the red-men of the western c But Philip, the elder, enjoyed the high distinction of b ally understood when the family name was mentioned. done famous things under Almagro in Peru. He had on~ traversed the neighboring continent of the Appalachian as far as Cabeza de la Yaca hadi carried his exploration was Wise, besides, prudent, circumspect and gentle, ai were virtues to which the younger brother, Andres, had 1 claim. Of Philip we shall say more hereafter. Of An world spak~ with many qualifications. He was desc protid and passionate-quick of quarrel arrogant in his tions and of enormous self-conceit. We have already Th mated that he, as well as his brother, as now in doubt to continue in a future progress with the expedition of Yet they ~iad both left Spain with this special object, con to the New World as a portion of the armament. Som the reason for their change of purpose has akeady I tested. They had, in fact, found but little encburagerr the adelantado,-less, perhaps, because of his ~nappre their merits-for he thought of the brothers vei~y highl' consequence of the bigotry and jealousy of the Span tains-their' clannish prejudices, and a somewhat painful their inferiority, at least, to the elder of the knights of The neglect of lie Soto had followed, perhaps, inevitab feeling of his people. The brothers had been offered ~rless i~d her hupon regard a1~pear-~ ~ heardi 1s~onse- Their ex- a~ainst inent. usu- thad efore least He d these Iu little~ I es, thu ~i ed a sump- d it inti~ Whether Soto. i~g over t~iing of Ei~n sug- ei~it from ~- ion of as in Chief- ~ense of ?~rtugal. this no dis- 43 tinctions in the army, and as their military passion became cooled, that of love made its appearance to assist in usurping the place of the former in their bosoms. Unhappily, their affections were fixed upon the same lady. The devotion of Andres de Vascon- selos led him almost nightly to her dwelling. Philip was a fre- quent visitor; but he so chose his periods as seldom to cross his brother's progress. Andres little knew how friuch he owed to this forbearance. He was slow to perceive, what was seen by all the island, that, if the heart of Olivia de Alvaro inclined to either, he certainly was not the suitor whom she most preferred. His self-esteem was not willing to accept any such humiliating sug gestion. Olivia naturally received him with respect and kindness. She felt uneasy at his attefitions, but she respected him because of her attachment to his brother. It was easSr, with his temper, to mis- take the sources of this kindness. But he was not suffered to presume upon it. A certain dignified but mild reserve, in the manni~rs of the lady, served to check every feeling of overweening confidence, and to satisfy the bold gallant that the fortress must undergo a regular leaguer before the garrison would be persuaded to surrender. He endeavored accordingly to school his eager de- sires, with as much patience as he could command; and to lessen the duration of the siege, his attacks were rendered more anl more frequent. It was seldom that a night was suffered to pass without finding him in her presence; and the gentleness of her re- ception, and the sweetness of her manners, seldom suffered him to h~ave her without giving his eager vanity sufficient assurance of favorable progress. She beheld this confidence with pain, and her reserves were increased accordingly ;-but as these never put on harsh aspects, nothing ~was done to arrest the self-delusion of the lover. A little awkwardness succeeded his first appearance within the ~t4rcle. Nuno de Tobar was the friend of Philip de Vasconselos rather than his brother. He had never been altogether satisfied with the latter. He was aware of the attachment of both for his fair hostess.......perhaps suspected the nature of her feelings for page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] AGRE11~ABLE l~EL1JSIO~. 45 44 VASCONS~LO8. his friend-.arid knew, besides, that the younger brot already begun to "regard his senior with a feeling of Andres was naturally jealous of one whom he had reas lieve was in his brother's confidence; while Nuno d~ though fond of Philip de Yasconselos, had anything but feeling for Andres. The imperious temper of the latter than once, brought them to the verge of quarrel. Th change of civilities on the present occasion was cold an and, tho~zgh the fair hostess, seeing ,the feeling betwe mad~ an amiable effort to interest the party, still the at for a while grew oppressive from mere stifihess and But the confidence of Andres de Vasconselos was of a s permit this influence to prevail to his discomfiture; a severance that suffered no discouragement from a freeze was soon rewarded by a conversation, which, if not ac mated, was yet sufficiently so to keep the scene from absolutely oppressive. By a strong effort of will, for previous exercise had not often prepared her, Olivia t enablee share in the dialogue, and Don Andres was enc proceed as he found her interest somewhat rising in 4 subjects which was started. This was the affairs of the the expedition, and naturally enough of the toiirnam thoughtless speech of Leonora conducted~ her to an in answer to which drew the eyes of Olivia directly knight of Portugal. "They say of thee and of thy brother, Don Andr are not minded to proceed on this expedition into the ( the Floridian'?" "Of what Philip de Vasconselos designs, fair lady, i presumption in me to conjecture. Of my ~wn pur say nothing, hut that it is still subject to such moods a~ vail with me when the adelantado is about to depart." "Well, for my part, I see not how such braVe cavalid owned in sword, and battle-axe, and spear, can hold what they shall do when the trumpet invites tiiem to terprise; nor do I question that when the signal ~1 ~r had i~ivalry. i~ to be. Tobar, friendly d, more inter- ~'ormal; r~ them, ?sphere rmality. 7 not to a per.. answer, a~lly ani- W~coming ~r1Jiich her a rea- ii~~ad ~my and r4. The ~~iiry, the Lipon the ~, that ye ~ntr~ of X~ ~rouldbe se I can nay pro- ,well ~ doubtful rious en~ As, thou wilt be among the first to hear and answer. But, of' a surety, thou wilt not be wanting to the tournament." "AAd yet," answered the knight of Portugal, with a smile that might have been mistaken for a sneer, "were it not as great a rashness if I should venture in a passage at arms with sih for~ tunate gallants as Don Nuno de Tobar, who wears the favors of one of' the loveliest damsels of Cuba'? It will need something more than skill and valor to render a poor knight of Portugal successful against the cavaliers of Castile, when they couch spear under the smiles of the most invincible beauty." There was something equivocal in this remark that made Nuno de Tobar wince, but his betrothed did not perceive it. She went on, slily glancing, as she spoke, at the pale face of Olivia, which put on an increasing gravity as she listened. "Yet seems it to me, SefYor, that thou wilt scarcely lack in the auspices which befriend thy opponent. I doubt not but the smiles of Beauty will give thee sufficient encouragement. At least, it is scarcely fitting that a true knight should suffer from such want." The eyes of Andres de Vasconselos followed those of Leonora, as she looked mischievously in the direction of her friend. The reference was quite unfortunate. There wa~ no mistaking the resolute gravity which absolutely groomed the features of Oli- via. But her face was no longer pale. A warm flush rose upon her cheeks at the same moment, of the soi~rce of which Don Andres readily deceived himself. His vain arA eager fancy easily construed this flush~ into a confession of weakness,-and a proud exulting glance, which he did not seek to restrain, betrayed toOlivia the delightful conviction which he felt. But her eyes made no answer to his own, and the flush passing immediately from her' cheeks, was succeeded by an almost mortal paleness, which was by no means diminished while Andres continued to speak in answer to the grateful suggestions of Leonora. He had his reply, full of empressement, to the pleasing insinuation which she had conveyed, quite as much, perhaps, by the direction of her glance, as by the language which she had uttered. His reply~ 45 44 page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] A SEASONABLE DIVERSION. 47 - * 46 VASCONSELOS. though the mere words might disclaim his sense of trim yet distinguished by a manner which betrayed the most assurance. "Alas! Lady Leonora, thou wouldst betray "me to z Would' I could rejoice in any such hope as that which couragest. But how should it be for me, a poor k Portugal, by no means in favor with your proud noble~ tile, to hope for better countenance from hex~ proud ar daughters'? Yet the bird .will spread his wings for the: of the sun! The fond insect will dart, though it be t into the bla7Ang flame or pyre ;-and I fear that, hopele~ glory that I seek, and destined to equal peril in the too am ambitious of the prize that but mocks my be vor." "Thou confesses then-thou lovest'" was the eage: of the gay and thoughtless Leonora. "Ali! wouldst thou possess 'thyself of my secret'? ~i only to make merry with my weakness. Surely; in fortune which has smiled upon thy heart, it were scarce oixs to find a pleasure to show to the world the disapp which mock the 'desire now preying hopelessly, perch: mine." "Not hopelessly, not fruitlessly, Sefior Andres! Senior, that is a speech more gallantly than truly spoke not believe that thou thickest so humbly of thy hopes, noble qualities which thou bring'st into the field, against the maidens as against the lances of Castile. I that our cavaliers esteem thee one of the best warn array, so am I sure that our ladies look upon thee wi which does not misbeseem thy reputation as ~ knight." The flattery was not lost upon the person addressed. in the mood to believe- every syllable; and indeed, th less woman, rating the judgment of her friend by her well prepared to believe that the preference of Oliv stowed rather upon the younger than the elder brotl Andres was not unwilling to continue a conversant aiph, was 5nfiden~ 4 ruin thou en- a~ght of of Cas- ~ lovely x~ansions ) perish, of the I ~'endea- inquiry~ at were bl~.e good gener- tmen~s i4e, upo~a Veril±, 1. I ~Ti1l of' tl~e ~ potei~it Ikno~r ~ s in our a faMor He was thought- ~wn, was 4 was be- ~r. Don ~ii which seemed to bring him so much higher to his object. lie did not see the painful constraint which sat upon the features of Olivia. "Ah 1', was his reply. "But 'he who hath set his affections upon the bird of paradise, can giv& but little heed to the plum- age or the strains of inferior songsters."' His eyes again sought the pale countenance 6f the maiden whom.he worshipped. Her glance was equally wandering and sad. Nuno de Tobar saw that she was troubled. He himself was dissatisfied with the thoughtless play of his betrothed. He felt its mischievous tendency, and his friendship for Philip de Vasconselos made him unwilling to behold a progress on the part of his brother which was adverse to his own. He inter- fered t~ effect a diversion of the topic, which the fanciful allusion of Don Andres now enabled him to do without an effort. "Talking of birds and singing, dear Lady Olivia, reminds me that in the cares of the camp, and in my long term of disfavor, I have not enjoyed thy music for a weary seasoi~. I pray thee, favor us with some one of those many ditties which never come with due effect save from those who feel them. I would I could persuade thee to one of those antique ballads of El Cid; but I will not ask thee, remembering the flat denial which thou gayest, in my presence, to that fine courtier, De Sinolar, when he craved the ballad of Urraca, and the Moor who lost Vale~cia. Nath- less, some other strain, I pray thee, if it be only to persuade Dofia Leonora that Nuno de Tobar is not so entirely her slave that he dare not seek a favor at the hands of anothe~beauty. I trust, Selior Alidres, that thy ear, like mine, is accessible to all the charms of music." "Verily, Sefior," was the reply, "that depends entirely on the bird that sings. There are some whose plumage makes marvel- ously against their strains. That thou hast had the wit to entreat from the Lady Olivia that bounty which it has heen my first thought to solicit, is a great vexation. But I must content my~ self now ~ith repeating thy entreaty." The cavaliers both looked pleadingly to Olivia as they spoke. But she needed no second soliciting. She was not one of those 46 page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 VASCONSELOS. whose vanity requires persuasion, as well as audience; 9 she was only too anxious to escape a further dialogue pained her something more than either of the parties could imagine. ~he was not one of that common compa' delight in the imputation, so grateful to the vulgar dan conquests which they have made ~, and resented naturally fensive no less to decency than good taste, a reference natt~re in the presence of the very person who is suspected ing their authority. But there were deeper sensibilities these at work within her bosom, to prompt her to revolt at versation, and the diversion of Nuno de Tobar was eagerly upon as affording relief to troubled feelings. She had taken the guitar ere Don Andres had finished speaking, ai a few soft prelusive touches, with a voice that trembled v emotions, though full of compass and power, she sane happiest style of art, yet with the most easy execution, lowing ballad, which seemed in some degree designed a: mentary upon the preceding conversation: AMINA. Now why does fair Amina, With gallax~t suitors near, Still scornful hark the pleading That woos no other ear? Great nobles seek her beauty, And knights for valor known, And wealth displays its treasure, Yet still she keeps her own. She answers sighs with silence, And heeds not,~ though she hears The sorrows of the bosom, That worships her in tears. A scornful song requires them, With answer such as shakes The strong heart with its mockery- The feeble one it breaks! '4 c~sides, which 4esent who .~el, of as of- this qffeel-~ L~esides liie con- seized ready 4, after ith her ~n the t~ae fol- corn- 3 THE SONG.' 49 And thus, while all are watchful, Each eager in his quest, She answers for the bosom In maiden freedom blest: "Ye call me now your mistress, Ye bow beneath my word; To change were sorry wisdom, The subject to the Lord. "I know ye well, my masters, The gentlest of your k nd, To him ~vho flies in freedom, The sternest where ye bind. "'Tis sweet to have your homage, ~ sweet to hear you plead, And know that for our beauty's prize Ye do each valiant deed. "How well ye speed in tourney, How gallant grace the hall; How sweetly in the twilight groves Your pleading murmurs fall! "Your eloquence how gracious, Your song forever sweet, That lifts the heart on pinions As exquisite as fleet. "Too precious to the maiden These treasures while they're true; And sad to think, if change in her, Should work a change' in you. "If 'tis to win our favor Your graceful arts are shown,-. If valor strikes thus nobly, That Beauty may be won- "If 'tis for this the palace Your courtly graces sees,-~ For this ye plead in twilight bower, With homage sure to please- page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] I DON ANDRE'S THEOLOGY. 51 60 VASCONSELOS. "How great the fear of Beauty, If, when ye gaul the prize, Ye deem no longer needful The grace that won her eyes? "Ye sing but for your mistress- Ye Mug not for your slave,-. And give no more, the-object won, The worship that ye gave. "I will not brook a perU, That sounds of joy the knell; And will not yield my heart to love, Because I love so well." The song was finished; and as the maiden laid the insti aside, a storm of' gentle reproaches fell upon her ear, as we Nuno de Tobar as from the youthful knight of Portugal. "Nay, nay !" exclaimed the fair Leonorade Borbadilla- ~her not, heed her not! She think not as she sings. ~ chosen this ballad in a perverse spirit, only to mock whal been saying. She is sworn in her secret heart, well against all such inhuman selfishness. Out upon your dame Amina! She was but a Moorish damsel, I trow, and h was given up to heathen divinities." "And love himself is o~e of them," said De Tobar ar "Not our love, Don Nuno-not the love known to ( and before wh6se altars the true knight first buckles on h He hath his birth in the gay regions of Proven~e-a cava self, belted and spurred, with the addition of a pair of win you what John of Nostrodamus writes of him, and yot satisfied that he is not of heathen origin-a pure Christ~ ble and a gentle-from whom eomes the religion of t1~ knight." And the Portuguese chanted the original description ballad of the Troubadour. "Censure not the Moor," said Olivia to Leonora gentl~ know not that I somewhat share in' the blood of that n people." ~imexit from -' heed e has have [know, ls like heart ly. valry, spurs. I r him- s. See ill be a no- belted from the 4-."you ~~guided "1 "But not of the infidel?" replied the other with a sort of ~1oly horror, crossing herself devoutly as she spoke. ~, rely, but of a family that haply beheld the blessed ight of the Christian Church, and of~thoir own free will sought baptism. But the ballad I have sung comes not from the Njoor. ~: It is pure Castilian. The damsel Amina was of the true faith." "Ay, lady, but she sang not wisely, knowing the wants of our sex, and the better virtue in her own. Her ballad is in the per- verse spirit of the Moor, who, with the true heaven in his eye, yet wilfully turned away his sight. In heart ~he was but a pagan. It suits the creed of one who found inns slave ~t1~e thing of his affections. ,Of such only is it permitted to hink ill of knighthood, and to stifle all the free faith in the heart of woman. It suit~ for reproach to a race of misbelievers, who, though they bore them- selves manfully enough in battle, were yet little familiar with the laws of Christian chivalry. The true knight loves not less the treasure because it hath been won. If he keeps it no longer, in his eye, it is because he hath conveyed it to his heart. I~ he boasts no longer of its beauty, it is because he fears to tempt the avarice of others to seek his treasure. If he sings n& longer in her praise, it is because, when he hath wholly given himself up to her charms, as he doth by marriage, he hath said the most in her honor that could be spoken. Verily, I repeat, your Amina ~va~ but a wretched heathen in heart, cold and selfish, a her doctrine is only true of a people who believe with the iiifidel." Such was the eloquent commentary of Don Andres, conveyed In a manner at once spirited and graceful. "Thou ha~t made a right good and proper defence of thy sex aild mine, Don Andres," exclaimed Leonora, "and I trow thou wilt never lack lady's favor to grace thy helmet in the 1ie1ct~ of ~ tourney. Thou wilt take thy part, I trust, in the tournament which the adelantado has appointed; thou and thy valiant brother, even if ye go not on the enterprise against the~ Floridian." With the mention of his brother, the eyes of Don Andres were seen suddenly to sparkle with a keen and fiery expression. Nuno de Tobar, knowing the conscious rivalry that existed between~ the 6 page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 VASCOI~SELOS. two, watched him with interest, but said nothing. But Do~ Au- dres was not so forbearing. "Philip de Yasconselos must answer for himself," sai(jl he, somewhat equivocally-" we are both of us sufficiently ~i4 to adopt our resolutionswithout much consultation with one With these words he passed quickly from the subject. KEhe eve~ilii~ was not much longer protracted, and soon IDe Tobai' and his betrothed took their departure, leaving the knight of Poi1tugal behind them. They ~were not conscious, as they d~scende~1 the verandah into the groves leading from the dwelling, of the r~ove- ments of another~who led the way through the shady thi~l~ets. This was no other than Philip de Yasconselos himself. us not ix~iagine that he had been a li~t~ne~. He had been m~iiing his way to the abode of Olivia, when arrested, almost o~ the threshold, by the voice of his brother. He was about to ijetire, as he had usually done uifder the same ~circumstances. "Let him have all the chances," he murmured to hims~W, as he turned away. "He was the youngest born of our ~ and had her fondest blessing. IV wer~ a grievous sorrow ig e had not mine." Just then the voice of Olivia in song, detained his departing footsteps. He leaned sadly against a tree while he listene~I to the satirical ballad with which the damsel had answered th~ so limitations of his brother. The sentiment of the ballad was no less ungracious in his ears than in those of Andres; an~ yet there was a secret feeling of satisfaction in the heart of P~flip, that the ditty had been chosen in response to the prayer of a I. rival. He retired, with mingled feelings, from his place of~atch, as the song ended, and strolled slowly through the alleys. In a little while he heard the footsteps and the voices of IDe TobaF and his companion, behind him, and perceived, with a pang, th~t his brother did not accompany them. His pace was hurriedly in- creased. He ~elt all the delicious opportunity which Afidres enjoyed, and readily conjectured that it was with a special purpose that the latter rein~ained after the departure of her other gue~ts. "Well!" he murmured to himself sadly, "be it so! If he A LOVER'S QUIETUS. 53 hath the word with which to win her,~she is his! I will not nvy my brotiier. I would I had the strength to pray that he might be successful. He hath wronged me-he will still wrong me-. and I will submit. He shall find in me no~illing rival, whether in love or war. Our mother gave him to my care. I will 1~hink of her love, though he may never do justice to mine." The field was clear before Andres de Vasconselos. He was alone with the woman whom he loved. He was not~ the man to lose time, or daily long in a fruitless attendance a~ the shrine of his devotions without making his petition heard. He was ~one of those impetuous spirits whose fierceand eager willinthe assertion of its desires, is apt to blind to the prospect of defe~t- to all prospect save that which is beheld through the medium of a passionate and almost frenzied hope. Scarcely had Nuno de Tobar and his betrothed disappeared, before he was at. the feet of Olivia. But not for us to watch the progress of the brief but exciting scene which followed. Let it suffice that ere many minutes had elapsed, Andres de Vasconselos was also spee~1ing. away from the abode, darting headlong through the perfumed alleys which surrounded it, and hurrying almost madly in the direction of the neighboring hills. With his disappearance,. Don Baithazar de Alvaro~ once n~ore emerged from the cover of the neighboring thicket. His espio- nage over his niece and her visitors seems to have been continued throughout the evening. He had been sufficiently near, in his place of concealment, to behold all that had taken place, and to hear every syllable that was spoken. An exulting expression was kindled in his face, and his satisfaction at the result was audi- bly expressed. "So far it is well! He hath his quietus. I had expected this; but it is something to be sure. That danger is passed. There is yet another, and a greater! Were I as confident of the answer she would make to the prayer of Philip as of Andres-nay, were I not so confident.J should feel at rest. This accursed anxiety! It leaves me almost a coward. But I must arm myself for the worst, and against the final struggle. It will come, and I m~ist be 4. page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 VASCONSELOS. prepared. Olivia de Alvaro must wed with neither of these knights of Portugal. Shemust wed withuone. The hour that fi~ids her9a bride, finds me . But it shall never come to this; we must baffle him, or he must perish. Both shall perish ~re she wed this man !" Did Olivia dream of the near neighborhood of her uncle all this while! Could she fancy what were his resolves and reflections, in respect to her future fate and fortune~! It might almost ~em that she did from the pallid features~ of her face, the big tears swelling in her eyes, the drooping self-abandonment with which, as soon as Andres de Yasc6nselos had disappeared, she suffered herself t& fall back upon the couch, her hands covering her face, and, as it were, seeking to stifle the deep moan of agony which perforce escaped from her lips. The sound reached 1~on Bal- thazar in his place of concealment. Slowly he receded from the spot and disappeared in the more distant shrubbery. He ~iad not the heart to meet her at that moment. ~t. CHAPTER~ V. "Uso a vedirrni Tremar tu sei ~ ma, pin non tremo."-ALnzrRr. IT was past midnight when Andres de Vasconselos returned to the bohio or cottage, which was occupied by his brother and him- self His agitation was measurably subsided,~but not his pas- ~ions. The quiet was only upon th~ surface. A violent storm w~is still busy, raging in the depths of his spirit. Hi~ features were rigidly composed, but stern almost to ferocity, and his emotion was perhaps only concealed by the resolute comp~es- sion of his lips. It seemed as if he did not dare to trust to t~iem in speech. Though late, his brother had not yet retired for the night. Philip de Vasconselos was busily engaged wi4tin~g at the tableihe only one which the apartment contained. The tight by which he wrote was peculiar enough, however common to the island. It consisted of a cluster of twelve or fifteen cocuyos,.- that larger sort of phosphorescent insect. These were enclosed in a little wicker-work, or cage, made of the most delicate threads of gold-wire. They emitted a light, of a color brilliantly green, ample enough for all the purposes of the student. Philip looked up, at the entrance .of his brother, and discovered, at a glance, that his emotions had been violently aroused and agitated. He welcomed him, however, with a gentle~ord and smile, the an- swer to which was at once brief and ungracious. "Are you unwell, Andres'?" was the inquiry, affectionately made; for the elder brother was touched, rather than vexed, by the repulsive accents of the other. "And if I were, Philip de Vasconselos '?" sternly and un~atis. factorily replied the younger. "And if thou wert, Andres! This t~o me, thy brother ?" §5 page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] VA8OON~ELO$. THE RIVAL RRoTIIERg. 57 "Why not? Why should grief or suffering of mine concern thee '~ It is enough that thou hast neither." "Nay, Andres, that I myself am free from cares and sorrows would be good reason only why I. should seek to bring some remedy to thine. But there is yet another cause for my anxiety. The epistle, my brother, which is now growing beneath hands especially reminds me of my duty to succor and to corn-. t thee. It is a ktter to our mother, Andres; and I am even now about to speak of thy health and happiness." "What warrant hast thou for assuming either? What know-. est thou of my happiness or health ?" "Nay, Andrea, that thou h~t vigorous and youthful health, may not be denied. All who behc4d thee, speak loudly of thy full cheek, thy elastic form, and the brightness of thine eye; and these things speak for thy happiness als% It is vain to declare the presence of a grief which leaves the beauty and vigor of the form unwanted and untouched. Surely, my brother, thou art imot unhappy?" "Why troubles thou me with such questions, Philip? Write to. our mother whatever it pleaseth thee to write. Soy what thou wilt. It matters but little to me what thou sayest 1" "Bi~t it matters much to her, Andres," replied ti2e other, somewhat reproachfully. "Besides, I dare not speak to our mother indifferently of him, her favorite son, whom she so corn.. mended especially to my affection as a~ younger brother." "Philip de Yasconsel~s, both thou a~d our mother have~ei'red greatly when ye claim to believe that I need guardianship. I tell thee, Sefior, I am, like thyself; a man,-and fully capable of taking care of my own health and fortunes." The reply to this rude speech was full of a sad solemnity. "Something hath vexed thee, Andres, making the4 unjust to thy brother and ungrateful to the tender fondness of thy mother for thy youth. Thou wi~t find it less easy, when thou recoveries thy calm of temper, to forgive thyself than to procure her for- giveness or mine. I will finish my letter, making my own report of thy condition, which, until this hour, Andres, hath seemed to all the island, as to myself; such as it would be most grateful to any mother to beh6ld or know." "As thou wilt; and yet !-Look at me, Philip de Vasconselos! -look at me, ere thou writes down any delusive falsehood f~or my mother's eyes! Look I like one whom th~ Gods have marked for happiness ?" He approacfled the table as he spoke, and grasped, with some violence, the hand that held the pen. The eyes of the brothers encountered. Those of Andres were blood-shot, full of rage, and expressive of a fury that seemed about to break through 91 restraint. Philip rose, as he caught the fearful expression in the other's face. His o'~n features were calm and firm, but filled with a tender concern and. sympathy, such as spoke for the gen- tle and nobl attachment with which the elder brother regarded the younger, and the favorite of their mother. "Andres," he said, "I know not that I an~wisej-or like to be successful in sking thy confidence. Of late thou hast seemed to regard me r ther as an enemy than a brother -" "Thou art! Thou art !" was the wild and reckless answer. "Nay, I c nnot answer thee, Andres, by any assurance in words. It l~ecomes not me patiently to strive to disprove thy injustice. I ~ook upon such speech as a sort of madness, on thy part, rather than a wrong done to met Enough, that I tell thee I am here, re~tdy, as thou ~hast always~ found me before, to serve thy cause, to help thy progress, to fight thy battles-if need be "I ask not thy help in battle, Philip de Vasconselos. I am equal to my own danger. But thou art willing to help my pry- gress---to serve my cause ?-llow sayest ?-Eh !" "Yea! with all my strength, and all my heart I" was the eager reply. " Hearken! wilt thou deign then to seek on my behalf; and to solicit from Don Balthazar de Alvaro, the hand of his niece in marriage? Wilt thou do this, Philip de Vasconselos ?" "Verily, o~' a truth will I do this, if the lady hath authorized 3* page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 VASCONSELOS. thee so to solicit ;" was the answer, in somewhat ~xbdued ac- cents. "If the lady hath authorized the&to solicit !" was the mocking repetition of the infuriate young man: "Go to, Philip de Vas- conselos, I well kndw that thou wouldst not, ay, thou couldst not, serve me in this. Would I need to solicit the favor of the uncle, were I sure of the favor of his niece ?" "Thou wouldst surely not seek the one, were the other denied thee'?" "Not through thy eloquence, surely, Senor Don Philip, lest thou shouldst haply forget thy client's claims in the prosecution of thy own." "Andres, my brother," said the other calmly, but with a stern- er show of expression than had before been apparent in his coun- tenance,-" it~ will not be easy to make me angry with thee. It is in thy madness that thou dost me this, gross injustice,-and I forgive it. But let us speak no m~ in regard to this matter. It needs not that I should tell thea what thou seemest already to understand, that my affections have been placed, as well as thine, upon the same lovely lady. I deny not this, though I have deem- e~i it only proper that I should be silent on the subject, seeing thy secret in the same moment with mine own. It is surely our mis~ fortune that we have so loved. But I resolved, from the moment when I discovered of hy affections, that the field should be ope~i to thee from any o struction of mine. I stood not in thy way. I offered no rivalship to thee,-and, while thou hast nightly sought the dwelling of the Lady Olivia, it was enough for me to know that such was the 'course of thy footsteps, to turn mine in the opposite direction. This very night, when I learned that thou wast her guest, I left the garden of the lady-" "Ha! thou wast there,-and thou hast heard'?" was the inter- ruption. "I have heard nothing! When I found the verandah occupied by thyself and Nuno de Tobar, with his betrothed, I turned away~ in silence, seeking nothing farther. I left thee to thy own N) RECONCILIATION. 59 progress, and, if su mine owi~ injustice I A deep for a mo broke in. "Enou turning S have wro longer 4;h~ This i~4gh hoped mc 'my fortui be more stand 'in t resolution himintol "Is it "Pity: my pride .-lest I f~ when my chines to that I no cess whei founded thee, this as thou shouldst me-.--thoi perchance I know ti and fully fidence ii opportun with the resolution to give thee all the opportunity; ~cess ~were thine, to bury in silence, in the depths of heart, the secret affection which has troubled it. Thy Lath not suffered this " groan from the younger brother interrupted the, speaker nent. The latter would have proceeded, but Andres gh! Enough, my brother," he exclaimed with a re- ~ntiment of justice. "I am a madman and a fool. I nged thee! Pursue thy fortunes. It needs not any ~t thou shouldst yield thy hopes or purposes to mine. hath resolved me. It finds me denied, where I had st strongly. It finds me destitute, where' I had ~set 'all tes on the venture. I dare not wish that thou shouldst Qrtunate. I am. not generous enough for that. Yet I ~'y path no longer. Within the hour I have made ~ new I wi~l continue with Jiernan de Soto. I will go with 'lorida., InCubi~ I should find butwreck and sorrowonly." o, my. brother I" said Philip sadly. ne' not, if thou wouldst not madden me. Thou knowest and temper. ~eware, lest I forget what is due to thee )rget thy justice, thy generosity, ever shown to me even perversity was most. Enough, now that my mood in- liee, to do thee right, Philip; although I dread to think longer love thee as I did. I see thee destined for suc- e I have failed-where I have been crushed and' con- ~rith unexpected deniaL I fear-I feel-that, but for had not been the 'case. Thou hast passed before me ~iast ever done before. It matters nothing that 'thou tell me of thy forbearance. Thou hast given way 'to hast yielded me opportunity.-and, in thy secret ~aeart, , it is like thou felt that thou couldst do so with safety. ie strength of thy will and hope, Philip de Vasconselos, believe that thou hast built thy expectations upon a con- thy superior fortune, which might boldly give every ty to mine " page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 VASCONSELOS. THE LOVER AND THE BROTHER. 61 "Thou still wrong'st me, Andres I', mildly. "Perhaps, perhaps !-do I not even wrong myself as well as thpe? We will speak no more of this. Enough, that the field lies before thee-that I cross thy path no longer-that I go on the expedition with De Soto-and as, most likely, thou wilt be. successful where I have failed, so thou wilt remain here, and we will cast our shadows no more upon each other. Write this to out mother, and say to her that my soul is now wholly yielded to the ambition of conquest. Tell her what thou wilt of those dreams of Dorado, which woo the adventurer to the wilds of the Appalachian." "Brother "Think not that I would wrong thee, Philip. Is it not enough that even in my passion and my pang, I acknowledge thy forbear- ance '~ I blame thee not, even while I curse in bitterness thy al- ways better fortune. It is thy fortune that prevents my love, and not thyself~~ "But thou dost love me, Andres V' "I know not that !-How should I love thee, when thou hast /been the barrier to my love ?-the only one passion on which all (my affections have bee~ set!" "But I know not this, Andres; I have never spoken word of love or tenderness to the Lady Olivia." "But thou wilt speak both; and she hear thee, and respond to thee in accents like thine own. No re of this, lest I grow wild and foolish, and curse thee, Phihi or thy better fortune." "Nay, thoi~ shalt not, brother" and he threw his arms tenderly about the unreasonable youth, who submitted but only for a mo- ment to~the embrace; he shook himself free from it in the next Instant. Philip's eyes followed him with a deep and melancholy Interest, full of sorrow and affection, as he saw him preparing once more to leave tl~e cabin. "Whither go you, my-brother, at this late hour ?" "Forth! Forth o cc more into the night !" "Nay, Andres; ere it not better thou shouldst seek for sleep ?" "I cann t sleep! Thou knowest not what a stifling fullness harbors he e-and here !" was the reply of Andres, smitinglais head and osom as he spoke. "I must hurry forth! I must, have air a d solitude !" With t ese words he disappeared from the cabin. Philip de Va conselos followed him to the door, and his~ eye~ anxiously pur ued t e retreating form by the imperfect starlight, until it had wholly gone from sight. The elder brother then returned~to the table, here, seating himself, he rested his cheek upon his pal , and sunk into a fit of melancholy, which was of mixed cha acter, t once pleasing and painful. The perverse and will- ful ride o his brother, his suspicious and jealous temper, must nec ssarily have been productive of great grief to one by whom he as ear estly beloved; but it was in~ vain that Philip. de Yas- con elos tr ed to stifle the feeling of satisfaction which enlivened and please tly ag4ated his bosom, as he thought of the rejec- tion by Oh ia do Alvaro of his brother's suit. Love is certainly one of the ost selfish and exacting of all the passions in the heart of youth; perhaps because it is the passion which most corn. pletely abs rbs and swallows i~p the rest. Philip was really fond of A dres; fond of him by reason of natural sympathies, as a broth r; fond of .him by habit and as.sociation-.-fond of all thatwas manly in his character-.-proud~ of his spirit and youth- ful beauty fond of him, 6n account of their mother, and partic- ularly so, , for so long a time, he had been the guardian of his youth and fortunes. But his heart reproached ~him for the still grateful fee ing of satisfaction, which he vainly endeavored to sub- due, and w ~ch continually reminded him that, in . this quarter, there was* o lotiger an obstacle to his own successes. It ~was to overco e this thought that he proceeded to resume the letter which he h d beenwritingtohismotherwhenAndres had first made his appear nce. A few additional lines only were written, when he flung th reed from him and closed the portfolio. His nerv- ous system was in too much agitation to suffer him to continue at an emplo ent which particularly demanded the utmost calm page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 VASO0N~ELO$. THE GUARDIAN A TX) WARD. 68 of the spirit. He went once more to the entrance of the cabin, and soliloquized, as if his brother were still in sight. "Unhappy child of passion ! forever erring and repenting-only to repeat thy error; what a destiny is thine! How shall I watch and save thee, when it is ever thus, that some c~uel suspicion, the offspring of thy wild temper and fierce will, continually begets thy hostility against the hand that is outstretched in thy service! Thou wilt go with Hernan de Soto, and it may be that I shall not 1e with thee. Ha! Is this, then, a doubt? Is it so certain that mine shall be a better fortune with Olivia de Alvaro than was thine? She has refused thee,-thou, as brav~, as noble, as come- ly as any of the ge~atlemen of Castile! Will sEe be more likely to hearken me? It is possible; and I have a hope, a hope in which I gladden-though I shame to own it,-based upon a broth- er's denial and defeat! Is there reason for this hope? Do I ~not delude myself-does not Nuno de Tobar, when he encour- ages my passion, does he not delude me also? The thought that I too shall be scorned, makes it easy to pardon the violent passions of my p~or Andres. Well! We shall shortly see! Now that he no longer pursues the quest, it will be for me to know what is my fate. A few days, and it may be that I also go with thee, my brother, into the wild forests of the Apalachian. And yet, were there other fields of venture, Hernan de Soto should have no help of mine. He hath favored, rather than frowned upon, these jealousies of his Spanish followers. They hold me in their h~te, if not their disesteem; and envy me the very skill and knowledge upon which they build somewhat for their h9pe of succ~ss. Let Olivia but smile upon my prayer, and I ffi~ them oil; with as little regard as I would fling off the most worthless thing, in my dislike ~r indifThrence 1,, We need not follow Philip de Va~sconselos in his soliloquy. ]~nough is given to show the temper of his mind and character. We will leave ~~him to his slumbers, such as he may snatch, in the brief interval which now remains between the midnight and the dawn; while we retrace our footsteps once more to the dwelling of Don Balthazar de Alvaro. It migi fr9rn hisj th.~ veran fii~d him to fin~ c His step wi~h a p shrubber~ sibiities to music~ and could ties, with His sons spontane( to be hea of Olivia~ beheld hc selos, un Beauty ii very diffl and yet 5 vacant; struggling~ nal object her-.he ly, and 51 glance wi beauty ol exultatioi charms c that was a mystery circumsp the curic were con remained t have been an hour after we saw him retiring, silently, )lace of espionage among the groves which surrounded iah where his niece had received her guests, that we returning to the same spot. But it was no longer )ncealment and to p y the spy that he now appeared. ~vas set down firmly a d fearlessly, and his lips parted peasantt catch of Ca . ian song, as he di~ew near the Don Balthazar was no can musician. With no sen- uch as are vulgarly assumed to be absolutely necessary 1 endowment, he was held to be something of a master, shape corresponding melodies to the most difficult dit- a readiness not unlike that of the Italian improvisatory. on the present occasion, which might have been a us utterance for aught we know, was sufficiently loud rd within the dwelling. But it did not reach the senses wl~ lay stretched u~ion the divan, upon whicb we r sink suddenly at the departure of Andres de Vascon- er the burden of a nameless sorrow,, for which, with * her endowment, and Devotion at her feet, it would be ult to account. She beheld not the entrance of her uncle, ~ie slept not. Her eyes were open, but the glance was the sense was shut.' It was fixed within, upon the passions of her own heart, and took no heed of exter- s. Don Balthazar approached her-he stood before poke to her, yet she heard him not. He paused quiet- irveyed her. Very peculiar was the character of that tich he bestowed upon the lovely outline and perfect the features within his gaze. It might be pride and L, such as a father feels beholding the unsurpassable f a favorite daughter. But there was something still ~quivocal in the expression of~his features. There was [ous significance in that look, at once of steady and ~ct watch, yet of eagerness and satisfaction, which baffled sity that it continued to provoke. Some moments ~umed in this serpent-like gaze, and all the while she absolutely unconscious of his presence. She was only U 63 62 page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] 64 YASCONSELOS. aroused from this unconsciousness as he sat himself quietly be. side her, and folding his arms about her waist; lifted her with an air of great affection in his embrace. Then it was that she started, looked wildly about h or a moment, and then, distin- guishing the intruder, fixed upon him a countenance expressive of any feeling but that of tenderness or regard. In an instant the full, quick, keen vitality, came like a flood of light into her great dark eyes; her lips quivered,, and were suddenly closed fast, as if with sudden resolution. She started from the cush- ions, and shook herself free from his grasp, as if he had been a viper. "You!,' she exclaimed in a tone of suspicion and appehen- sion. "Even so, Olivia. Who else'? But what now'? Why this passion'? What has vexed you'? What startles you'?" How long have you been here'?" she asked wildly. "But this moment," he answered: "I thought you slept." She drew a deep sigh, as if suddenly relieved. "It is late," she said; "I will retire." "Late! what of that'? Have you any cares for to-morrow'? Sit, my beauty, and tell us who have been your guests-who hath been here'? What are your tidings'?" "I have none," she answered coldly and timidly, still moving to retire. "Now, saints and demons! what is in the child I" he ex- claimed, as he endeavorEd once more to detain her in his grasp. She shrunk from him with a visible shudder. A heavy scowl passed over his forehead, and he spoke with closed teeth. "What! .~till in thy Biscayan temper'? Nay,, nay, my pre- cious one, thou shalt not leave me thus." "Suffer me to go, uncle," she entreated, as he caught her hand. "Why, so I will, when thou hast answered me what has put thee in this temper again'? Methought, when I left thee last, that thou hadst been sobered-hadst -grown wiser. What has w~gught thee into this passion, at a moment when brave cava- Ue~s grow humble in thy train'? Or dost thou repent thee for A WATCHFUL PROTECTOR. 65 having dis isseA with denial this famous young gallant of Por- tugal?" What a change in her aspect followed this speech from his lips! But a moment before she exhibited aversion, but it was coupled wi timidity and a feeble, tearful apprehension. In a moment th timidity wa~ gone-the tear-the apprehension. Her eyes fi shed full with indignation as she replied "What! thou hast again descended to the office of the spy'? Thou hast nce more placed thyself in secret watch upon my actions'?" "Not up n thy actions, child-not upon thee, but upon those who approa h thee. I know thy danger from these gallants, and it is in de ree as I fear them, my Olivia, that I keep watch over thee, a thy guardian-thy protector, child-" He renewed the attempt to take her hand as he spoke. * "Touch e not," she cried. "Oh, wolf assigned to keep the lamb!" "What wouldst thou have, child'? It is surely needful that I hold ever resent in mind the treasure that I am set to keep." "Oh, fien ! and thou smil'st as thou speak'st thus dreadfully." "Nay, na , not a fiend, Olivia, only, I grant you, not exactly an angel. B lieve me, I am not a whit worse than most other men." "Thou sl dearest thy race." "No, trul , no. Most guardians, having such precious treasure in their keejj~ing, would take care of it as I have done. Have I not kept thee well, my child-as tenderly, as closely? Shall others rob ~ne of the treasure before mine own eyes'? Ah, child ~ if I loved' thee less, I had been spoiled of thee before. It. is in my f~4ndness, Olivia,-" "Oh! cease to vex me with these cruel taunts! What gain is it to thee now, ~at thou shouldst add a sting to a sorrow'? If to thee I owe t~ie loss of hope, why jibe me ever with this loss'? Why hold l4efore mine eyes the terrible picture of the woe thou hast planted forever in my soul'? Forbear thy mockeries. Suffer me to leave thee-suffer me to sleep-sleep-sleep! if this be possillile to-nights" page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] 66 vAsc~ONSELO5. A DISAPPOINTMENT. 67 "Nay, I would not mock thee, Olivia. I but ~peak to thee the language of a sober truth. I do, indeed, love thee, my child-. love thee as my own-would have thee ever as mine own, and thou mightst s~e in this fondness the secret of that distrust which dogs the heels of all others. Give not way to this blindness and madness, which can profit neither thee nor me, and see the love which I feel for thee, my child I" "Peace! Peace! thou maddenest me when thou tallest to me of thy love !" "A truce to thy passion, Olivia. Thou art not wise in its indulgence. It spoils thy beauty. It takes too much from thy charm of face, as it disturbs the peace of thy heart. Thus ruffled, thouremind'stmepainfully of thy Biscayanmother, who was fiercer in her wrath than the hurricane of these tropic countries. She would suddenly grow convulsed like thyself; with a tempest that threatened everything with destruction; but she was not, as thou art, capable of soothing all down again to the most beautiful repose I" "Her passion were much the most fitting to mate with thine! 0! would that she were here! Mother! 0! mother! Where art thou now? See'st thou thy child-into what hands-into what fate she has fallen-without hope-as one who drowns, with all the seas upon him, and no strength to struggle upward into lif&?" She threw herself once more upon the cushions of the divan, her face downward. One single sob escaped her, but one, for * at that moment the hand of Don Balthazar, in seeming tender- ness, was placed upon her neck. His touch seemed to recall the more fiery feeling with which she had at first received him. She started up, and repulsed him with a spasmodic fierceness. "Thy touch is like so much poison! Beware, lest I go mad! Thou wilt drive me too far, as if thou hadst not already driven me to perdition! Canst thou not pity-wilt thou not spare me? I have been weak-I know that I am weak still-b:at I feel that 1 have a strength in me that may become fearful for mischief; if not for good. Uzicle, it were~better, far better, ere you rouse that strength into exercise, that you should drive your dagger into both of ~ur hearts." The brow ~f Don Balthazar was contracted; but a determined effort dissipa~ed the cloud. His rOle was that of conciliation. He was not unwilling to acknowledge and to respects that fearful strength which she asserted herself to possess, though latent. He felt that he had gone too far. He had given her no credit for that character~ of which she was now making a fearful exhibition. Nor, indeed, had he hitherto found any reason to suspect the presence of such fierce energies. She had hitherto borne her- self so mildly, if not feebly, that he had come rather to slight, if not to despise, the weakness of a nature, which had been almost wholly controlled by his superior will. That he had been so successful hitherto, in this respect, was due to causes already glanced at-the seclusion of her mode of life, her extreme youth, and her imperfect e ucation. The instincts of her heart, suddenly springing into birth, had opened to her eyes a new survey, and filled her soul with consciousness not less overwhelming and oppressive than stra ge. He was beginning to discover the full extent of her develop ments, when it was perhaps too late. Re- garding her as a chil ,a~pliant creature in his hands, he had but. too much given way to that satirical temper which marked his character, It was n w his aim to soothe. He was not practiced in this art, but he s piously addressed himself to the endeavor. "T'ruly, dear~Olivia thou art most perverse to-night. Is it at the moment when I am ost grateful to thee~-that thou wouldst re- pulse my acknowle ments ? I do but seek to show how greatly I prize that dutiful a section which alone, I doubt not, has caused thee to dismiss this oung and insolent knight of Portugal." "Dutiful affection !" she exclaimed, interrupting him with a bitter look and acce , which effectually interpreted into scornful irony the two words which she had borrowed from his speech. "And was it not t is, Olivia ?" "Once for ~ll, Se7 or, let this folly cease. There is no policy in this hypocrisy. ou caust deceive me no longer. I have no need to deceive t ee. We know each other. Thou knowest l I page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 / yA,5c~o~sELo~. me---thou hast sounded the hollows of my heart, and the know- ledge thou hast gained has been fatal to all my hopes. Thou knowest that I owe t1~ee. neither duty nor affection-that, if any- thing, I owe thee ha e only-an unforgiving hate that should* dream of nothing but revenge. But I have no such dream. Give nie but peace-such peace, at least, as may spring from thy forbearance, and if I meet thee with smiles no longer, I shall at least assail thee with no reproaches. I rejected the suit of Don Andres de Vasconselos simply because- alas! why should I furnish thee with a reason for this rejection? Enough, that it was with no regard to thy interests, or thy desires, that I was moved to decline his prayer. "And yet, that thou didst so, is a great gain to me, as well as to Do Soto. Failing thee and thy hacienda, this knight will now be ready to seek for a slower fortune amongst the Apalachian of Florida. We had lost him but for this. He and his brother both-that more wily adventurer-had~ set earnest eyes upon thy possessions. I doubt not that they knew well the number of thy slaves and acres, and the exact annual product of thy jancis. "Oh! be silentSefior-be. silent, for very shame. It befits not thee, least of all, to impute such sordid passions to these noble gentlemen." Even at this moment, when fully convinced of the necessity of conciliation, and really desirous not to offend, the habitual sneer of the uncle obtained the ascendency. "And thou persuades thyself-though I wonder not-that it is thy charms alone which have wrought upon the affections of these knights of Portugal." The sarcasm smote sharply on the woman sensibilities of the damsel. She replied instantly: "I think not of it! I would that I could think of neither them nor thee. Small pleasure, indeed, do I find in thinking of thee, and smaller the. profit, in such condition as is mine, in giving thought to knight or noble, on whose scutcheon there rests no stain. Why wilt thou madden me with these things?' V, f~r a moment, I have bee~ gentleman, Heaven heart has smitten m ~if the deadlier tongu heart this language, ness that, whatever heard also by thine listen to the plead such intercourse mu~ is ever upon my foo "Nay, but thou v watch thee but mine art so precious iii tin She gave him bu that he felt all i1~s pr "Of a truth, Olivi I could not have lov "Father! Mothe thine own! That yet, I know not! I not what could hay brutal nature. Oh! mine uncle-when I opened upon t~iy cru lest 1 be in the powe souls, whose study is ovation. Mother of cover me with thy.h unless the white sp my aid!" A passion of tears what relieved the swo Balthazar felt that he her in the mo&ient o patiently, till her tea to his policy-his bi ( ATHERLY AFFECTION. 69 weak and vain enough to think of any nqble knows how suddenly and soon my own for the guilt and folly of such fancies. But of Remorse were not spei~king ever at my here were rebuke sufficient in the conscious- speech is addressed to my ear, must be ;-that even did I presume to love, or to gs of a lover, the precious sweetness of t be without secret or security. ~y watch steps, and thy miserable spies rong'st me, child. I have set no eyes to ~wn, and mine watch thee only because thou ir sight." a single look, so cold-so freezingly sad, found scorn and denial. ,it is so. Hadst thou been my own child, d thee better" Hear him! Alas! wherefore was I not ight have secured me from this fate! And :now not what thou oldest sacred! I know been safe in thy hands, from thy bad and Senior Balthazar-I will call thee no more Look upon thee, as I do now, with eyes fairly ~lties and crime,-I feel a doubt, a dread, of some fearful emissary of the enemy of how to cut me off from repentance and sal. rod, be merciful! Jesu, descend to me and ly shelter. Oh! I feel that I shall madden, its whom I pray for shall come quickly to followed this wild apostrophe, and some- len heart and the overlcrnrdened brain. Don. must pause. He did not dare to address the paroxysm. He waited, watching her s flowed freely, and then subduing himself ter reckless mood to the nece~ity before C % page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 VASCONSELO$. '~1 him, and with which he felt that it would not do to trifle farther, -he carefully adapted his speech to the task of soothing. In some measure he succeeded. She grew calmer, and milder, and he now approached her where she sat upon the divan, and with- out interruption, save from her sobs occasionally, continued. the glozing speech which was to quiet her anger. She answered him but seldom, and then capriciously-sometimes with tears only, and again with some burst of indignant speech, that drove him back to his first positions. "Oh! why wilt thou, dearest Olivia, give way to these pas- sionate phrensies'? of what profit to conjure up such wild and gloomy reflections'? They nothing help your situation or mine. They restore us nothing that is lost, but .t~nd rather to embitter the only consolations that remain to " "What are they'?" she asked fiercely. "To economize the better feelings. To forgive where we can -to spare when we can "Ah! I owe thee much for thy forbearance." "I feel that I deserve thy chiding; but, dearest child, I will do better. I will give thee no cause for anger henceforward. Only be merciful.-I owe thee much, Olivia,-much for the past.- That thou hast sent off this young gallant with denial, leaves me to-night with a light heart." "And mine! mine is breaking 1"-was the wild finish which her lips sobbed out at the conclusion of his sentence. The deep despairing agony of her manner admirably suited the language of her lips. "Nay, nay, my child; not so! The world is but begun with thee. There is sunshine for thee, and flowers in abundance. Thou wilt forget-" "Never! never! Oh! would it could break, break at once, that I may feel no more this terrible struggle-this pang that is worse than death! But its doom is not to break. There must be more agonies. I must undergo many deaths,-and that blight of all-that accursed bitter blight I" The picture of her grief was beyond~ all practice. There could be no question of 1 face buried in the without an effort ti her up. Again sh which she had sho~ him, she again abai was in vain, or oni "Olivia, dearest What grief hast th day before '?-" "Ay, Senor," ~ last week, and mc hour, when-." And she closed her hands as she d presence. "Olivia7dear c "Child me not! a child only to crus let me never see into absolute phren ever. It is tho~e d ignorance and wea them now, to which my memory! make this dagger, and th~ with death and mi spark of the man feeling of pity in th milk from the same She clutched at t ed it, but that he gr "Oh! thou shoul thy dagger. If tho more. If thou cans thou art my bane o ~ild !" Thou hs an~ nt thy child. Away, i thee more. If thou would y, I implore thee to forbear. ys, those weeks, those mont ness, I had not felt these a~ I owe them all! Blot these c me forget them, I command ust it into this heart, which ery. Do it, uncle-do it, if 'thin thy bosom-if; indeed, soul for the poor orphan ~ bosom with thy own." e weapon in his girdle, and ~v ppled her by the wrist, and] st do it-such a blow woul wilt not, hence! Let me not bring me the forgetful y, and oanst bring no reined' known me as entreat thee- not drive me -to depan for- his, when in my onies, as I feel ut, Se~ior, from I thee, or take thou hast filled thou hast one thou hast one hose sire drew ould have seiz- teld her fast. I never shame never see thee Less I implore, r. Thy words LN UNWELCOME PARENT. 71 he terrible earnestness of' her woe. With her cushions of the divan, she lay silent or sobbing, ) move, until he endeavored once more to raise betrayed. that shuddering horroroat his touch, in several times before; and, flr~nly repulsing idoned herself to her afflictions. His soothing r ~offered new provocation to her sorrows. child, wherefore now this unwanted passion'? )U now, that thou hadst not yesterday, and the e answered, with a fearful vehemence, "and .ths agone, even to that dark and damnable ~he sentence abruptly, covering her face with d so, as if to shut from sight some terrible I 'I page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 VASCONSELOS. I of soothing I despise. As A liVe, uncle, I loathe thy presence. ~y voice sounds hissingly in mine ears~, like that of the serpent, who carries a deadly poison beneath his tongue." The inspired priestess, drunk with the sacred fury, never looked so sublimely fearful. Her great flashing eyes, lighting up the paleness of her cheeks-her widely distended nostril, her lofty and erect figure, and the wild but beautiful action of her frame, actually seemed to confound and overwhelm her companion. He spoke-but. how feeble now were his words of soothing-his en.. treaties-his arguments! "Olivia! This is, indeed, wilful. Of what avail now all this horror, this professed loathing?" "Professed! Oh! Man, man! Vain man! What seest thou in me at this moment, to make thee dream that I could say anything that I do not feel! But of what avail thou ask'st? Of what avail, indeed, except for' curses-perhaps for 4eath! But that the grief can bring no relief is sufficient cause for suffering. Could .it avail-could anything avail-would I suffer thus? Would I seek no remedy? Would I not go through the fur. nace in its search, and gladly give up the life which is tutored to reconcile itself to all manner of sin and sorrow, as it is made to see that nothing can availt Oh! Blessed Virgin, if my lips may now be permitted to nam thy name, and to appeal to thee, what' hast thou suffered me to s e? In the brief space of a single week mine eyes have opened t the truth. I behold now what I neither saw nor dreamed before. Oh ! ' Seiior,-brother of my wretched father, what hast thou do et Thou hast slain the very hope-the life of hope and happine s of his only child, given to thee in blessings and in sacred tr st, all of which thou hast trampled un- der foot in scorn." "Not so, dearest OlivI'a Thou seest this matter through a false medium. The e is not of the magnitude which thou deem'st it. Who is there. to b tray our secret? Who is it that knows -' "Is it not enou h that I know,-that I feel-thattha dreadful consciousness is shing me to the earth, i~iak1ng my soul a thing of constant r~ and apprehensions the most terrible ?" The wisdom of: not forbear a rema ject of her griefs, present condition o "Olivia, this dr never possessed th4 conselos. Beware- The fearful spin suffer' him to finish. "And I say tc treacherous brothel jured man-do thc by thee, I will not sayest justly, indoe I did not well cone hadst done me. ~ pernicious malice a in moments of obli~ know! My tears, well knowest, fron which thou wert if eyes are opened, ~ knowledge of Phili feeble by compelli only when I knew know myself'. I tJ~ speaking to my cor It is in the birth of I am made terribly curse! Enough! thy wanton malice No more to-night Sleep! sleep! can and such a change! missive-overcome ~anger, and blaste 4 73' OLIVIA S INDI(ThATION. on 'Baithazar was again at k, which, however true in re~ was yet very unseasonably r her feelings. adful consciousness of whici e until thine eyes beheld th my child, lest -." was roused again within he thee, Balthazar de Alvaro, base iind cruel guardian-sh beware! Iflamtobecrt be reproached or threatened it, that until I beheld this kni ~ive the full extent of the w i'hat thy perfidy, thy stealth, rid fatal power, which had wi ion, had done me the ci~uelle~ my reproaches have not beer the beginning! But of the e sole cause, I had little kn nd, as thou sayest, with the p de Vasconselos! Oh! ma] ig my tongue to repeat thai him that I began darkly ai en, for the first time, heard t science as if from the depths ( what had been my blessing sensible of what is now my p It is wonderful that I have spee hath opened all the floods of Let us separate-though'J I ever sleep again? Thou se I am no more a child,-] when my innocent sleep dre~ by a gult in which, Holy hult. He could ~pect 'to the sub- ferred to in the' t~iou speakest, s Philip de Vas- She did not unworthy and timeless and per. shed and cursed by thee! Thou ~ht of Portugal, 'ong which thou ~hy cunning, thy 'ought upon me t of evils, I well sj~ared, as thou ~wful wrecks of pledge. Mine moment of my :e not my heart name. It wa& id hopelessly to ie terrible voice f n~y own heart. nd my joy, that i'ivation and my r~h for this! But my indignation. go not to sleep. ~st me changed; dind, weak, sub- med nothing of Mother, be my * page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 witnessIhadnoshai~e! I the highest intelligence of ~ know thee for what t~iou tru on thy pretence of m~mhood keep me still & victin~!" "Olivia 1" "Follow me no touch: thou art wise, and w uldst eyes, raving aloud to the ab ble secret." Thus speaking, wi h am eyes flashing almost super ately aside, and defy~g the paralyzed to ofThr, d~rted h4 VA~OON8ELO8. ~m a woman now. I have risen to oman, only through despair. I now Ly art--base, bmutal,-and oh! shame with a corrupt selfishness that would ne not-look no more upon me-if iot see me a maniac beneath thine ~shed people of thy and my misera- 5 extended as if for judgment, and atural fires, she waved him passion- obstruction, which he was too much adlong from the apartment. "Now wi Make su As mow To blush Come do Might Pu The ener SHE was gone stood abashed-i the unexpected I he began to reco' themselves in br "This grows danger to be hus like all the rest. must not be suffc stroy herself. I n His hand, pei dagger. A mona the room, pursi tered, as if about but he paused alt passed once moi opening a door in ducting to his ow~ a table he threw with so little hee( of the fabric cret "I was a fool," fool to confront h4 CHAPTER VI. 1 these damned conspirators againstt Virta ~h felonious traffic of her serva~its, the night to shudder; cause her fair pla with secret passion that they i~ay not with holy succor I Oh I th~it angels on armor when they would, ~nd strange y ete he strikes. "-TIlE PAIuIItDE. from sight before h~ recov stunned rather-pale ~nd ali ry he had awakened~ At er himself; and his gathering )kefl soliloquy. more serious. It mu~t be 1 Ied by the shortest method, i But I must prepare myself f red t destroy me, q ev~n ifs] ci~re these violence of pa~ consciously, griped I ent a~er, he seized hurriedly kg, 4t first, the pass~Lge wh~ to prc~ceed also in the direction lost a~ soon as he had enteredd 'e into the apartment which the oj~posite wall, entered am i chamber. Here, setting th4 himself into a light ch~4r of b [,and so heavily, that the sli ked and threatened to sink b he said, solilpquizing moodil ~r in her paro~cysm. is the 6 iets Le bred himself. He aost trembling, at .ength, but slowly, thoughts betrayed )Oked to. It is a 'it passes not off )r the worst. She ~e resolves to de~ sion-and I will." he handle of his the light, and left At 'Olivia had en-. a of her chamber; it, wheeled about, he had left, and, )ther passage con- light down upon amboo work, and ght wicker frame neath his weight. ~r* "Iwasbuta a that she hath as 75 11 ill page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 VASCONSELOS. little measure in her anger as her fierce Biscayan mother. Yet how lately hath this sc~rt of fury developed itself in her., How wonderfully to-night did she resemble her. There was the same dark, fiery eye, sending out ~udden flashes; the same sudden swelling of the great v~in across her forehead, till it seemed big to bursting; the same show of the teeth, gleaming white, close set, and gnashing at moments the thin lips that seemed to part and turn over, like those of a hungry tiger. What a resemblance! I never saW the like before. Yet, when I beheld the likeness, that~ I should have dealt in the old sarcasm; that I should not have forborne. I should have known enough of the mother, to have waited for the moment of her exhaustion. Who takes the fish will do wisely n~t to thwart him in the struggle. W~hy should he not sti~uggle, ~since it avails nothing against his capture? He is ~o much the soo~ier in the toils. Let him beat the water while he lists, until it becomes easier to die than to strive. Such is the true art of deali4g with women in their passion, especially when they carry tempers of such intensity. It is in her exhaus- tion only that she yiel4ls; and the exhaustion comes the sooner where the flurry is so ~xtreme. With opposition, she finds new strength; but, taken fr~ the lull, with fondness or persuasion, and she cannot help but yi~ld!" He paused, rested lAs elbow on the table, and supported his* brow upon his hands f4~r a whilein silent meditation. A few mo- ments only passed thus; his mood was too much excited for quiet. He started up fro~n hi~ seat, and again instantly resumed. "Something has gone wrong," he' muttered. "She hath dis- covered something of he secret. How much, it behooves that I * should know. ~She kn~ws the worst, that is certain; but can she have found out the agencies ~ I must summon Anita. That hag of hate hath not betra~Ted me I know. She too much loves the evil to do aught whidh should prevent its exercise. She too much hated the moth@ to be merciful to the daughter. She hath too wi1l~ngly served i4e in this matter to have repented of her share in the performai~ee. But she may have kept her secret loosely; she may hav~ been watched; that Olivia ha~ suspected her, I know; auc will be sleepless me her." He touched a. ed his soliloquy, "These occurs side. She hath ble. Will he st~ deeply 6Iled wit] easily satisfied w necks; or, faiin~ Every man is ha tile, or spiteful derful change in yesterday, so m at the worst, one Thus speaking contemplated the his manner, and vey, which denot cold and selfish, long and terrible in his history, an lute connection ~ that the past, onc indifference with himself to the ex to contemplat&. finger over the ru freely upward on appears upon his ent story. "Ay, it is ther revenge! Little triumphed over THE UNIVERSAL P.d JNAcEr with suspicion once ajwakenc till it makes discovery. I r tassel depending from ~the wai pursuing another trains of tho A knights of Portugal! The, dismissed one of them, but Ii y content with one rejection the one image, and o1~ rare a1 .th denial; butlwillyetpu in thisIs~ll t~ust ~nyda~ tinted by some viper,6rspid~ isect. These are mine! Ye~ ~ter, they should not gP.re me ( ek; and now, a tires ~! W.~ remedy, ai~id thi8 canr~ot fail: he drew forth his dagger fro weapon darkly as he ~poke. he cold intelligence in his e~ A the reckless hardihqod of ~ ~nd which had been thorough criminal experience. It is uc I recall the events of a life w ith the progress which is be e known, would leave us littl ~rhich the bold, bad man befo caution of any crimes which it See him as he turns the dag st-spots that darken its point, both sides! A fierce smile, race, as he makes the survey, ~ still !" he muttered-" pre did Nicolas de Vergaray ny heart, that Ii should so so L. 77 an intense spirit ust see and exam- scot; then resum- ught. vex me on every e is no less a trou- These lovers,- rogance,-are not my foot upon their ger to their hearts. ~r-venomous rep- but for this won- ause of fear. But II, there is always, the sheath, and There was that in' e, during this sur- nature, originally y indurated by a t for us to go back ich have no abso- ore us. Enough, doubt of the cool ~e us, would school became his policy er, and passes his and dot the blade -a demoniac grin and tells a suffici- ious proof of my fancy, when he n find the way to' I page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 VASCONBELOS. his! I would not clean* e the bright steel which his blood had tainted. I preferred th~t the stains shouldforever remind me of my triumph at tl~e last ;-ay, in the moment when he fondly fancied he had all to himself the happiness which.he had despoiled of! He, at least enjoyed it only in his dreams !" The door opened. T~he soliloquy was arrested. He restored the dagger to its sheath, and looked up at the intruder.. This was an old woman of about sixty, a mestizo, a cross of the negro and the red-man. She ~ombined, in very equal degree, the iiiost conspicuous characteristics of the two. She had the high cheek bones, the thin lips, the full chin, the glossy dark flowing hair of the Indian, with the rel+eating forehead and flat nose of the black. Tier eyes were of the sly, sharp, gipsy cast, the brows quite gray, and thus in singular co~ftrast with her hair, which was quite as black as in the days of ~ier childhood ;-if; indeed, days of child- hood had ever been kno~Yn to her! She had not the appearance of one who had ever been child. The wear and tear of vexing pas- sions had scarred her fare with every sign of premature old age. Her skin was a series ofi wrinkles, like the ripples of spent billows upon a gradually rising shore. Her teeth were gone, with the exception of a couple of very sharp snags, that stood out in front, between her thin lips, like those of a squirrel. She had no flesh. upon her bones, t~nd her clothes, thin and light, according with climate and season, hung upon her skeleton form as if from a peg upon the wall! A gauze handkerchief; wrapped imper- fectly abov~ her neck, ~uffered her skinny bosom to appear, but without increasing her attractions. Her figure, thus betraying the signs of age, was yet singularly erect. Her step was firm, though stealthy. You saw that she set her foot down firmly, though. you did not h~ar it; and, though moving with caution, she was yet quick of movementt. She did not wait for a sum-. mons, but advanced at ~nce to her master, and stood up before him; her eyes lighting {zp beneath the gray brows, like lamps of naphtha in sepulchral caverns. "~~.Give me som~ wine, Anita," was his first salutation. She brought it him; a flask encas brought at the sam "Get another gc She did as she tion; as if to obey customer to all rn~ Don Balthazar 6 single gulph. He him. "Drink," said lv She did as she w and her eyes glitte~ itual. After a pau words, he spoke: "Well, has she I "No !" was the 1 of the red-man. "It is strange! mother, as we both ticular, Anita !" The eyes of the which was absolute "She shows the shown before!. B~ ate-has she drank "Yes; but not uneasy. I see! S This was spoken class, but we do no "Something mom as she discovered' " I don't know ti e once, about a ~ rowsy every day.' "Ah !--and you' ANITA. Corth from a cupboard, and ~d in wicker-work of straw. e moment. She said nothing blet for yourself; Anita, and was commanded, quietly, an was a thing of course, and ~ nner of comn)r~ands. [led his glass, 'and swallowed filled it a second time, and ~, "Anita." as bade, emptied the goblets 'ed with a humid light, pale a placed it before The goblet was ~it !" I without hesita- he had been ac- I;he contents at a seated it before ~s soon as filled, id intensely spir- ~e, in which she seemed wholly to wait on his eeu troublesome ?" ~rief reply, in the short, shrill, She has been showing me t have seen it often, in other woman glared with an expr Ly fiendish. blood," he continued, "as t how is it that she does not ~ nuch! Very little! She si he thirAq something wrong." in a patois common to the choose to imitate her. e than thinks, I fancy! Sh4 F', at she has discovered anythim eek ago, that she wondered' yet soft manner he image of her ~ys; you, in par- ssion of hatred, I never saw it Jeep ~ Has she aspects. She is persons, of her knows. How .g. She said to vhy she felt so page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] '80 YASOONSEI1OS. "I wondered too! That was all !" "There is something~ more. Are yowsure, Anita, that she has not found you sleeping? Are you sure that you have not hap- pened upon a flask of canary at the w~ong moment ?" "No !" "Well! I am sure that she has made some discovery! The question is what ?-and how much? She knows the worst-that is certain." The woman grinned. "But does she know by what means we have worked? You say she eats and drinks little. Is this only the lack of appetite, or does she suspect he~r food ?" The woman avowea her ignorance. "But she ate and drank yesterday ?" "Yes; but very litt~le." ~J2~id she seem affected afterwards ?" "Very little! She was drowsy. She took her siesta; but when I came in to loo~,t at her, she rbse up." "Can she have become accustomed t'o it already? Does it cease to affect her? ~Tou must increase the dose, Anita." "It may kill her !" "Hardly! How much do you give her now 'P' The woman took a small phial from her bosom and held it up to the light. It contained a slightly greenish liquor. She desig.. nated, with her finger ~1pon the phial, the quantity given. "That should be enough, certainly! But if she refuses the draught-rejects the food! That is the question. The next question is, whether she refuses from want of appetite, simply? You must change the food, Anita. Tempt her appetite. Get some new dishes, and forbear the drug, until her suspicions, if she have any, ar~ quieted ;-.--.say, for the next three days. Mean.. while, be vigilant, and see, that you are not surprised. You note all who approach her ?" "All !" "Now is the time for circumspection. She loves this knight of Portugal," "She has just r "Yes; the your "He comes sehi "But is not the closely watched, ~ propose to her wi time, when I am al and stop the progi him. How has sh The woman ans' "Air! Isee! T Anita. But, let if necessary, you mu "Unless you mc as can be safely gi' "Yes, if she tak drink, or does so not forget what yo The eyes of the "You have not I Anita seized th before her, which s "To-night, I ha'i~ all her passions, ti trouble, unless we t which she feels for t the younger. She away to lorida, o she may upside mi brought ut all her thought . They Woman s e was a n in yours. If we h this Port guese. ~ The w man grin "She are not! 4* THE CONFEDERATES. fused him." ger brother. But the other " om." less powerful when@he comes 1J~} hen together. He must no be Lhout interruption. If you d sent, becoming too impress e, sh ess. In that man I see my ane! ~ concealed it from you ?" vered by a vacant stare. Eiere are some things quite to sub ere be nothing which escape youx ~t increase the potion." an to kill her,-no! She no tak ren." ~s it all! But, when she re uses aringly, then more may be g yen. r owe her mother." woman glared fearfully. ~rgotten your own daughter?' flask, unbidden, and again fillet re emptied at a draught. e seen the mother in the dau hter Lough as yet suppressed. he w ake heed to her. Our danger is in his Portuguese knight-the el er, I ~ares nothing for him. If I c n get otherwise disposed of; all m y go o her old lethargy. Her p~s ion I other passions. rThey make her ~ quicken her intelligence. Sh is nc ionth ago. She is no longer m~ ed not~ she will escape us. She he will expose us! " ied with exultation. To expose us is to tell-" rey must be suffered to Film, at any )W yo~irself; She loves tle for you, watch. If es as much to eat and You must I the glass She has ill give us the passion mean-not them both well; and ~'or him~ has vigilant and )t the same r power, or will marry 81 page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 VASCONSELOS. NEFARIOUS PROJECTS. 83 "Very true; but you remember that, when her Biscayan mother was aroused t9 ~passion, she had i~o prudence! She re- vealed every thing! It will be so with Olivia. I am sure of it, from what I have seen to-night. That is our danger. Let her, in this parox~rsm, be assured that all her hopes of this Portu- guese knight depend on escape from us, and she will rush into the marketplace with all her secrets! She will destroy herself in the fQry which would destroy us. And, Anita, if she can win belief; she will not so surely destroy herself. We know that she is guiltless, in her soul, of any crime ;-we know that the whole wrong is ours "Yes; but the shame V' "Is something in Spain; n~t so much here! and pity and sympathy will lessen it anywhere! We must beware of any extremity. Now is the time for all your subtlety, if we would be safe. See t~ it; observe her closely; see that she and this knight of Portug~4-'--the elder, mark you-from the younger, indeed we have no cause of fear-do not meet, unless under &our eye or mine; and that they do not~ &ome to any understand- ing. We must keep them from mutual confessions. They both love passionately; but better for ~us that they were both dead, than that either should speak of passion to each other's ears! Let her but hear and answer him, and she is happy, Anita-hap- py! think of thai;, Anita !-think of that! How will~ you relish to see the daughter of that mother happy in the a s of her lover, while you are led off to prison, knowing the fate of your .ou'n daughter-the debt of thirty years unpaid; while your son - "Tell me of him! Have you heard?" was the eager inquiry of the woman, who, during the speech of the other-which was evidently designed to goad her passions into phrensy,-had risen from her seat, and moved hurriedly, with clasped hands, and in intense agitation, over the floor. "Tell me of him! Of Mateo ;-have you heard, my master?" She approached him closely as she made the inquiry, and bent her face forward~ almost touching his own. Her words, earnestly and in barely "He formed~ I have "Tin from ti "No pledge shall d( "Un is half I must I am II bitter a " Dri The I combine When light, h4 "Am eat as y closets crease t "It v her die The Don Th then, as ~ "No subject The ~ big of tI "No .pressivel~ to be audi is yet ii ble band, bent him i nks, my I .e adelant~ tyct! 13 for Flori so with] i will not il this ni~ taken the ~ee to her )py! 5h ~ing here [1 my soul nk, Anita, ag willing ~d within ~he had f ~r company I now wal ou provide ~pen to h( [ie dose." ill kill he light red4 ithazar r if indiffer not yet- is to susp roman ap~ ie finger, I~ar of th spoken, were yet in such 51 le to his ears. the mountain fastnesses, and I have sent to him by a oney." aster, thanks! But have y do?" t if we can get these Portug a, I shall succeed with Soto, c oiia Isabella when he is deps o with the expedition ?" t, I had resolved upon it. N ther way. There is too muc ~ muttered the woman: or nothing. As if I had no I', y obeyed. The instincts of b er, made it easy to comply v ished, her eyes glittering w on said-- h! She must eat and drinli put things in her w~y to t4 r search, only prepare what if she eats or drinks. But lened fiercely in the vindicti guarded her coldly and quiet ~ntly, remarked- .~not that! it might peril eve: 7, Lolon-. )roached him softly, and, witi ,aid, whisperingly-. ~t. I have a potion which shal ibdued accents as at the head of a special messenger. )u ~got his pardon iese knights fairly failing with him, rted." ow, my resolution Ii to care for here. Ha! ha! As if memory to make lack and red man, ith such an order. Lth a moist white * If she will not ~mpt her. Leave re put there. In- what then? Let ~e woman's eye. y for a moment, 'ything-it might a .~ignificant lift- I so silently steal 83 page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 VASCONSELOS. into the brain, that none shall suspect. It will leave no foot.. print, no finger-marks,-no blood, n~ blackness, no sign behind It, yet will it seize upon the life as surely and as suddenly, as if the dagger had been driven right into the close places of the heart. Say but the word~--.--.--." The dark-souled man shuddered, as he heard, and saw the fierce, eager, intense glare of the speaker's eyes. He said hur-. "No! Anita! no! I will not that. I will that she should live-iive---yes !-.-the time is not yet come 1,' "It is as you say! Yet had I not forborne to give her this poison, but that thou hadst in thy power a more terrible death! I had rather thou shouldst slay her-thou, of her own blood:--. and I saw thee do it." " I slay her, Anita! Thou art mad! I tell thee, I would not touch her life, for the world, if " "Ay, W-if she saves thee not the danger and the trouble. But It was the life of the heart and the hope, and the woman that I beheld thee bent to slay, and thy poison was so much more fatal than mine! Ha! ha! ha!" *"Oh! get thee hence, Anita! The wine begins to work in thee. But help thyself to another goblet, and to sleep now. Thy watch has been a weary one." The woman yawned at the suggestion, filled the goblet, drank, and was about to retire without a word, when she seemed to re- collect, and again spoke, as usual, in those low, subdued tones, which, when employed to utter passionate language, are so sin-. gularly impressive. "Do not forget Mateo! let me see him once more-bring him to me-and I will drug for thee a thousand lives I" Balthazar took her hand and wrung it warmly, nodded his head affirmatively, but said nothing. The woman went away, without obeisance or farther nod. "Well, let the worst come !" muttered the Seiior, after she had departed) "and Anita has her own remedies. If it cannot be otherwise, let her use the potion. She can burn afterwards to prove n never b He s weed to quized. but tho~ to himi any sen guage fi "It n nay, it is not st the wro~ If heavc loathing it, then her cons must di4 cessity. fears pe Let thi~ These I? see to Philip ci age him win him those of But ~ criminal ther inj AN ANTIDOTE F'OR LOVE. te guilties . But the time is not yet-: ~. I wou d escape that necessity, if I c~ sated him elg folded some strips of ti ~ether, an lighted an extempore cigar, Baithaza' de Alvaro was a cold, UflS4 igh his thoughts ran upon crime, it won] ~ow to sup ose them dictated by hatred. ament of ~iostiity that he pursued his lly testify d. ay kill he ; true! What then ~ It ~ ill help. It will save her. The quali ch as will bring down punishment upo she su rs may well atone for that wi n be no able, she is more worthy of and if eli be not a dream of the prh my fate ust assure her of a full reven~ cilation. t all events, I must seek mine ~, if needf I to secure this! yet, we ma~ If we ca chain her tongue, my fears p ~ish, she ay live. Time will show. UIU. )rtuguese hat. lix ~ Vascons must gi'~ from the ambition. o need no who sits pursuit of ow.. prove iuuiutu~ ~mu. tin knights disappear with the exj ust move Soto to show bet ~los than he hath yet done. e him some distinctions--.-som paths of love, by opening b pursue the meditations of th nd muses before us. They the clues which are already~ ot yet. May it n e famous Cuban nd still he solilo~ rupulous villain; d be an injustice It was not from ictirn, as his lan- 11 not hurt her; y of her offence her head: and ~ch she has done. its pity than its stood, as I deem e! Let these be own safety. She escape this~ne-. rish; and if my must have time. ay yet go well. edition. I must er favor to this. He must encour-. command-and tter glimpses to o subtle and bold conduct us no far-. our grasp. page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] CHAPTER VII. "Sir, in my heart there was a kind ef fighting That would not let rue ~leep.... Rashly- And praised be rashness for it I-Let us know, Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall; and that should teach us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Bough hew them how we wilL"-E&m~ur. THE moment that Olivia reached her own chamber, she threw herself prostrate before fine portrait of the Virgin that hung against the wall of the apartment. She uttered no prayer, no sob, no sound; shed no tear; gave no outward sign, beyond her prostration, of the object of her quest, or of the agony that preyed upon her; asked not, in language, for the peace and se- curity which she sought, but lay at length, her humility and grief apparent only in the one action, as if with the conviction that all her woes were known; her contrition; the shame from which she suffered; the faint hope which she dared not encourage; the fond passion, which. she felt to be pure as grateful, but whh~h her conscience bade her not to entertain. She did not once look up to the be* and blessing features of that Mother of Love and Mercy, whose eyes; she yet felt, were looking sweetly and ten- derly down, even into the secret recesses of her own full and bursting heart. And thus she lay, prone, motionless, as if her life and breathing had ceased in the utter prostration of her hope and person. There is something very touching in the spectacle c~f a person totally ignorant of religion as a subject of thought and examina- tion, who yet welcomes it~ as a faith; who believes with sponta- neous consent; who receives it as a mystery; seeks not to ana- lyze or solve it; prefers it, indeed, as a mystery~ and confides, 80 without of high versed i of the C to be un case aiw sympathy instinct, medium, her safet doubt a~ We ma' medium but her 4 only-pt to the fu kind 5t0( benevok himself adopt. making I with offe Sudde her chair eighteen- her slum still heav sleep wa coarse a whom th dominate qualities at her a~ up into ti hope. 'I possibly misgiving birth an( ithe doct )untry. 6leretood. ~ys with t [es, and a not of th Better, y, and th to whom r smile at of comn confidencee ace of mi [1 attained d before nee of Go which a Po suppo cebleness ~ce and gi ily, while her opern -a mulat bers. Sir y with sle not nec rd meaub ~ more si d over al of cunnir preach, s( ie face of he sugge~ make us OLIVIA'S FAITH. to all its promises! Thoi I connections, Olivia de Aiv~ 'mes of. the theologian, as the he knew not that there was She simply felt. Her faitji, ~e most pure of heart, was l~a~ natural sense of weakness. )ught, and it reached her t~u indeed, as it was so. Do4t ~ good faith of those aroufr only and certainly, she couli her securities; we may hol~l iunication with Deity, to be is unimpaired; and regarding ud reliance-confidence ;-t] ,in her case, as if the visible her. Nor are we permitted I accepts any medium of corn mre faith, however mistake] ~e otherwise, would be to ai and ignorance objects of put 11t. Olivia still lay in this posit d; and a person entered-a ~ ~o, who had been evidently ju ~ came in yawning; her face ep. Her features were of a issary to impair her intelligeu igless. She was one of thc uggish characteristics of the others: and* united, in sing g, with an excessive stoildi ated herself upon a little s the mulatto~ with eyes of in tion occurred to her for a ix of this creature? Is she 87 gir wealthy, and ~ro was as little simplest peasant Anything needing as perhaps is the ed~wholly on the [t was a thing of ough a sensuous [ng her strength, * her, she had no I turn for refuge. Lier choice of the ~ mistaken one; bhe object sought ie end was quite Saviour of man- ~o doubt that the munication, with i, may honestly ~cuse his justice, ishment, equally ion, the door~ of in of sixteen or ~t aroused from vacant, her eyes ort to show that we. They were se mulattoes, in negro race pre- iilar degree, the ~y. Olivia rose ftle, and looked juiry, if not of oment-" Can I capable of the page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 VASCdNBELO8. degree of faith and sympathy which .1 need in my present strait?" The inquiry was a natural one. Every young damsel inclines to put trust in her waiting maid, and in this relation Juana stood to her mistress. But the latter had too long had experience of the characteristics of the maid-servant. She was ~not ignorant of her cunning, but she had~ good reason to believe that this was all pledged to the service of her uncle, through the medium of the old hag Anita, who was the grand- mother of the girl. As for her affections and sympathies, these Olivia had never yet been able to awaken. She had been indul- gent and considerate; had bestowed her gifts freely, but beyond the single moment in which they were bestowed, she had no proof that the benefit was remembered with gratitude. The blank, indifferent, stolid features which she surveyed were full of discouragement, and after a brief examination of them, the un- hapjy damsel, with a sigh, averted her eyes, abandoned her pur- pose of solicitation-if she had entertained any-and submitted to be disrobed in profound silence. The girl was not disposed to bi~eak this silence. She performed' her task drowsily. It was n~t a protracted one: and this done, she' retired for the night, leaving her mistress alone, once more, to commune with her own sorrows; 91 "There is no h\ope !" she exclaimed~ mournfully, sitting in her night dres~ where the maid had left her, her hands folded. upon her lap, ani her moist eyes looking vacantly up at the Virgin wit an expression of the most woeful self-abandonment. "Yet why should.1 hope! What is there to hope? What have I to live for? The light is gone, the love! I dare not love. It is criminal to love. It is now 'criminal to live! Yet, Mother of Mercy, I dare not think of death. I cannot die! I would not. Yet, it is not because I fear! Oh no'! Yet, if it be not fear, c~n it be hope that makes, me unwilling? Oh! weak and miserable ~inner that I am, can I dream to unite the fate of any brave cavalier with mine? Shall I glide like a serpent into the bosom of so noble and gentle a knight as Philip de Vasconse- los, and beguile him into love for so base a thing as I.-! that live a lie to that I a such as I Alas! if unseemly' with af preach, him fore forever I do I che for its fu tleman? Do I nol knight b( aught of fidelity? he-my mother, feel it ii under th And, before t hope, b refreshing too wild grace. ness. tenance. tainted 51 was the and she tasted, & dishes w to be mi, for her s terous ~ God and rn-and v~ .e into a fa love alor ~' that I 51 rvor and nd nothing v'er-to p rom his 1 ish this d [filment? Down, f love him loved by what hat Who da uncle-rn sake the my hear noonday peaking t te picture prayer, ; mercies a conflict ['here wer Ike unhap We hay suspicions ~ ~ase. Sh knew wit tting only th which ~ed. Her ~fety; for ~ent empl THE CONFLICT. loathing to myself! Shall ho hate my own knowledge ith that lam worthy of his er e 'could make me worthy, I ould do so. Oh! I could r truth that should leave hi: g to regret! To grow to I ~s into his very heart.-to dr ps !-what a drea~n of happi eam? Am I base enough t( Can I do so great a wrong t )Olish thought! We still ! WI ? Will I not love him truly woman? Knows he aught-v happ'd to me? will it lesser e speak-who reveal the terr~ ~ fate! my eternal enemy! 'ild thought from me to slay, even while he sleep~ heavens !" mus passionately, she threw h of the Virgin, whom she inv~ o silence her tumultuous pa of prayer were not hers.' to be subdued tb quiet, un1es~ ~ other reasons for this confli y girl was really feeble, and ~ heard it intimated that she ~~ith regard to the food proll now felt assured that her foc ~ what cruel object. She lel in the necessity of life; and ~ she had reason to believe thE auction and forbearance had n so subtly was her food prep~ )yed in drugging~ it, that the d 89 I who know all -shall I delude brace and love? hen were it not quite his passion n nothing to re- im-to cling to Ink life and joy iess! Oh! why hope, or to toil so noble a~gen- tat is the wrong? ~s never yet was ill he ever know his trust or my ble secret'?-not ~hom-Mary, m I sometimes upon his couch rself once more ~ked, as with the ~sions. But. the ler soul was in by a miracle of ~t and 'this weak- in want of sus- probably enter- 'ered her. Such d was drugged; ~ much of it un- voiding all those lethargic potion )t always availed red by the dex.- ~ug had been in. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 YASGONSELOS. produced into fruits even; the integrity of which one would sup- pose could not be invaded unless by some external proofs being appar4t. In this way only could she account for the dreamy and pr6strating moods which she had occasionally' felt during the day. Here, then, was a young woman, of bigh birth, proud con- nections, and ample fortune, an unsuspected prisoner in her :own dwelling, denied, virtually, the necessary aliment of life. Truly the case was a pitiable one !-Olivia de AWaro, sustained during all the scenes in which we lave beheld her, chiefly by the intens- ity of her excitements, was now near to fainting from absolute want of food. The cravings of nature were not to be withstood. She rose from her prostrate position; seizing her lamp, which she shaded carefully with a handkerchief on all sides but one, she cautiously opened the door of her chamber and entered upon the passage which, more or less directly, conducted to almost every apart. ment in the house. Adjoining her own was a small room, not much more than a closet, which had been assigned to the waiting maid Juana. Into this she looked boldly; intending, if the girl were yet awake, to speak to her of some object, any but that which she really had in view. But the girl, as she ex- pected, from a previous knowledge ~of her habits, already slept profoundly. She closed the door cautiously behind her, and, with feet set down carefully, she stole along the passage leading 'to the opposite quarter of the house. The passage, at a certain point, divided, one arm conducting to the apartment of Don Bal- thazar, the other to guest-chambers; opposite to these was a saloon which was usually employed in the colder seasons of the year. The "stairway, terminating the passage, led below to servants' apartments, l~itehen, and store-rooms, and constituted, in particu- lar, the province over which Anita presided. Hither were the footsteps of Olivia directed; but when she reached the place where the passage divided-.-her own lamp being shaded-she caught a glimpse of a light streaming from beneath the door of her uncle's chamber. Up to this moment the house had been apparently wrapt m sileiice.; now she fancied she heard voices from this q cruel enem' made the v all,-who feared ?-tl ture vouch ities. An Was she times, me subdue her horror and itate, may 1 Olivia did from ende fully justify angle of~t stole forw ators. Th day, gave the outline wine-cup in such su than a wor ~except for pointed. while she g containing she usually and the ac and her s her heart, out, aloud firm, surv of the er what was though wi arter. ~ her un ry ties of ut he and e unnatui afed any 4 'what sh'c ot their v stating h( to the cre self-loathi earn their not suffe: Lvoring to ed by her e passage, rd to the rough a ( ittle heed of her tw ras before L~dued acc ~1 at inte' her own ut she cou ized, that. her drug7, * bestowed ion, and i ul flamed which ne~ through: yed silen ne. Afte~ spoken, I ii some r~ Vho could be the parties ~ Ie-the man who had abused blood the means by which t the malignant creature who al cross of races, to neither o )f her most blessed and com uld be the subject of their ictim ~-Were they not even w best to circumvent her ature whom she could not t ~ Perhaps she may hear secrets , and find a mean to es any doubts of propriety t fathom their secrets. Her situation. She set down and covered it with the hand loor of the chamber'which h revice-the joinery of thap to finish-she was enabled t ) enemies. They were both them. They were speaking ~nts, that she strove vainly vals. We have been more sake, need not regret that Id see; and it so happened t~ ~uita held up to Don Balth~izai in order to indicate to him t upon her victim. Olivia' b referred the rest. Oh! how 11 up as she beheld. Bitter wa rly drove the unuttered curs ier closely compressed lips. ly, and saw the phial restore a while, as she found it imi ter former resolve returned ~iuctance, she receded softly ~EE~ CONSPIRATORS. 91 Who but her his trust, and violate them she no less which had na- en~ating qual- discussion ?- then, as at all noceWce, and of but with rhat they med.. ~ape their arts. ) prevent her proceeding was er lamp at an kerchief; then id the conspir- ~egion, in that see a part of ~eated, and the earnestly, but o gather more ~rtunate; and,~ ~he was disap- ~at it was even the little phial he dose which held the p~dal er eyes flashed the feeling in e of her spirit But she grew to the bosom possible to hear to her; and, from the door, I I page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] VASCONSELOS. resumed her lamp, and proceeded by the little flight which con. ducted below, to the apartments in the re r, which were assigned especially to Anita. These were easily a cessible; Anita never sixspecting any visitor, and least of all the ne in question, during her absence. Here, the poor girl, after curiously surveying the region into which she had not before often penetrated, began her search after food. She reasonably suppo ed that any provisions which she should find in these precincts ould be found undrug. ged. There was a basket. of cakes, su as had never been brought to her; of these she gathered a small number, taking care so to select them as not to disturb the general appearance of the pile. She found some "cold baked meats," also-some fragments of a bird-pie, and other matters of the same sort, such as had not been displayed among the cates usually provided for her. Anita, it was apparent, was by no means regardless of her own appetites. She had a taste for nice things, and, like most persons. of inferior race, was in the possession of an enormous appetite. Olivia fed freely while storing her spoils away in a lit- tie basket which she had appropriated from a collection in the closet of the crone. With the basket in one hand and her little half-shaded lamp in the other, she prepared to effect her return to her own chaiiaber; but hardly had she emerged from the old woman's apartments, when she heard the shuffling of feet upon the stair-ifight, while a suppressed cough attested the approach of the very person upon whose domain she had been trespassing. Here was a dilemma. To say that she had any fears, in the event of discovery, would be absurd. The domain was hers. The food which she had seemed to pilfi~r was, in fact, the proceeds of her own estates. But the action would have betrayed her se- cret suspicions, which. it was her policy for the present to conceal, and would only prQmpt her enemies to resort to new schemes which it might not be possible for her to detect and overthrow. With thebitter feelings of her soul duly increased with the necessity whichshenowfeltof concealment under these circumstances, Olivia silently receded along the path she had come. Stillthe shuffling of the old woman's feet was heard, the cough hioreased in. frequency and force. that was to indeed, this the emerged indignant fc firmly to th4 and there lo She was I herself. Tb two spacious that the old place of bet mutation in habits of th a person in age, had ga possessions crowded wi man. The~ they were si a huge woo was absolut Olivia succ~ light which .cha~ber. pat~ ence an mo~ixent wi cape. The an~ patience wit~i her th zar and her ity when al she munche Finally, sh4 fastened th4 formances, T E HIDING PLACE. There wa but one course for the unh~ [iide herse f in the very chamber of tli were p055 ble. Fortunately, her stren~ cy. Her mind 'became clearer under clings ga e her resolution, and she* tabooed egion, as quickly as she migi ked abou her for a place of refug~e. .ot long i resolving upon a spot in wh e chamber was one of ample dimensio~ s closets. But Olivia was prudently woman ight look into these; she cas ter promi e: Anita had the negro fa high de ce. To those who know an .s race of people, it will readily be cox such a sit ation as that which she enjoy ;hered ab ut her an infinite treasure of the w ites. Her room~ was accor h old clot es as the warehouse of a * hung ab ut the walls; they lay upo: tspendcd pon lines~crossing the room o ten horse, occupying a large portion c Ay masse with them. Behind this co' eded in s rounding herself a few secon the wither d crone carried began to g [lere, sca ce breathing, she crouched, I resoluti n which she could command en the ha should sleep, in order to at interval as sufficiently tedious, and I ~. Anita had many things to do, and ~ remnant of the flask of wine of whici ,elf had b en drinking. She had yet t )ne. She id so, and drank with a rare ci of a bis uit, and then she adjusted h opened nd looked int~o certain boxes, ~m again, efore she seated herself. In bhe poor in behind the clothes-hors 93 ppy girl, and e etiemy; if, ;th rose with Uhe pressure; toppedd back .t with safety, ~ch to shroud is, and it had apprehensive about for a ~ulty of accu- ything of the lectured that ~d, and of her )f the cast-off Lingly as well ndon clothes- i the chairs; bliqucly; and f one corner, lenient bulk Is before the limmer in the with all the ,awaiting the tempt her es- rying~ to fear she brought iDon Baltihs- try its qual- gusto. Then r bed-clothes. and carefully all these per- ~was kept in ( I 1~ 1~ t) page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 94 VASCONSELOS. 1 continual apprehension. severall times t1~e old hag approached the place of her concealment. Once sh~ abs~Autely proceeded tQ take from it some of its articles of be~4urniture; to dispose of cloaks arid shawls, and rearrange th~ disordered drapery. Olivia, all the while, cowering and crouching like a guilty person, dreading to be discovered and haled into the light. But she es- caped; the crone receded to other parts ~f the room, having, it would seem, a variety of domestic care~, separate from those which concerned the young lady and the iI~on, her uncle. Mean- while, the damsel watched all her proceeding~ with no small in- terest. With careful finger, she made for herself an aperture be- tween the massed garments* upon the horse, through which she could behold all that took place within th~ chamber. And it was with momently increasing-interest that s e saw what numerous cares occupied the soul of that old wom n, momently hovering over the very verge of existence. How she had accumulated; with what method she examined and arra ged; with what caution she put away; with what heed she cou ted and reviewed her treasures, as if she was required to provi e for a thousand years. Olivia was confounded at the extent and s rt of possessions which the aged crone could show; the constant s oliations of a long life. There were chests and boxes, all of whi h she opened and ex- amined, lifting to the light, and surveying some- of the contents, with the same gratification, no doubt, whi h she felt when she had first pulled them from the no!Ae lord or Ia y whom she served, her master or their guests. Olivia beheld li tle trinkets there lifted up to sight, which she herself might laim. She recognized others, which had been the property of f iends. These were all conimonly associated with treasures of uite another character. Among the possessions of Anita there was uite an armory. There were hauberk, and helm, and lance-head, and dagger, an silver spur, and brass, and gorget,. and coat-of- ail, and escanpi of cot- ton, and bright targe of polished steel. But we forbear he cat- alogue. Enough that this acquisitiveness~ of Anita had een for sixty years without restraint, exercised i4 a variety of si nations, and of large opportunities, and that she~ ~ad been as suce ssful in concealin~ thus acqu velvets, ti cinnamon in consick chests sh of Don B Olivia i proved so as wearing crone beg~ but for a interest ti Anita, aftc bosom th( uncle. ~r of the - da: phial lay chained h4 her, and i rushing fc wildest ph tion of he upon the] Neanw] she address hers was simply o1 miserable to her suff penance, ~ Kneeling 1 his mercy once, acro: only raise ANITA'S COUCHER.. as she w s avid in securing her spoil. [red, inclu ed fruits and spices, silks fany and awn, jellies and syrops, tinci fresh fro Sanarcand and md. She Ii rable sto e, and into the slit of a bo: dropped a newly-gotten castellano, p ilthazar t at very night. Low began to grow weary of her watch, instructive . Her anxieties and appreh ass, pro sed, however, soon to be in to disr e herself for the night. Th single cir instance, would have been the spe tatsr. But, one of the first r stripping off her outer garments, ~vas t little phi 1 which Olivia had seen her us she pla ed upon the table, where it I nsel, and held it with a singular fasci her fate! TI&at~ was the potent spell ~r senses, til - but the thought al~ was with difficulty that she restrain( rth, and ving utterance to her wild rensies of speech and action. With a willonl~,didsheforbear; andstill )hial she continuedd in her place of wat iile, Anita~ had assumed her night-dre sed herself' to her prayers. She, too, c aot the prayer of agony, and a tern] eyed a habit, which but too common] wretch into a false security. But her de ciently satisfactory. They were couple whether self-imposed or otherwise we n~ before a little image of the dying Chrisi then crawled on her hands and knees ;s the room to her couch, which stooc I herself that she might make her wa 95 Her treasures nd satins, rare with rose and d money, too, in one of her obably the gift which had yet nsions, as well relieved. The s performance, totally without necessities of take from her exhibit to her stoned the eye nation. In that which had so nost maddened *d herself from passion in the strenuous exer- ~eepng her eye h in quiet. ~s. This done, crnld pray; but de strife. She y deceives the votions~seemed with a sort of ed n~t inquire. she entreated without rising opposite, and ~ into the bed. page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 98 . VASCONSELOS. THE DREAM. 97 No doubt her conscience was quite satisfied with the Deity wi made her toils no weightier. The soul of Olivi~ was in great agitation. Fettered in a strained position, anxiously dreading and expecting discovery, cited by what she had seen, and moved by 4 purpose which' had not yet declared to herself, and which was still working her thought, she was yet compelled to ~emain quiet the old woman slept. Now, age does not seep easily, or soundly: and it was a long time still, before Olivia coul sure of~ the proof which taught her that Aa~ta could no lo hear and see. At length, persuaded that she might venture with safety, she did so. The light in the apartment guided movements. She approached the bed, and surveyed the sle with curiosity. The.~withered features, though composed calm of sleep, still seemed to wear, in the eyc~s of the damsel expression of that malignant hatred with which she felt that Anita had always regarded her. She, herself; looked the sleeper with features of indignant loathing. She turned a quickly. and proceeded to the table. The vague sugge which had been working in her mind had grown into a re tion.. She seized the phial, whose mysterious powers she lived herself to have felt, and without hesitation poured a lion of its contents into the wine-flask. There were still se draughts of the liquor in it; she knew the old woman's app for the juices of the grape, and pleased herself with the idea she would drink, and sleep ;-~--such ~ sleep as had been so imposed upon her own senses; and to such cruel results. In sleep of twenty~four hours-for such was the term which 0 assigned to the action of the potion-she, herself; would enj measure of liberty which had been long unknown. She then explore the household, and provide herself-so mod: was her calculation-such a sufficient supply of proper from the stores of the housekeeper, as would keep her, while, at least, free from the necessity of partaking of her dishes. Having executed her purpose, there was no lo ch on- ex- he in til ry be ger out her per the the ure on ay on lu- be- or- ral ~tite Ihat ften Ihat ivia a )uld rate )Od, )r a )sed ~r a motive to basket and door yieldE free; the uncle; and Here she j the cates she sought These put the image conscious up, she far smile she s held the 1132 the Virgin, sweetness. remain, at the risk of detection, and sei lamp, she disappeared in safety. Th( d, and was closed without noise; the p ight had disappeared. from beneath th Olivia regained her chamber without e proceeded to satisfy her hunger, in som )f which she possessed herself. For 1 a hiding-place, which she supposed to b away, the poor girl threw herself oncc )f the Virgin, in prayer. She could p f suffering, 1~ut not of guilt; and, cied that the picture smiled upon h Lept and dreamed pleasantly; and, in age of Philip de Vasconselos, occupying and looking down upon her with eve 5 ing upon her clasp of the ssage proved door of her barrassment. degree, upon he remainder unsuspected. more before ~y. She was ~she looked r. Upon this ier dream, be~ ~ the place of more loving 97 THE DREAM. page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] CHAPTER VIII. "Oh, detti!... Oh, sguardi!.. * A gran pena repiglie I sensi miei. Che mai diss 'egli? Avrebbe Forse ii mio amori'.. . Ma, no I Bacchiuso stammi Nel pin addentro del core."-Aunxiu.-Fiuppo. THUS dreaming, the sleep of Olivia de Alvaro was fortunal a protracted one. Nature, thus, asserts for herself some haj hours, even in a 'life which is one of unfailing sorrows. She si late. In the meantime, the girl J'uana had been se I time: her chamber. Her movements finally awakened the sleeper, ~ found that the day had considerably advanced. The morning past was already awaiting her. She arose, and her toilet was sister by the girl in waiting. This performed, Olivia dismiss her, preferring to take her breakfast alone. A portion of she hurriedly put from sight, to, be thrown away, or other disposed of, at a fitting opportunity. Meanwhile, she pacified appetite by a free use of the cates which she had appropriate from the 'stores of the old woman. A more buoyant feeling j failed in her bosom, the natural effect of the temporary secui which she felt. She had found a respit~-.--had gained time-.wh in the case of youth, is always felt to be a gain of importai At all events, she was for so many hours safe, so she thought, fr the dangers of that drugging influence which, for a long time,] been sapping her strength, and placing her completely at mer~y of those who had so terribly abused their advantages power. Juana reappeared, removed the breakfast things, proceeded to her household duties. Olivia, all this while, nothing of her uncle; and finally ascertained that he had left- dwelling at an early hour for the city. Her hope was, that was usually the case, she would see n.o more of him during 98 day. To relief to h ence of ai that towar seemingly selected, a pearls; ar tastefully amidst all mourning, of beauty~ still a chil terribly d tuning her with the ~ lect. She girlhood ~ crushed w son as i~f -~ ings such and flnall~ of sorrow py; how: when the: was fully own passi the afThcti desires, flu pleated hei els for co hope? -' devoted,- is true, a know; bi gin," s~he perish fox ~ly py ~pt in ho re- as- ed his ise ier ed re.. Lty ce. ad :he nd nd ~he as ~he A VISITOR EXPECTED. 99 Le free from his presence was now always a source of ~r. Whether she thought more favorably of the pres~. other we may conjecture only; but we may mention ds noon she proceeded to make her toilet anew, and with some regard to visitors. Her dress was carefully A as carefully adjusted. She wore a rich necklace of 4 a bandeau of pearls encircled her forehead, twined Lu with the dark tresses of her glossy hair. She was, her grief, as the Greek poet describes Electra in her who dipt only the "extremity of her locks," "heedful th~ same woman still 1" Alas, Olivia de Alvaro was I only,-scarcely more than seventeen. Grief and a pressing sense of shame, had done much towards ma.. passions. But she had enjoyed too little communion "orid to have done much towards ma ing her intel- felt 'shame and sorrow, but she felt ove also; and as still strong within her; and hope as not wholly Lthin her heart. Yet, even while she h ited her per- 4th an eye to charm, she was trouble with misgiv.. ~s, more than once, caused her to dro p and sadden, sink down upon her couch, and give w y to a full flood ~. What right had she to hope; what hope to be hap- resume to dream of the precious affections of another, ;e could be given with the presumption only 'that she deserving of them all! The very truthiUness of her n 'prompted this just consideration of what was due to )ns of another. But youth and girlhood, and her own tally triumphed. She rose amidst her tears. She corn- 'toilet. She arranged her tresses, and arrayed her jew.. quest. Why should she not love, and loving, why not Vas not her love sufficiently warm,---her soul sufficiently -to render Philip de Vasconselos happy? She ha~, it secret, which it would be fatal to her hope were he to it how should' he ever know ?-And, "0! Blessed Vir- sxclaimed, looking up at the benign mother, "am I to the 'cruel deeds, the guilty passions of another I" page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 It was not difficult, though the subject of a long, secret st gle in her own soul, to reconcile herself to a conviction ~w promised her the happiness which she desired. Her pa~ proved too strong for her conscientiousness, an~ her rea readily gave themselves, as they but too comm4ily do, to requisitions of the former. Her philosophy is probably tha thousands in like situations. The fond heart of woman is niuch dependent for its life on the affections, not to be e~ persuaded by an argument which sustains the cause of the la The love which Olivia felt for Philip de Vasconselos was precious to her soul to yield in such a struggle; and the re was, that she determined, though with shuddering and tremb] should he offer her his hand, to subdue her fears, her sens justice, all scruples of whatever sort, and accept the bles which her heart craved as its very breath of life. What c her uncle do'? What could he dare? The word from his that would blast her, would seal his own ruin and disgrace ever! She Would be true to Philip, as true as woman ever ; was to man ;-he would protect her from all abuse and outi -would rescue her from the hostile power from which she most reason to fear both; and in the pure devotion of the fut might she not hope to repair the misfortunes of the past in wi she could conscientiously affirm, that, however much she inL have been the victim of the guilty, she had never been within the participatory in his crime? Soothed, if not wholly satisfied, assured in some degree, by solacing sort of argument through which her mind had past, 01 proceeded to the latticed verandah, and from thence descent into the shrubbery. Aid the innocent flower! ah! the un' scious bloom, iind the unsuspected blossom! How they appea to her.! and whispered-such whispers as made her turn av from them with averted head, while upon her pale cheek tl~ might have been seen a flush as deep and vivid as a warm set in a humid sky. She returned to the verandah, closing lattices, letting down its curtains, and shutting out the shari glances of' the day. Then she threw herself upoii the settee 'ug. iich don ons the of too illy ter. too ~ult ng, of ing iild ips or- ~et ige iad ire, ich ~ht ~ly ~he via Led ay ~re ilL- [ts er of 0 6~4 A VISZTOB. 101 wicker-wc~rk and cane, and covered her sad eyes with her hands in a sorrowful meditation. Leaving her thus abstracted for awhile, 14 us proceed to other parties. That n~orning, Philip de Vasconselos had eaten his humble meal alo~e, and in silence. Andres was~ absent ~ whither he knew not, and the younger brother was of a temper, and just now in su~h a m od, that it was only a safe policy ~in the elder, not to seem to curious in any of his affairs. Philip, though naturally and inanely troubled about the fate of Andres, sympathizing w th him very sincerely in his disappointments, was yet t0o human to be deeply grieved by the one misfortune -over al1---whi h his brother felt, in the denial of his mistress. It would not, in eed, have been quite in nature, not to have felt his own h~pes r vive pleasurably at the knowledge. He was conscious of a exulting feeling in his bosom; accordingly; which, knowing ~ts source, he labored, though unsuccessfully, to school an4 to re uke. But this labor did not prevent him from making hi~ toilet that morning with extreme care, and resolving to visit th~ fair Olivia. In this purpose he was seconded by the counsels o~' the ~ay gallant Nuno de Tobar, who suddenly broke in upon hi~n, and finding him alone, gave free vent t~ his encour- agements. Somehow, he too had heard of the defeat of Andres, and he urged it as one of the sigus in favor of his friend. But Philip shook hi head gravely. He valued the Lady Olivia too highly to i'ancy that she would be easy of attairrment. His pas- sion ~was too ea nest, not to prompt him to a very severe ques- tioning of his wn merits, and to this effect was his reply to Tobar. But th latter loudly denounced his excessive modesty, and urged a th usand proofs, each conclusive to his own audacious spirit, for the encouragement of his friend. In the end, they proceeded together to the dwelling of the lady. In the meanwhile, her uncle had suddenly made his appear- ance, bringing with him another visitor. This was a gaily dress- ed cavalier, suff~ciently comely of person, and smooth of face,, to be satisfied w~th himself; but who possessed few distinguish.. ing traits by wl1dch to compel attention or r~spect. Still, if page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 VASOONSELOg. Olivia was to wed with any body, this was the person whom uncle was most pleased to tolerate. He may have had sp reasons for this preference. Such, at least, was the belie Olivia, to whom Don Balthazar had more than once spoke the subject. He himself frequently afforded to the young lant the means of being with his niece in private. Don Au tin de Sinolar was one of the passable gentlemen that go to n up what is called good society. He came of respectable fan enjoyed respectable possessions, obeyed the usual laws of fasi and never trespassed upon th& proprieties of the~ circle. He confident of speech, and was always in possession of the IL intelligence which could please the persons present by diE aging the absent. He was no less devotedly the lover of 0 than ,were the brothers Yasconselos-that is, so far as conce: the externals of devotion. But the essentials of an earnest sion, of any sort, were not within the nature of De Sin He' was of marriageable years and person, and an establish was necessary to his position, a wife was necessary to hiE establishment, and he required rank as a first condition in the sel he should espouse. Other requisites were wholly subordb The ordinary secret of this ordinary gentleman, who, even ii workings of his passions, obeys rigidly a conventional arr~ ment, was that which made his policy ; and to do the agreeab his mistress, as a carpet knight, was the extent of his perf ance in the effort to secure fav~~r. Had Olivia been of a temper, De Sinolar would have proved a formidable nw either of the Portuguese brothers. The small graces of soc the tea-table heroics, were in the possession of neither. P de Vasconselos was particularly deficient in such arts. He of a grave, calm, reserved nature, too earnestly in by meditate his conquests by any ordinary means. He~ could show, as he did without his own consciousness, perhaps, how cious in his eyes was the object of his passion. The womo 1&eart soon distinguishes between two such suitors, and if she d mines in favor of either, does not hesitate long in declanin~ him whose earnestness is congenial with her own. It is the wo: her eial of on gal. gus- ake ily, ion, was test par- ivia ned pas- lar. tent Os- am- ate.. the ige. .e to rm- like to ety, illip was to )nly pre- r4of ~ter- for ian, whose ch~ shaping c is cool en companion The tw and eager election of preaching afforded I upon the colors. afford his was cast annoyed pose yet 1 assurance to peril hi however, grateful t looking al glimpse c That mor when she upon her the Virgi Florida h ed a clue his satins said he; you in th( declared some say besot N your pur yes! 'and expe wheth again ow on pose. ye shall shortly hear of your departure, Senor," ret, by the way, I know not if I rightly include lition. They say, SeiTior, that you have not yet ~r you accompany Don Hernan or not; and that you have half resolved not to go. Can it ~ should think that there could be no doubt about Else why should you come from Portugal, to A NEW RIVAL. 108 xacter has been too feeble to withstand the coei~cive f fashion merely, who is usually caught by him who )Ugh iways to make himself agreeable simply as a 1. ~ frie s found De Sinolar in possession ~f tXie ground, ly dis laying to the eyes of the languid Oliyia a col- silks nd shawls, which~ he had purchased for the ap.. tourn y. The entrance of Don Philip and Dc Tobar )e Sin~lar an opportunity of dilating to a larger audience exce lence of his tastes in the choice of silks and )e To ar lent him a ready attention, the better to friend the desired opportunities with Olivia. Her eye down, but brightened, at his approach. He was not ut the presence of the others, since it was not his pur- o approach the subject of his passion. The encouraging of hi~ friend had failed as yet to prompt him so soon s hop~ upon the question. He seated himself near her, and spoke to her in those subdued tones which are so ) the e~rs of lovers; his deep, grave, almost sad glance, I the ~hile, as it were, down into her heart. She caught a ~ this look, but suffered herself only a moment's gaze. tent ~as enough to remind her of her dreams by night, had s~en the same sweet, sad, soliciting glances gazing from ~he place which was occupied by the picture of ~. T~e approaching. departure of the expedition for ecame~ tLaturally the subject of conversation, and afford- to De Sinolar, which prompted him to leave for awhile page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 1Q4 VA~SOONSELOS. the new Indies, if it were not to better fortune by con among the savages ?" "Unless," answered Tobar, with a laugh, "he might b fortune by a conquest among the saints ;"-and he looked chievously a1~ Olivia as he spoke. De Sinolar was for a moment at fault. "Among the saints !-I don't see. Oh! yes! among ladies! Saints and angels! yes! well, that were certainly dangerous warfare, and one that I much prefer myself. If is the game of Don Philip, he is wiser, I am free to confess, most soldiers of my knowing. They have, methinks, pre small value of ladies' favors ; and show but little wisdom cordingly. I beg you ten thousand pardons, Sei~or Don P] but I am bold to say I have regarded you as too much of warrior to give heed to beauty-too fond of the tilt and s~ to hold in overmuch estimation the darts from lady's eyes, the wounds they give ;-wounds, I say it from my soul's experi4 such as no army surgeon can be found to heal I" Here he smote his bosom afThctedly, and looked to OIL but her eyes were upon the floor. Even the sigh of the gal which followed his speech, was lost upon her heedless se~ They were all alive, however, the next moment, as the tones of Vasconselos answered De Sinolar. "You do me wrong, Don Augustin, and you do the char~ of the noble warrior wrong, if you assume either me, or hin be insensible to the charms of lover the claims* of bea Perhaps, it is the valiant man only, who is always prepare~ sacrifice himself where he hates, who feels love to be a sufTh powerto commanclself-sacrifice, if needle, ~also. But I trow ~ can be no occasion for me now to defend the tenderness and ness of the warrior's heart, which hath been sufficiently insta1 in all stages of the world, and is a thing usually acknowle~ among-all classes of men. And for the soldier's regard for be~ what need have we to look beyond a present instance'? what is this tournament provided, for which you are prepa uest ~tter niis- the less that bhan ious ac- ilip, the ear, and nce, via; ant, ses. Leep eter ~, to ity. * to lent ~ere loft- ced ged ity, E~'or 'ing IRRROTTTTON. I (~ these brilli2nt co1~rs and silks, but that the valor of the soldier I 4 may make grateful appeal to the smiles of love and beauty 'i" He pause. Oliyia, looking down the.while, said in low tones-~ "But, Sei~ior, yoYt have not yet answered to the doubts of Don Augustin, tc~uching your departure with the expedition." "Ah! tr$ie," q~1Qth De Sinolar-" They say that there are doubts, yet Was it my thought that Don Hernan had shown you the better argue t." "* They say righ ly, Sefiorita," replied Vasconselos to Olivia, and scarcely notice g Do Sinolar-" who say that I have yet de- termined nothing. I am truly but half resolved to depart, yet fully half incline to remain. There be private reasons for this uncertainty. whether Don Hernan will succeed in per- suading me-and ~t is one of my doubts if he desires ~so to do -will greatly rest upon the force of other and opposite persua- sions than those o war. Perhaps, it were only wise with me, to yield blindly to Don ilernan's arguments, and look nothing farther." It was the tone ith which this last sentence was spoken, and the look which accompanied, which held the meaning more sig- nificantly than the ~vords themselves. The sweet, sad resigna- tion in both went 4irect to the heart of Olivia. But she cast her eyes upon the ~Ioor and remained silent. But De Sinolar, who was conscious of nothing but the words spoken, and who was no adept in looking below the surface of any thing, proceeded in his usual manner. "Well, Seflor, it will be needful that you should decide short- ly. In a few days ~we shall have the tournament, and inafew more, the caravels ~ivill be all ready to receive the armament. Then will you embark the horses and artillery. These the first. Then will the foot soldiers go on board, and at the last the knights and gentlemen. They are baking famous quantities of bread, even now, a~ Roja's, and la Granja's. The adelantado is eager to be at worl~ among the heather savages, stripping the gold from the altar~ and the treasure fro the rich cities of the Apalachian. Ah! ~ady Olivia, when th se things are going on, 1AK page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 VASCONSELOS. we shall be as ~luil and quiet here as if we had never either dance or music. "These gay knights will all be on the path of con uest. For my part, I say let them conquer! I have no passion quest, and I have no faith in its fruits. I believe them t delusions. One man gets off with a sound head an a full but a hundred pays. for him with deadly wounds, broken and beggary forever! If one could, be sure that he sh the one, and not one of the hundred, why, it we e plea adventure; but where there's but one white bea to a s black ones, I'm not the man to draw, if I can hel it." "Bug the fame, Seffor-the glory'?" said Olrvi "' Fame and glory! . They will neither plai ter m~ mend my limbs, -nor find me .in rations. My rep rtirnien answers all my ambition. It lacks but a mistress to be empire I demand, and she, with the blessing of th Virgir some day to find willing to my hands." And here he looked with a sudden tenderness awards "And have you never felt the eager desire for ~attle, ~ quoth Tobar :-" That joyous desire for the strif~ of swc the crash of lances, which makes the head thro1c~ with d and the heart bound as if it had wings of its own~ and w~ to soar to heavem-that feeling which the adelantado hat ly described, from some old heathen Greek or oman, rapture of the ~ "No! indeed! no such raptures for me. An other r4ture in preference! Let it be eating, or dr-in ing, or or loving-I ~care not how vulgar or how simple the h the ecick-pit-nay, the siesta,-any t~iing but th shouts struggle of combatants. The tournament is enou h for in tried that. I'll try it no more. When I want t break I have only to sally out into the mountains aft r som runaways. I use a. blunt spear on such occasions. Then, valiantly enough. Then, I overthrow and make captive. kill unless I can't help myself; since it is more profit pleasant to beat my Indians than to bury them.' known Well! or con- be all )OCkCt limbs, Lild be ant to :ore of head, ~, here, all the I hope Olivia. eflor'?" i'ds and lirium, s about happi.. as 'the sort of dancing , ill-ring, and the ~. I've ~. lance, ~of my [charge I don't )le and A ri11jjv~uruiuAJ~ 1WJ'. lUt "Your huma~iity is commendable, Sefior," was the somewhat cold response of Vasconselos, who, indeed, had scarcely heeded what the other ~ad been saying; and now turned from him with a contempt which was sufficiently apparent. But the other was by no means discomfited by an expression which he clearly beheld. He replied very~ promptly and very indifferently, as if' his social position-his w~alth-put him quite beyond reproach. "Ah! you scarcely mean that, I know, Sei~or Don Philip: but it matters nothing. I don't care who knows that I am re- solved to live while I can, and risk no bones upon reputation. If heads are to be cloven, let them take the. hardest: if brains are to be scattered, it needs only that you choose such a&can waste little: if hard blows are to be struck, get those men only for the work who have been trained to the boucan. If you love fighting, Don P~iilip, it is well for you: not for me. I love it not. You have tried your hand at it, and it suits you. You have fought against the Moors. You have already had a taste of Floridian fig~iting, and I have seen you carry yourself; even sportively, against Bartolomeo de Gallegos, and Sei~or, Nuno, here, and I am f~ee to confess that you are the last person whom I should entreat to a supper of blades and lances. I am only at conflict with gentle woman," smiling sweetly on Olivia ;-" and leave the pagan to such brave knights as yourself. By the way, Senior Don Philip, they tell me you served with Francis Pizarro in Peru! I ha forgotten that." "It mattered ot," answered Vasconselos coldly. "Now there is a man for you, that Francis Pizarro. He's the rough cust mer for a weak stomach. He's what I call a hero! Talk of Oortez, indeed! How should Hernan Cortez be a hero'? I'v seen him a hundred times when he was nothing but a farmer, a~ had a hacienda not half the value of' my own. lie was lucky, ~efior-very lucky. I remember him well. I was but a boy when he worked his farm and drove his mule, like any other ~easant,-.--though they make him now a born nobleman; and how could he have got these great honors, were it not for the blind fortune that puts one man on the horse while 4 T T T T Y T M'' A page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 ~ VA8CO1'~SELOS. his betters hold the stirrups? No! no! If ther be a great man of these days and countries, it is of a certain noble Marquis Pizarro" Nuno de Tobar could scarcely restrain his an impat while the fopliug continued to discourse thus freely of the masters in the art~of war, whom in that day it wa the fa' to commend as above all Greek and Roman fame, a d he sh responded to the flippancies of IDe Sinolar in resp ct to Vasconselos, on the contrary, gave him little heed, and se not to think it necessary to gainsay his opinions. He wa tent that he should "rabble on;" ~as it afforded him an op nity to murmur a quiet remark, in under tones, to is fair panion, whose responses, brief and tim~d, were always deli in like subdued accents. It was only when his st~ck of talk was entirely exhausted that Don Augustin was contel take his departure. This he did, when, at the clo~e of a ramblir~g speech, he had emptied his budget of ac~mulat~ what he said being only a repetition of what he ha Jheard. did not seem to apprehend any danger from leaving the 11e~ his rival; persuading himself that Vasconselos, hough enough where lances were splintered, possessed too fe'~ sources of the courtier to make much progress where the gain ended on the ease of the dialogue and the liveliness f the hu His departure was a relief to all the parties. N o de ~I soon after rose, and upon some plea of flowers, pas ed frop apartment into the garden. The lovers were alone together wild thrill shot through the soul of Olivia at the c nsciou Her cheek flushed-~-her frame trembled with emoti n. B knew that she was watched~-that the eyes of ID n Balt were upon her from some quarter-that love had n secure that House of Fear. Vasconselos was free, of c rse, o such apprehensions. He knew that Don Balthaz~ir ad' en the house with IDe ~Sinolar, but, as he had seen no hing o after, he prespxqed that lie had quitted. it, or was el where~ played. He ilrew higher to where s~e sate, "The departure c~f this' expedition, which threaten so mul ruly the ence eat hion rply rtez. med con- rtu- om- ered mall t to long ons; He to ood re- de- or. obar the A ess. she azar y in all ered him em- h to TENDER MOMENTS. 109 lessen the of the ladies of Cuba, will give but little concern, I fancy, to you, Sei~orita." "And wherefore not, Sefior?" "You take little delight, I fear, in such exercises as challenge the best regarc~s of knighthood. I have seen you at very few of the gentle passages between the knights." "True; but I am not insensible. I have heard full reports of their performances, and found delight in the accounts of such grace and valor, and courtesy and skill, as has been rarely seen." "Yet would I have beheld you, Seiiorita, among the gay beau- ties of this island court, who have stimulated courtesy by their grace, and pro~npted achievement to great things by their ap.. proving smiles. I have looked for you, Sefiorita, very often, and,-.---may I say it,-hav"e sometimes left the field, as, seeing you not, it has seemed to me to lack its best attraction." "Ah! Seflor, it is the wont of Cavaliers to use this sort of speech to foolish damsels. And why should you leave a field, where there have been so many beauties to cheer, and so many sweet voices to encourage ?" "Yet was there one, of all,-one only, lady, whom I most desired to behold." "AhI and why should the Seilor Philip be insensible to the praises which have daily hailed his passages on every hand? Who has wontheapplauses and the prizes at the several tourneys? Whose lance path been most honored in the conflict ?-whose name been most sounded ?-in whose fame have the multitude raised most frequently the shout of acclamation ?" " Alas! lady, all these tributes are of little value in the ears of Philip de Vasconselos, compared with the sweeter assurances thatmight fall from the lipsof one, the loveliestvirgin of all Cuba 1" The eyes of Vasconselos were fastened tenderly, as he spoke, upon those of Olivia. Hers sunk, bashfully, beneath his glance; and a warm re~1 flush quickly overspread her cheeks. Her hand lay beside him updn the sofa, which she partly occupied. His fingers fell hesitatingly upon it; and it was not withdrawn. She was S 11 I page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] 110 YASCONSELOS. silent-the beatings of her heart were audible, an~i1 his b4 rose also and sunk, in impetuous responses, to the citedd tions which seemed to prevail in hers, He con1~inued, eagerly, and more tenderly. "It may be that mine is the sin of presumption, l~dy; b a truth it were a somewhat pardonable sin, since it~ hope ~7 ~avor at the shrine of as chaste and holya passion~ ~The hand was instantly withdrawn, and so hastily, as ~lehtly to surprise the leader. He looked inquir4gly int4 race, and, as he did so, her cheeks paled so suddenly~ and to ~n ashen white, that Vasconselos feared she was ab~ut to ~3ut she recovered herself with great effort, yet ot so pletely as to prevent a sudden sobbing, like that 6 an infa it~ sleep, from escaping into sound. "You are ill, Seilorita; or am I so unhappy as to have of ~d you?" ~ "You have not offended me, Seflor Philip,-oh! no! 'was t12 ly~ tremulously and hastily spoken-" a momentary pain oi He paused, ~waiting on her with a gentle and swe t solicit hat allowed no change in her face to escape his yes. I ~unk beneath his survey, and her cheeks were ag in suiT with blushes. This seemed a grateful omen to t e knigi Portugal. He resumed his pleading-his hand gain r~ ~g pon her own; and hers was unwithdrawn, in spite of the le pressure which detained it. She looked down ards a ".1 trust, dear Sefforita, I have not spoken too ras ly. B leaded. k Indd you must ear ii. hat I were dumb forever than now to offend. But, indeed~ must suffer me to spea. ee, h Al ~rou but knew,. Seiiorita, how pure is the tribute of affe which I now offer to your charms! Too well I kno the c1 and holy homage which a virgin heart requires-' The hand was suddenly withdrawn. An hysteric 1 laug] ~aped fronii~the lips of the damsel, as she replied-.-.. "Ah! Seffor, you are all too serious. You sadd me in som ~mo- aore t of of evi- her such tint. ~om- Ltln end- ~ re- ly." ude lers ised t of 4ed ~en- he tter you if bion ~ste es- ~~h. THE MYSTERY. 111 In faith, you do; and I must sing to you a merry song ere I grow gloomy as the night. You shall hear a cheerful ditty, such as will make you laugh, and make us forget-forget-be very forgetful." She would have risen, and motioned to the guitar lying upon a table; but he held her firmly by the hand. He was bewildered by her cond~itct, but grew more and. more firm as he coritempla.. ted her. Tie had s&en too much of the world, and of human nature, not to perceive that there was some mystery in the pro.. feeding. How else should he account for the feverish hurry of her manner, at such a moment, so utterly unlike her conduct, during all other periods ?-how, for that sobbing sigh, that con- vulsive shuiider, and those forceckhusky accents while delivering words ostensibly meant to be playful and sportive? Vasconselos was now no~ to be deceived. He saw that~ the gaiety was all assumed on~y ;-yet wherefore? He was more ready to believe that there w~s agony, rather than merriment, in her spirit at that moment. ~I'hen why should she seek to sport with emotions, so sacred, in his bosom, when she had always before shown him a respect approaching to reverence? Vasconselos felt instinctively that the damsel sought under the guise of levity only to conceal the activity ~nd presence of deep and painful emotions. He felt and sa'~ all this; but it was not the moment, nor was his the mood, hav g advanced thus far, to be diverted from his object. He still kept his grasp upon her hand. He looked steadily into her eyes. They answered his gaze wildly. She trembled all over. He ~poke. "Olivi~lady-I cannot n~w be baffled-I must speak, and you must answer me. It is too~great a matter, to rAe-too vital to my soul's life, to suffer me to be silent longer, or to ieave you ' without having an answer. Yet you must not suspect me of unkindness. I see that you suffer. I am not deceived by this show of merriment. I feel that there is a secret sorrow which you vainly struggle to conceal-'--" "No! no! no secret-I-O! Seflor, release me-let me go !" And she burst into a passion of tears, and 1~uried her face in her hands upon the arm of the settee. Vasconselos bent over, 9 I page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] A NEW CATAsTROPHE. 11 112 VASCONSEI4OS. e1asped one of her hands in his own, and was about to pass a m about her waist, when a sudden footstep was he~ rd in room. In- the same moment Don Balthazar spoke, -ut a -d gle word,-but it sounded in the ears of Olivia* like the vo of the Angel Monkir calling up the dead. " Olivia !" *She started to her feet-looked wildly in the face of Vasce selos,-who had withdrawn ~a pace, and was .observingv Don B thazar-and then tottered towards her uncle. Philip darted f~ ward to help her, when she recovered herself; bowed lightly her lover, and followed her uncle from the room. Scgrcely li sL e got into the passage when Don Balthazar said to her quiclf - and she now observed that his face was very pale " When did you see Anita last ?" "Not since last night. Why ?" " She is dead !" " Dead !" " Ay, dead ! of old age, I suppose. Died in a fit !~ But to her. You will find her in her room. Meanwhile, I will cuse you to these gentlemen." He disappeared.. Qlivia was frozen to the spot, and speed less. Her conscious soul was full of nameless terrors. S~ too readily, divined the cause of the old woman's death, a~ th:ugh no purpose of crime wa~s in her mind when shie mix with the contents of the wine-flask the potion from the phial, si shuddered with such a horror as might well become the guilt the murderess. When Don Balthazar returned from speakih with Vasconselos and his friend, he found~ Olivia where he h~ left her, rather the -statue of a frozen woman than a livin breaathing sufferer. He was startled by her evident incapacit and putting his arms about her, was about to convey her to h~ chamber; but the touch of his fingers recalled her energies. 'SI revolted from the contact with as great a shuddering a~ she fd en first apprised of Anita's death. 'Touch me not!" she exclaimed solemnly-" I will ~o alone 3he did go, but not to the sight of the dead wox a. Sli n n 4 tc 1y e felt that she ec uld not endure that spectacle. She hurried to her own chamber, and when there,:threw herself half fainting upon the couch. TI e new catastrophe, in which she had so much par- ticipated, added to' the gloomy horrors which had already taken such full posser sion of her soul. ] 110 page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] CHAPTER IX. "Mark me well: I boldly tell thee that I bear a soul, Prepared for either fortune. If thy hand Be stronger, use thy power." GA~[5MKO~ DoN BALTHAZAR found no difficulty in sending o the tw'J ors. After the departure of Olivia, they had but little 11 to remain. Her uncle was not much a favorite wi h them was known to be a hard and selfish man, who was believe~ rightly, to.have no sympathies with either. Still, e Was of the court, and could put on, when he pleased, t e mann a prei.~x c1~eva1ier. He was now exceedingly cour eous ani diiatory, and apologized warmly for the unavoidab e witlid of Jii~ niece, and for those cares, of his own, whic denie( the pleasure of giving them further entertainme t. H~ them, without scruple, the cause of the present co fusion household; and made quite a pretty story of it. "His venerable housekeeper, who had been al ost a to Olivia, watching and tending her youth with m re than tal solicitude, was suddenly found dead in her sea. Wei morning, to all appearance, at noon she had passed to judg and this without alarming the family. Olivia w s, of c terribly shocked by the event. She had retired console her chamber. She was so tenderly attached to A ita, and so tenderly attached to her! Her affection was very gr great indeed ;-so great, that he, Don Balthazar d Alvar exceedingly anxious for her health ;-and so forth" "A good morning to you, Sefiores." "An old hag !" exclaimed Nuno de Tobar to is comj as soon as they had got fairly beyond the premi es,- 4 114 I Ii to I n4 01 bi A isit- tive He and on- wal him old his her ren- that nt; rse, e to nita was so, action np of 11.P the ugliest and most fiendish-looking human vultures you ever beheld. As for tier attachment to Olivia, or Olivia's to her, I don't believe a word of it. I never saw any proofs of it myself; and have heard mar~y things which lead me to think there could be no attachment between them. In fact, Leonora tells me that Anita was no wore than a spy upon the poor girl, whose steps were watched a carefully as if every bush concealed a lover, and behind evei~y tree stood an armed n-ian ready to snatch her up and make off with her. Be sure, Don Balthazar has no de- sire that she should pass from any keeping but his own. He enjoys too mucil good picking from the estates of Olivia to give her up without a struggle. There is a strange story about a silver mine whi~h he has somehow wholly appropriated to him- self.; and by all accounts, he may well dread the day of reckon- ing with the ma~ who shall become her husband. For this re - son he keeps he~ immured as much as possible; and ftis certa that no gentlem~tn can obtain access to his dwelling without fin -. ing himself watched. You must continue, Philip, your visi s when the uncle is knoWn to be busy elsewhere. There is som thing gained, I ~am thinking, by the death of this old woma It is a special p~o~idence in your behalf. See that you ma e use of it." The calculations of Nuno de Tobar, in respect to the adva - tages gained in favor of the larger liberty of Olivia by the dea h of Anita, were somewhat those of Olivia herself; for, in spi e of the shock which she had received by that event, and the n t.. ural horrors which were taught her by her own secret conscious - ness of the cause of it, she could not avoid reflecting upon t e probable increase of her own securities in consequence. Th~y were both deceived. That very night, the place of Anita wt~s filled by another old woman, another creature of Don Balthaza~', not so ugly, perhaps, or so old as her predecessor, but equally hard fiwored and unscrupulous. Sylvia was a mestizo a14, brought from one Qf the haciendas of the estate, a few miles~n the country. Olivia had seen and known her before. The sigl4 of this woman, in her new situation, left her little hope of pro~~ I ANITA'S SUCCESSOR. page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] 116 VASOO~SELOS. by the death of Anita6 Sylvia was as subtle as t~te form r~ and no less the willing tool of her employer. She ha4 all th fierce malignity of mood characteristic of the hybrid race t'~ hich she belonged,-a people usually of fierce passiorts, sudd n im- pulses, capricious impulse, and tenacious, of the s~nse of ong and injury to the latest moment of existence. I~on Ba lazar knew his creatures well, and satisfied of ~his fact, ~Olivia, the moment, resigned herself to despair agah~i. But she found an unexpected ally, where she l~ast loo e~l for one, in the person of the young serving girl, Ju4ia. s girl was the grand-daughter of Anita. The event whi~h put a ~ther in the place of her grandmother, had also its injurious c&nse- quences to herself: She naturally regarded l~erself s the heiress of her kinswoman; and knowing how large and various had been the accumulations of the latter, her expectation were correspondingly large. To her consternation, th~ succe or to the place of Anita at once usurped possession of all her tores. Juana was driven out from the precincts altogether, an com- pelled to confine herself to the little chamber whicii she h d long occupied, adjoining that of Olivia. Sylvia had assumed he en- tire control of the household, and her u~urpations, in a few h urs, were such as to satisfy Juana that her expectations fr the savings of her grandmother were all cut off. She was ld in no more favor than her mistress, and soon found herself nder an authority which was disposed to submit to no ques o ing. Sylvia had her own children and grand-children to prov' for. Juana was dreadfully indignant. She did not dare to a oach Don Balthazar with her griefs; but she condescended to nfide to Olivia. In her passion she revealed to her all the se ts of their mutual prison-house, all at least that she knew, an thus, in a measure, confirmed the unhappy girl in the conviction hich she had already been compelled to feel that she was the v etim of a thousand cruel arts. Juana swore to have her re e ges, and better to secure sympathy, she promised 6livia t a she should have redress also. What were her plans of ye ance she did not declare; but when questioned in respect t her OLIVIA'S ALLY. 117 means and opportunities, contented herself with a knowing loo and 'a sagacious shaking of the head. She was naturally a st~ pid wench, but possessed that sort of animal cunning which is so frequently found in connection with a base and feeble intellect. For the present nothing could be extracted from her, and th business of the household went on without disorder, and wit no apparent interruption; But, as we shall see in the seque, Juana was busy after a fashion of her own. But the day, thus distinguished by the startling events whic we have recorded, was not at an end. Olivia sat alone in th verandah. The evening meal had been set before her by Juan but had been carried out untasted. She had no appetite jus then for mortal food. Her soul wa~ still agitated to its depths as the sea that heaves up tumultuously with all its waves, thoug the winds which have swept it with fearful strife, have wholl passed and gone. She lay reclined upon the settee of wicker work where we 'beheld her during her morning interview wit Vasconselos. There was no light in the apartment; none, fact, was necessary, while the moon glinting through groves .o orange and. anana, sufficed for the desires of the sad and contempt tive spirit. The gay gleams flitted over the floor of the veran dah, and glided, stealthily and faintly, to the interior of th apartment, otherwise dimly shaded by the massive foliage whic curtained the opening in front. Here, saddening under th sad sweetness of the scene, Olivia brooded,-.absorbed in ru- minating the events and the prospects of a life, which, at its very budding, seemed already shrouded with a blight. 'Her heart' sunk within her as she~ thought; all was dark in the future; all gloomy, grievous, and reproachful in the past. At length she wept, and found a momentary relief in her tears. The big drops forced their way through her fingers,-.tears of a bitterness which proved superior to all the sweets promised by an affection which was only too precious tc~ her hopes. "He loves me !"' was her exclamation. "lie loves me-.he---.- the only man for whom this l~eart has ever felt a passion. I cannot mistake his silent admiration. I cannot doubt the broken k page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] 118 VASOONSELOS. meaning,-the imperfect sentiment-in these hesitating and oh! were it but that I could bear his gla~ices wil dreadful and humiliating secret in my heart, how ~eavenl~ such a love. But how to enjoy his affections, ~~et beti confidence! How, unworthy as I am, t~ receive~ his emi -How place my head-how bury my face in th~ bosom faith I have deceived! Impossible! no, Philip ~e Vasc' -precious as I hold thee to my heart, I must depy mys~ more than I deny thee. Thou wilt come, but it must denial only. I deny thee for thy better fortune. Thou hence; go upon the path of conquest; and ainbi ion will take the place of love! Though I die to own th e, yet I will be thine." She had spoken audibly this soliloquy. It ade its other ears, though her own were scarcely conscio s of its From the dense masses of shade at the foot o the ye came a voice in answer: "A. wise resolution, Olivia,-a very wise resol tion! thou wilt hardly be prepared to keep. 'The morning bring thee fresh hopes and fancies; the evening will br thy lover ~ith the moonlight; and thou wilt fo get the if it were writtenn in water 1', At the first. sound of the speaker's voice, Oh ia half from the settee on which she reclined. But, as she re the accents of Don Balthazar, she schooled her ipood to ence; drawing a long deep breath, and looking a mixed s hatred, which, could her features have Lieen sees at the: would have embodied a truthful poinfrait of hose of i4out to take her ffigli~\ for Athens, in her chari~t dyed gre of her kindred. \Intense and bitter was the mc feeling of indignation which darkened her chee with td subside, in the next instant, into a more than mortal The uncle advanced from $he thicket and ascen ed to ti dah. He approached her, flung his cap upon a table, ac himself at her side. She recoiled from him, treatingn opposite end of the settee. V .1 ~rds; this were y his aces! those ~elo~, even )C for ilt go ghtly ever ay to port. ndah, ~t one n will g thee ~ow as ;tarted guided Aiffer- in and oment, ~AIedea, ith the ientainyj ~, onlyj LleneSs~ veran~ seate~ to th4 .1 TI~E FOES. 1] "So hostile still !" said h~. "Well! It is Perhaps reasonable enough, though it comports little with thy resolution. If th~ wilt shake off the knights of Portugal, there is no need to sei me with them. Nay, for the very reason that they depai should I be suffered to remain. Let me say, Olivia, that I r joice in thy resolution. It is wise-it is prudent. It would nev do for thee to wed with Philip de Vasconselos." "And wherefore not ?" "Ah! there are sufficient reasons." "None which concern thee, at least. If I have so resolved, is for a reason of mine own, the force of which it is little likel that thou shouldst feel." "Be it so! It is enough that thou hast resolved. I care n to know the motive for a decision which is yet grateful to m mind. Thou hast resolved! and yet I somewhat wonder at thee Olivia.,~ "Thou know'st me not." "~ou wilt scarce keep to thy resolution." "Thou know'st me not." "Ha! did I not see thee when he was urging thee, as still th~ passionate lover knows how to urge his suit? Did 1 not see the tremble, even though thou recoiledst from his supplications? Dic I not see the yielding weak~iess in thy lip and eye-.hear it in thc tremors of thy voice-know it in what I know of the passion foi him which stirs in all thy1 soul? ~ou wouldst have yielded, at one mornent.-..-.nay at another !-.--I am curious, Olivia. Where~ fore, at certain moments; when his hand had taken thine into close keeping, and when thy whole heart was melting to his persuasive Words.......wherefore, then, didst thou break away, and speak of thy guitar, and of idle minstrelsy ~" "Said I not,-thou know'st me not ?" "But wherefore?" Thou didst' not give heed to the words he uttered." "Nay, but I did. They were words of passion and devotion, '~'such as well befit such an occasion. They were well chosen words of love, I trow; and they were passing sweet, I am cer- .9 le U d t t I page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 VAGO~SIiLO8. tai; in thy ears. Why just then didst thou recoil ~om hit as from an adder thou hadet startled in thy path,+ Ii pUeations,-changing the course of his thought, anfi of th~ and seeking to divert him from his purpose, only that he hear 'how deftly thou eouldst finger thy guitar ?" "And think'st thou I had such motive ?" "What else ?" "I tell thee again, thou know'st me not! He rd'st t words which he poured into mine 2" "What words 'I I noted that he was warming to thee doubtful purpose. Didst Thou mistake him 'P' "No! I knew-I felt his purpose; and had is wor otherwise chosen, I had probably been base enough to lis weak enough to yield! Ah! uncle! hadst thou not hardened thy soul against all that is noble, the w~rds wh Philip employed had smitten upon thy~senses equally wi and thou hadst felt a shudder and a cold shame pass ov such as made me, perforce, refuse to listen to 1~he dev that love which I could not help but feel." "What words are these They spoke for his love on "More! more! There were words in his speech whi as poisoned arrows to my heart." "flow! what?" "For my-...- but iio! no! why should I repeat to the I wilt not feel as I do-thou eanst not! Enough, that 1 s i avoid the professions which I dared not trust myself to I would have him abandon his purpose, and seek me Let him find one who, though she. may love bin~ less pr will be more deserving of his afl'ections. It is because Is love him, that I will deny his prayer. I dare not dishon which is so precious to my own." The uncle, rose from his seat, and stood intently gazi ~ moment, in silence, upon the excite& features of the da ~ had exhibited to his mind a virtue Eeyond his understand appr~3ached and laid Ids hand upon her shoulder.' Sh from his touch. even sup- * own, ight o the thno s been ~n, and utterly ~ Donj ~ mine, thee, on of r were Thou ye to nswer. more.~ undly,1 mucl&[ a hearty ,for a~ il. Sh~ 'ecoile~ WOMAN '~ FAILING. 1 1 "Verily, Olivia, thou art but a very simple child." "Child! Oh! would to Heaven I were! but I am not. Th n hast forced upon me too dreary an experience of age-of t y age-to be a child-of thy sex, to be properly sensible of mi e. Thou hast crushed me with a deadly weight of knowledge! T y tutorship has taken from me all the sWeet ignorance ~of childho d. Alas! I know too much for childhood as well as peace! neit er shall I ever know again !" "Fit! I tell thee, Don Balthazar de Alvaro, that, though t u "Thy fit is again coming on thee, Olivia 1" hast the power to destroy me, and every hope whic is mine I will not suffer thee to mock me with thy taunts! it! Veri y, if it were foaming madness, it were in reason, in proper acco d ance with my wrongs and sorrows. Should I not be madden d! Should I not rave from the house-top of such wrongs as mi~,ht move the heavens and the earth to shudder ?" "And wherefore rave? Thou seest how idle! I can well cLn- ceive how much thou feel'st the loss of such a knight as Ph~lip de Vasconselos-for, of a truth, a more noble cavalier the Isle of Cuba-." "No more! no more treads ~ot It seemed the humor of Don Balthazar to chafe the sore in her soul, and he continued: "Well, what say'st thou to Augustin de Sinolar ?" "Why didst thou bring him hither to-day? He made suit~ to thee before. Said I not then, that I scorn this man De Sinolar ~'~' "So !-thou rejectest De Sinolar because thou scorn'st him, ~nd Vasconselos because thou lowest him? This, my Olivia, is ~ut child's play. Let r~e show thee thy folly. Thou hast a secFet. It is my secret as well as thine, but I have every confidence that thou wilt keep it faithfully. Now, to have a secret, such as ~she never likes to reveal, is just the failing of every woman since the days of Eve. Just such a secret as thine, troubles every dan~isel fair as thou art !" "Impossible !" "True, my child! True! But should it make her misery le? 6 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 VASCONSELQ$. She has eaten certain fruits which are forbidden, but she ha: enough to wipe her mouth after eating, and who is the Now, this act of wiping the mouth is very simple. Sha then .deny thyself the privilege of eating again when it j thee? Shalt thou deny thyself; because of a past error pleases thee so to call it-to partake of even more precious which thou dost really desire? Wherefore? What wis it? No! no! I love thee, Olivia, and will teach thee policy. I have resolved for thee and if thou ever wed's shalt ~wed with De Sinolar." "Name not that thing, De Sinolar, to me." "True, he is a thing, that is certain ;-~and so far acceptable rather prefer him on that account." "That thou may'st the better use him! For that thoui make a dog of him without endowing him with a dog's cou "Perhaps! perhaps !" "But I shall never wed. So forbear this cruel talk, I pray "I cannot trust thy resolution, Olivia. J~ fear that when de Vasconselos next approaches thee with the words of soli thou wilt answer him with the words of consent." "No! no! no!" " Yet, verily, thou loves that man!" "I deny it not! It is my boast, when spoken t6 thy eai were my pride, were I other than I am, to make declaration 4 love abroad to all mankind. I love him as man never was before; and it is, as I have said to thee alre~idy, it is even bec so much love, that I will not mai'ry him. I will not do hir grievous wrong! Oh! uncle, thou hast destroyed my hoj happiness forever. Thou hast abused the trust of my dE ther-.thou the shepherd, that hast thyself been the wolf 1 stroy the lamb." A paroxysm of tears followed this speech. The uncle s contemptuously. He knew that the more violent passion usually weakened in the access of tears. She looked sudden *and caught the expression; and a passionate pride rose up' ~otil to her relief. ;ense iser? thou ~ases -Wit 'uits, m in etter thou I4. I i y'st ge." ee." hilip ting, It my )ved ise I ~uch and de- iled was ~ up her 122 TUE WOLF AT BAY. ~23 "Thou mock'st, I see! Now, I say to thee, ]~on Balthaz~rde Alvaro! thou hadstb~tter stay thy tortures. Thou know'st me not, or the fires which prey upon my soul like those of a vo]Aano. Better thou shouldst, without weapon or preparation, arous~ the she-wolf in the cavern with her young, than vex me farther ~vith thy taunts. Beware! I have been weak, and thou hast taken me at 'vantage. But if I am weak, I am blind no longer; and if not strong to bear, I am, at least, tempered to resist and to resent. The very passions thou hast goaded into existence will be my avengers in the end. I counsel thee give heed to what I say. Be- ware! I am capable of things even more evil than thou think'st for, and there is a limit beyond which it were well for thee not to go. Once more I warn thee. I have had such bitter thoughts and feelings towards thee, that didst thou press me much further, I feel as if I could slay thee with a dagger, even as I would strike the serpent that crept to my bosom while I slept." She had risen while she spoke, and stood before him, wild and passionate, with flashing dark eye, and white arm waving. lie surveyed her with a stern and frowning brow, but somewhat coldly-his lips compressed, as if with a feeling of pride and power,.-and his eye looking into hers with the bright fixedhess which that of the serpent is said to show when fascinating the bird from the tree. I1'here was a pause; the parties still regar ing each other. She, standing, looking on him with a raised spirit, and wild, fiery glance; he, sitting, returning the gaze steadfastly - coolly if not calmly, and apparently reserving himself for the proper moment. At length, he spoke, very deliberately, a~ if measuring every syllable. "I think I do know thee, Olivia de Alvaro, and something know of what thou art capable in thy passion. Have I no, of late, likened thee to thy Biscayan mother? and her I knew t~ior- oughly. Let me convince thee that I do not estimate too l~um- bly thy powers of evil. Sit down once more while I question thee." There was something so calm and quiet in the authority of his voice and words, that, from habit merely, the damsel submitted page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 VASCONSELOS. A WARNING. 125 and resumed her seat. Steadily looking into her face, h needed to speak again, as deliberately as before. "Didst thou know, Olivia, that the poor old woman, was poisoned'? She died from no old age, but from a liquor which she was made to drink." The listener grew white as death. Her knees shook b her. Her tongue was frozen. "Ay, Olivia, some loving hand drenched her posset witi bountiful allowance! Dost thou know this kerchief Oliv~ He showed it. It was her own. She was silent. "This kerchief did I find where the person was conceal drugged the old woman's draught." He paused, as if awaiting the answer. But none was s "Thou hast nothing to say. Well! It is enough. speak is sufficiently to answer at such a moment . But say to thee farther, my child, it is known to me that thou 1 wast the last in the ~chamber of Anita last night! Should think, now, that I am ignorant of what thou art capable? thy hand, Olivia de Alvaro, that drugged the old w draught with death." "And if it were, Don Baithazar de Alvaro," exclaimed rising, and resuming all her strength and courage, as she the air and listened to the tone of superiority which he e: ed-" and if it were my hand, then were my hand righi played in punishing one who has been a murderess to me had my hand served thee with the same fatal drug, then also justified in the sight of man and heaven. Go to, Seiic shalt not alarm or confound me. I am prepared, when t] so pleased, to listen to thee as thou reporters all thy story world. I fear thee not-I know not now that I fear anyt life. Thou hast brought me to this desperation. Yet kno when I mixed the drug with the draught of Anita, I kne'~ as a deadly poison. I knew it ~nly, and believed it t' more than a stupefying drug, suc~i as wrap the senses in natural and temporary slumber. As thou knowest so n is not unlikely that thou knowest, also, that I beheld tb a ( pro- nita, adly eath too who ken. otto t me self thou was an's livia, eheld ploy- em- And ere I thou u art o the ng in that it not e no un- ch, it and Anita in secret conference in regard to my fate, on the night when that drug was mixed with h~r wine? I saw her, ay, and thee, as the fatal phial was held between ye to the light, and ye resolved together that my potion was to be increased. Wt~s it unreasonable if I thought the goodly medicine which ye designed for me, in your charity, it was but fitting that ye also should partake? I wished to commend ye also to such blessed visions and dreams, as ye nightly and daily prepared for me. I would have ye too enjoy that insensible response, which ye i:lecreed be- tween ye should lighten my cares, and keep me from the fee ing of my cruel wrongs; and had it been possible, Don Balthazar, that I could have mingled the drug with thy own wine-cup, this hand should fearlessly have done it ;-not, I affirm, as meaning that it should be fatal to thy life, but as forcing you to such t~ial of those sufferings of mine which have never yet compelled your pity and forbearance! Now, that you know of what I am c4a- ble, I again bid ye beware! You know th% terms between us. I loathe you, and I fear you; yet so little do I fear the worl4 of man, that, were it not for one who lives among ye, I should cbm- mission ydu freely to declare aloud all that you have made me and all that Jam! Nay, the time may come, when, heedles~ of the shame which shall follow from this speech, I myself shah go out into the highways of the city, and speak aloud the truth self!" D~n Balthazar was silenced. For the moment, he had no refug~e. He rose and left the verandah, and passed into the (rvUi-~TchQ around it; while Olivia, thoroughly exhausted, but no longer tremulous or fearful, rose with a firm frame and spirit, and moved quietly to her chamber. 124 A WARNING. page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] CHAPTER~ x. "07/mi). The time is troublesome: we'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy Does yet depend.'~ PHILIP DR VASCONSELOS did not, as was anticipated by Donji thazar, and warmly counselled by Nuno d~ Tobar, return in~n diately to the attempt upon the affections of Olivia de Al~~ It would have been quite enough to preclude his visit for thaV and the next, at least, that there had been a death in the fairli an event, however, to which his more reckless friend attached sort of importance. ~But/ there was another reason for dela~ hesitation: Philip had i/o such confidence in his own posij3i no such faith in his own powers, no such conviction of the fatv able regards of the lads, as was asserted by Nuno. lie wa~, the contrary, troubled $vith many misgivings, which grew ml faculty the more he examined. The very fact that he really ~ earnestly loved, made him tremble at. the thought of precipitt~t his fate; and the true lover is almost always prepared to di. humbly of his own claims, in view of that supposed perfection.wh he recognizes in the lady of his love. Besides, with the natu delicacy of a proud and' honorable mind, conscious 'of his o poverty, he felt the awkwardness of a suit to one who was in possession of' great riches. He felt how easy it was to susp the motives of such a suitor, and dreaded lest such a suspic~ should taint the mind of the lady herself. Not that he was c posed to forego his suit because of this; or any other consid~ tion. On the contrary, he was resolved to bring it to the tri and know the worst as soon as he could think it proper to do But all his conclusions counselled him to delay. Nor must allow it to be supposed that he was without his encouragement 128 cal. ne- ro. lay Ly; no ~nd or- on hf- nd ng nk [ch ral he ~ct on .15- ra- al, ~o. ~s. LOVER'S HOPES. 1~7 He persuaded himself that there was much in what had taken place between himself and Olivia in that last interview, to shpw that she was very far from insensible to his pretensions. Ii~ is true that there were things in her carriage-some curious caprices of mood and manner, which he found it not easy altogether to comprehend. But there was still enough to pleasee a lov- er; and to persuade one, even less bold and ardent than 2ur hero, to continue a pursuit in which he had certainly suffered no repulse. She had evaded his application, but she had showi~ia peculiar sensibility at his approach. She had trifled somewhat when he was seriously earnest, but what was the meaning of her tremors when her fair white hand lingered within his grasp? and had she not encouraged his return ?-and had she not declared an interest in his presence in Cuba, in language too impressive to be,. wholly without that desirable signification which the lover seeks? Vasconselos was very far from being discouraged-nay, without heeding the confident assurance of Nuno de Tobar, he felt a new hope springing within his bosom at every moment of increased reflection; and, ere the day was well over, he had resolved to bring his doubts to an issue, at least, before the departure of the expedition. It was his farther resolution, if successful in his suit, to abandon the adventure with De Soto. For that matter, he had partly determined thus, whatever might be the result of~is courtship. This conclusion was reached that very night, and the next morning, when he was visited by Tobar, he unhesitat- ingly declared it, to the great consternation of that young gallant. The latter enabled him to do so, without effort, by rallying him on the score of his amour. "Where were you last night, 'Philip? You' promised to be with us, and broke faith. Truth to say, we had the merriest night of it in the tent of Juan de Anasco. Better flasks of Xe~es' were never opened to Don Ferdinand. All cried aloud against you, and cursed your drowsy courtship, which seems to be noto- rious throughout the Island. Now, my good fellow, if you must be in love, there is no good reason why you should' be out of the ii page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 YAS~IONSELOS. world. Every body asks for you-they all look for you mv You are lost to all good fellowship." A' You are likely to lose me still more completely than do now, Nuno. Some day you will fail to see me altogether mean, indeed, to separate myself wholly from such a band vicious profligates, who have no faith in anything more lo~ than ~ pearl oyster, and yield their hearts to nothing less per~ sive than a gold mine. What should I do with such people; who still believe in lQve and beauty, and have a heart still o to the pleadings of a womail? That I do love is sufficient re~ why I should leave such companions. From this day I am gc to quit you all. I propose ev~n to forego the expedition to F ida. It needs me not;' and there are good reasons wherefore should abandon it." "Now the blessed saints foref'end, that~ you should speak E ously this resolution, my friend. Why, Philip de Vasconse this is mere madness. What reasons can you have'? That love and would marry, and may marry Olivia de Alvaro, is sufficient cause, I trow, since the one stands not in the way of' other, if there be any settled purpose in your mind to go." "Aye, but there is none." "How! I thought your going with the expedition was quil ~ett1ed matter. I know that the Adelantado counts confided ~pon your going, and holds it of large importance to the interest~ ~he e4edition that you should go: for you are the only person ~ll the party who knows the tongue of the Floridian, and thej ~ages to his country." "I did, in some degree, prepare and consent to depart '~ the Adelantado, but if he counts upon my going and values performance, he hath taken but a strange course for showing the estimate he hath of my services." "Truth, he hath neglected you somewhat." * "But this availeth little, and I have no regrets and no c plaints. Let it suffice for you, Nuno, that, for the time, the r sion for warlike adventure hath gone utterly out of my heart. PHILIP'S DECISION. ~in. ~ou of ely ua- -I ~en son ing Lor- el en- [os, rou not the ea .tly of of las- ith fly me as.. I 129 look with discomfort at all warlike panoply-I turn away from lance and sword with feeling of discomfort, and my shield glares at me with unpleasant brIghtness from the wall. Love hath sub- dued me to simpler and sweeter desires. I dream now of long floating hair and dewy eyes, and a sweet song and sweeter sigh in the shade of lemon groves in the star-light." "Shame on thee, Vasconselos, that thow-~shouldst make s~rch confession! I will report thee for a haggard through the ar y. I too have had my passions and my loves, as thou knowest, and I could, on occasion, play me a merry turn of sadness upon the guitar beneath my lady's lattice, even now; but that she should wean me from my love of shield and spear, were impossible! I must not believe thee.~~ "Thou shalt! thou wilt! I am the very thing that I tell thee and care nothing for all the gold and treasure of the Floridia~n." " It will greatly anger the adelantado when he hears of thy decision." "Nay, I think he is somewhat prepared for it. He hath treated me with neglect from the beginning, in all substantial things, and he now shows me a cold courtesy, which argues hos- tility. This, of itself; were enough to move me to abandon his banner. _ But thou also knowe~t how much are 'we Portuguese the dislike of thy common soldiers. My brother, Andres, ~ho leads a troop of our people, and a goodly one, hath a certain measu~~e of independence. But I, who am only a single ho~se and lance, I have no power, and lacking power, have no security. A I could only go as a simple volunteer, the aid to a superior who hath shown me aversion. Seest thou not how little motive is there left me for this adventure'? Even the pag~ who heil~ed me buckle on my armor is withdrawn from me, since he waits also on my brother, and is his paid follower; and this reminds Nuno, that I am seeking to buy me a well-made lilackarnoor ;- a boy who shall bring me water, unlace my helmet, and put on my spurs; a meek and docile urchin, who shall be quick as i~ill- ing, and whom, by kindness, I can make faithful. Wilt thou make it known abroad that the Portuguese knight, Philip de Vas.. 6* 1'8 page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 VASCONSELOS. consoles, is willing ~to pay a goodly sum in Castellanos for Moorish urchin ?" "It shall be done, Philip; but thou chafest me. I cannot thee from this expedition." "It may be that the Lady Olivia will reject my hand. If i 50 "Nay, I know her better. She will not reject thee. Leoi vows to me that her heart is full of thee only." "Hath she said this to thy wife ?" "No! not in words; but she hath shown it in a thousand stances. My wife is a laugher, but she hath an eye. She ~ and I, too, see, Philip, and we have no doubts. It is your 4 modesty alone that seeks for them, and builds them up liii tower! I can tell you what the answer of the lady will be, upon this you may count with certainty. But you swill scar wed on the instant, even when she accepts thee. Some t will pass, and why not yield this to a campaign in Flori How much bet1~er to bring home a dowry for your bride, in gold' Apalachian? Nay, hath she pearl and of the not a n~ hacienda, one of the finest in all the island, at Matelos, w needs nothing but an adequate supply of slaves, to make i empire~? A single season in Apalachia will give thee any n her." "Nay, let her consent to my love, Nuno, and there shal no delay. We shall instantly wed. I like not these long ~ between promise and performance. They make the heart and the soul weary. Unless there be good reason, there shal nc~ delay. She shall be mine as soon after she hath said consenting word as the time will suffer for the coming of priest and the preparation of the aljar." "And IDon Balthazar! thickest thou he is the person t~ si thee so easily to take possession? I look for trouble from quarter." "Trouble! I tell thee, Nuno, there is so~nething in the as of that man which so offends my nature, that it will go hard me if I do not take him by the beard on the first occasion A. CIIANGJ& OF YI1~W. his ose be ora in- ees, Wa oa and ely da? the ble *ch an be aps ick be the the ifer hat ect ith I 131 have somehow, among men, an infallible instinct for knowing an enemy, even as most men h~ve the instinct for knowing when there~ is venom in reptile and insect. My soul seems to li~ my heel, as I behold him, with the feeling that I ought to crush" "Yet beware! He is one who hath power and policy. He hath cour e, too, and is known for a man of prowess in arms. You kno that the adelantado hath made him Captain-General of the Fl et." "Ha! hen he departs with the expedition? I had thought this doub ful." "The appointment hath secured him, and some thousands of Castellan s besides, drawn, I suspect, from the estates of the fair Olivia." "Well, let him depart. It is even more important, if he goes, that I should remain. Let Olivia but yield me her favor, and I car not who departs. Nothing then should persuade me to this wi d enterprise.,~ "Ah! philip, thou didst not hold it so wild ere thou sawest the fair niece of Don Balthazar." "I was but a wild person in that day myself." "And why shouldst thou now deem it so wild an enterprise? Thou wert a companion with Cabeza de Va~a, and shared his spoils, and held with him the opinion that the mountains of Apa- lachia coAtained treasures of gold and silver even greater than those of em and Tenochtitlan." "And think not otherwise now. But to me such treasures have gro n valueless in comparison with others yet more pre- cious. ou shalt enjoy my share of them, Nuno. May they make the rich and leave thee happy. But, for my happiness, I need n t now to go on shipboard. I need not carry lance again am ng the savages. My ears shall not prick at the sum- mons of t e trumpet, and I shall soon learn to forget in the quiet shadows f my fig4ree, that I ever had communion with wild and profligate youth like thyself." "Now m I half persuaded to implore the Saints that they move aga st thee, and forbid this damsel to give hearing to thy I:- page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 182 VASCONSELOS. prayer. Thy passion for her bids fair to break the head from o e of the best lances of ~Jastile! What shall we do without thee in Florida-thou who know'st all about the country, and hast s~ch sufficient knowledge of the infernal dialect of these savages of lachia? When this resolution of thine shall reach the ears of ~he Adelantado, he will surely madden. He will carry thee, perfor4~e, Philip." "Be thine the tongue, Nuno, to make him the report, that t~ie first overflow of his anger will fall upon other heads than min~x" "Upon mine, thou meanest? Yet thou scarcely deserves tl~is friendship from the comrade whom thou abandon'st at the trance of the field! But thou wilt decide otherwise, I trust; a~d prove thyself true to thy vocation, if not to the sex. He w~io keeps faith with his comrade, need not concern himself in regard to pledges made to woman." "Out upon thee for a heretic! But that I know thee to speak commonly a philosophy such as thou canst invent, and not su~h as thou believes, I should lift lance against thee, though I nex~er strove in tilt or combat again! But get thee hence, and leave me ~to my meditations. Thou, meanwhile, may'st employ thyself and amuse the island, by telling aloud this purpose of mine to ab~n- don the expedition." "But thou wilt take part in the tournament?" "Ay, as a point of honor it is needful. We Portuguese have been too much held in disesteem by your proud Spaniards, an~l I am resolved to lower some of the haughty crests, which have abused the courtesy of knighthood. It wilibe, perchance, a soler~in service, closing my career in chivalry. I will then dedicate my spear to the Gods of the Harvest-and set up an altar to peale, where hitherto I have bowed only to that of war "A Dio8 !" exclaimed the young knight at parting. "I go sadly, Philip, to make evil report of thee to all gpod companions !" "A Dios 1', replied the Portuguese-" I wish thee no worse evil than that, in time, thou shalt come to be full believer in thy own report." Nuno de Tobar needed no exhortations on the part of Philip de Vascons abandon th all that he i so to .cause knew wouk view his con evils which] and it was shown to th4 and confirm too late, he I re~~olved fre Adelantado. honorable a Philip de V still accomp abandon his did not the no less beau Portuguese tion than eit In these 'v ion of' Don of the avow de Tobar ha sire was to 4 disseminatic another visil needed by a nicative and the wind, all persons whe "'Tisasli ful of success~ confident: Ii PLANS. 138 los, to spread abroad the news of his resoiutioh to expedition. lie was naturally given to talk freely new. But, in publishing the matter, he aimed really the expression of regret among the people, whi~h he be very general, as to move the Adelantado to re- 1u~t towards the Portuguese knights, and to repair ihe iad followed his neglect. It was the notion of Nuno, probablyy not without justice, that a little more favor ~se adventurers would have secured their attachments, A them in their desire for the adventure. It was not fancied , to win Philip tack to the enterprise, and he ~ly to declare himself; to this effect, to the ears of ~he The command of a score or two of lances, and an pointrnent, would, he persuaded himself; so influence ~sconselos, that, even if he married Olivia, he would my or follow the expedition. Was he not about to own wife, who was both young and beautiful; and ~delantado himself do likewise, in respect to a wonian Aful than noble? He could see no reason why ~he should exhibit a more feminine tenderness and affec- tier. iews and this policy he seconded the desires and opin- Balthazar de Alvaro. This person soon got tidii~gs ed determination of the knight of Portugal. N~no d given large currency to the report in a couple of I~hilip, who was not withouLbis policy, and whose ~irculate his decision, set other agents to work in its n. Scarcely had Nuno de Tobar disappeared when or had sought his lodgings, and he was shortly suc.. Lhird. To all of these our knight was equally commu~. the news was soon dispersed, as upon the wings of over the city. Don Baithazar was one of the fii~st m it reached. bared !'~ he muttered to himself. "This knight is hope.. He is not willing to forego his chances. He grows e will come again. He will propose. I cannot hide .1 page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 VASCONSELO$. her from him. I cannot deny him entrance. I dare not hurry her off to the mountains. He must see her. Well ! .she has resolved, in her refinement of virtue, not to accept him-not to marry him or an~ other. She loves him too weU, she says, to dishonor him. Very good! very satisfactory, could she keep her word-were she firm in her resolution. But, is it possible? Can I trust her ~ Is any woman to be trusted.where her heart is full of the one ob- ject, where the passions are young and vigorous, a~d where the opportunities are free? She will tremble and hesitate, and be coy-recede, yet loiter,-listen, and finally, forgetting everything except the passion which she feels, she will fall into his 'arms, and he will drink the moist, warm consent from her burning lips. So it has been ever-so it will be ever-to the end of the history. I have studied the sex in vain if it be not so !-and how to prevent all this, for it must be prevented! The Adelantado must persuade this knight to continue with the expedition. He must win him. He hath the charm to do this, when he is persuaded to use it; and he must use it ~iow. He must make him a captain of twenties-nat, hundreds-but he must bear him~off; and meanwhile, it must be for me to encourage him with a promise of Olivia on his return from the expedition. To gain time is now the thing essential. The rest may be left to the thousand casualties of such an adven- ture as that on which we depart. But should~ these arts fail! should the persuasions of the Adelantado come too late-should the pride of this knight of Portugal reject~ our overtures with scorn, as percht~nce he may-~should my promise of Olivia, on his return, not satis y him-as, in faith, her encouragement liath been sufficient to m ke it unsatisfactory-what remains? Verily, hut one remedy! e must try the sharp necessity' of the dag-. ger. There will be opportunities enough, I trow. itkust either be my hand, or tha of one whose so~il and weapon I may buy against any bosom Cuba !" " f. Iha~ and '~iy state Here ~he comes~ WE hav~ thazer de spoken idl~ tion and hi~ ever it shal For the pr terview wit already in] Philip de N "Is this do, who, p: shQwing in quieted hhr "It is n through sev self assured the expedite Don Philip "And companion "Nay I" spirit of hh an unreason surely too x descent fror sink the spi CHAPTER XI. re then sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valor; tiat way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find it in my heart to repent. I pray you make us friends. I will pursue the amity." AWs WELL TEIAT ENDS WELL. ~ heard the cold and cruel determination of Don Bal- varo. We may be assured that it has not been or with a mere braggart spirit, and that his resolu- will correspond too well, to make him pause, when- 1 seem necessary to tarry out his purposes in action. sent, his conclusions led him at once to seek an in-' h the adelantado. As he expected, he found De Soto possession of the rumor touching the withdrawal of asconselos from the expedition. eport true, Don Balthazar?" demanded the adelanta- oud as he was, and self-confident, could not help is tone and manner that the affair seriously dis- t improbable, your excellence: the report comes eral persons who have his ear. Niino de Tobar him- me that his present mood inclined him to forego on, but he thought that, with proper efforts made, might be persuaded to review his decision." I to stoop to solicit this Portuguese knight to be my my arms ~" was the imperious demand of De Soto. interposed, gently but earnestly, the more sedate wife, the lady Isabella-" nay, my Lord, this is able spirit which possesses thee. Don Balthazar is uch thy friend to counsel thee to any dishonor, or thy high dignity. He means not that thou shouldst it of the noble and the knight, to conciliate am ex 136 page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 186 VASCONSELO~. acting spirit, or win the countenance of the unworthy. He but counsels, as' I have striven to do, that in the case of these brave knights of Portugal, wl~om none hold to be less than honorable in very high degree, thou shouldst assume a different beating from that which is but too common for our Spaninrds to show. to these gentlemen. Verily, I say ~ayse1f) they have been quite too much slighted in this adventure, the more especially when we remember the c~aimsof Don Philip, not merely as a brave warrior, and polished gentleman, but on account of the special qualities which he possesses from a former sojourn with the Floridian of Apala9hia. And where is the shame and the dis- credit to thee of seeking and soliciting this 5ble and his brother? Dost thou not solicit many,-many who are far less worthy? What is all thy to~l' here, the parade which we daily make, the court which we hold, the feasts we give, the pageants and tour- xieys we exhibit, but the fruit of a solicitude which seeks men, and money and hoi~ses,-and all that is denied needful to the success and glory of thy enterprise? Of a truth, my Lord, I see, as I have long seen, that there is no true wisdomTh looking coldly on these brave spirits, who, I doubt not, will be most happy of thy favor, and most hearty in thy cause." The Adelantado trode the floor with hasty strides while his wife was speaking. Whe~i she had done, he spoke. "I see not what ye would have. I gave these knights all the countenance that was possible. They were entreated to our pres- ence; they were dealt honorably with when they came. I could not strip command from other of my followers, born Castilians, who brought with them their own retainers. I could not for my own dignity, abridge my o~yn command, that they should find the followers whom they did~ not bring. I dared not give them high places in the expedition, knowing well the jealousy of our people towards the foreigners. But, I trow, all this complaint of neglect had never been, Don Balthazar, had it not been for thy niece. It is the passion of this knight for the Lady Olivia, and, perchance, thy hostility to his object, which hath marred his purpose, and not any lack of my favor. He ha&..gone, as so DON BALTHAZAR'S TAOTIO~. 187 many do, an individual adventurer, a single lance and sword, but for his passion for thy niece; and thou, I wot, hath put lliy ban upon is affection." "I have put no ban upon his affections, your excellence, nor upon hers. He is free to come and go, and he ~ees my niece when he w~ll. I have not forbidden him; I do ?iot purpose~ to forbid. If he seeks her in marriage, and she affects him, I with- hold no co sent." "Thou ast changed in thy resolve since we last spoke of these parti s !" said Donna Isabella. "True, our Ladyship. I hearkened to your counsels, and re~. solved in c mpliance with them. But it is, perchance, for this very reaso that he hath declined the expedition. Had I barred his passage to the Lady Olivia, he had been less hopeful. I am free to say that I believe she hath large power over him." "And h over her," quoth the Lady Isabella, "or the Woman's eyes have ~n this greatly mistaken the usual signs of the woman's heart." "Well!' exclaimed Hernan de Soto, breaking in with ir~ipa.. tience, "w4~1, and what is to come of it? Will ~he sink into the~ drudge~upon a vineyard? Will he become fruit-pruner on the hacienda of the Lady Olivia de Alvaro, and prepare his monthly accounts, as steward and agent, for the examination of the severe efior Don Balthazar? Think'st thou to bring him to this? an it be that one of the bravest and best lances in Portugal- y~ and Spain-will be content with this petty employ in life wif e great deeds are done in Florida-he who, but a month ago, had an ambition for conquest, and a passion for enter- prise, equa to that of the most eager adventurer in Cuba? Then is kni hthood greatly altered in spirit in the last decade; and one as he reads may well wQnder if the deeds of Hernan de Cordova a e not in faith a pure fable,-a silly invention of the poet. Go to, Don Balthazar, you shall not persuade me to this." "I woul persuade you to nothing, you excellence, which you I page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] deem hurtful to your honor or your interests, oIf which you find displeasing to your moods. You hear what is .reported as comn- ing from Don Philip himself. I' believe the rumor, and think that he hath so expressed himself. It is for you to say whether the loss of this knight,-perchance his younger brother also,-be such loss as you can suffer without grievance." " Of a truth, not ! we want every man whom we can gkt, and every brave knight in. especial,-particularly one who brings with him such manifold resources as Philip de Vasconselos." " This being the case, your excellency, it may be we,11 to ask, in what way, without derogation from your high dignity, to per- suade him to the adventure. I have shown you wherefore I think he hath resolved to quit your banner ;-the neglect of favor ;-the jealousy of our Spaniards, and the passion which he hath for my niece." " When thou sawest these 'things, and that the hope of thy niece was that which made him hostile to the expedition, why then didst thou give encouragement to this puling passion for the damsel'?" -"Nay, my lord, thou art again unreasonable," interposed Donna Isabella. "If there be offence in that, the gdilt of it lies at thy door and mine. Don Balthazar, as thou wilt recall, de- clared himself in opposition to the suit of the knight of Portugal, giving, as reason for it, the very peril which we now fear, that he would abandon the expedition if successful with the lady. Was it not so, Don Balthazar ?" Don Balthazar bowed assent, and then proceeded in reply to De Soto. - "I gave no encouragement, your excellency, to .this passion. In truth, for many reasons I was greatly hostile to it. The calm, and, as seemed to me, as I trow it did to you, the insolent pride of this knight's bearing was rarely inconsistent with his poverty of position and resource, and I felt a pride of nation which re- volted to think that the large possessions of my niece should fall into the= clutch .of a beggarly and grasping stranger. I had 19; chosen another suitor for her-one Don Augustin de Sinolar, a worthy gentleman, and a handsome, whose estates lie adjoining those of my niece at the hacienda Matelos." " And didst thou really seek to match-thy niece with that thing of silk and straw, De Sinolar ? Fie upon thee, Don Balthazar-- fie upon thee, for designing a most unworthy sacrifice." .The face of Don Baithazar flushed to the temples, as he listened to the rebuke of the Lady Isabella, and felt the sharp indignant glance of her eye upon him. But he had his reply. ."He is rich, lady, and hath a good exterior. He hath the vanities of youth, perchance ; I deny it not ; but he hath few of the vices of youth. He hath meekness, and gentleness, and sim- plicity, and ' " Oh ! hush thee, Don Balthazar; as if the qualities of a chicken or a hare were sufficient to, satisfy the heart of a woman. Fie; upon thee." " Briefly," interposed De Soto, "she rejects your favorite De Sinolar, cnd must have your knight of Portugal." "ffy choice was not hers, and, though the Lady Isabella re- bukes me, I must say I am sorry for it. Olivia had been much happier, I trdw, with De Sinolar, than she ever could hope to be with Philip de Vasconselos." " And why not, I pray you ?" again .spoke the Lady Isabella, showing a fe mine tenacity on a subject which so naturally inter- ested the pride and temper of the sex. "Nay, it d es not matter to our present quest," said De Soto, " The question is, does she resolve to wed the Portuguese?" "She- prefers him, beyond all question, but that she will wed with him is still-as who can answer for-the caprices of the sex ?"--and this was said with a sly glance at the Lady Isabella-. "is still a very questionable matter." " Nay, if she prefers him, and he seeks her, there is an end of the doubt. . ou do not bar the progress, and none denies. She will wed with him, I see, and he is lost to the expedition--a loss greater than fty matchlocks !" I U I, 188 page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] 140 YASCONSELOS. De Soto strode the apartment with a vexation which he did not labor to conceal. Now, that the loss of the knight seemed to be certain, he was at no pains to conceal his conviction of his value. The truth is that, as Don Balthazar had indicated already, the pride in the bearing of Don Philip de Vasconselos, and the stately reserve which he maintained to the Castilian leaders, De Soto among them, had touched the self-esteem of the latter. Yet this conduct of the Portuguese was not properly a cause of wonder 6r complaint, when it was remembered with what open jealousy he was regarded by the Spaniards. Don Balthazar watched his superior with keen eyes, but a calm, unspeaking countenance. After a brief pause, h~ spoke as follows: "Nay, your Excellency, it does not seem so necessary that the Knight should be lost to the expedition, even should he wed with my niece. He may be persuaded to follow it after he hath wed- ded -" "Better before !" said the Lady Isabella with a smile. "Yes, I grant you, better before; and, whatever attempts we make upon him should be 8eaSOflably tried; but, failing to pre.. vent his bridal-which, I repeat, is by no means an assured thing -then we may negotiate that he follow thee when the honey-moon is ov~r. Thou wilt suffer one or more small caravels to remain from thy fleet, wherewith to bring stores after thee, and the sick soldiers, and in one of th~se he may easily depart with others. Thou wilt hardly feel his loss ere he is with thee. Thou wilt consume several weeks in thy progress along, and thy descent upon the coast-rn the unloading of thy caramels, the landing of the horses, hogs and cattle, and in other needful preparations. When thou art ready to penetrate the country' of the Apalachi- an, he' will, if we use the proper means of persuasion, be with thee in ~ "And these means of persuasion. Sant' Jago! Shall I go to this Knight of Portugal, and bend myself before him, and say, 'Sir Knight, wilt thou honor thy servant by taking thy part in this expedition'?"' THE EMISSARY. 141 "Nay, nay, my lord -" began the lady, but the Adelantado waved his hand impatiently, looking to Balthazar. The latter did not delay his answer "Will your Excellency leave this matter wholly to me? I will use what proper arguments I may. I will in no respect com- mit thy pride or honor. I will promise office, and the command of a troop, yet in no way conflict with thy engagements.7' "How wilt thou do this ?" "Nay, w~ill it n t suffice that it shall be done ?" "In God s nam , do it; I shall say no more. Thou wilt re- lieve me of an e barras~inent; and if thou succeed'st with this churlish cavalier, ill do ~melp to the enterprise, as none better knows than thou! Away, Don Balthazar, and let the grass not grow beneath thy cet. To-morrow thou knowes~t the tournament begins, and there i much work for thee here as elsewhere. To thy papers, my se retary-.---my soul, ratl~er !" And witl~ this s perb compliment, the stately Don turned, to his wife, a~d pr needed to dictate as she wrote. Don Bal~ thazar, havi~ig cart blanche, made his bow and took his departtrre. lie lost no time i visiting Philip de Vas&onselos. The office was one which the uncle of Olivia would have cheerfully deputed to another; but t s was impossible; and he proceeded accord- ingly to the work before him, with the promptitude of one to whom the duty is apparent. His hope lay. in the temptation which he would ho d forth to the ambition of the adventurer. having himself litt e faith in the affections as sufficiently compen- sative to man, he persuaded himself that the aim of Philip de Yasconselos was t e fortune of his ward. If he could hold forth a sufficient lure of the same character through another medium, he flattered himself that he should be successful. None c~oubted that Florida and t e mountains of Apalachia concealed treasures in gold and silver, ems and precious stones, equal to any in the keeping of Peru. He knew that this faith was especially taught by the Portuguese who h~d been one of the explorers of that country with the cavalier Cabeza de Va~a. All that seemed essential, therefore to beguiling him to the enterprise, was to I U I page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] 142 VASCONSELO~. mollify his pride, and secure him the means of going thither in a style which should maintain his dignity and afford him an ade- quate command. For this money was necessary, and De Soto had none to spare. The resolution which Don Ealthazar had formed, was to use~ the means afforded him by the large income from the estate of his niece, of which he had con~plete control. To employ the wealth of Olivia in ridding her of two dangerous - lovers, seemed to him a perfectly legitimate measure; though, in respect to the propriety of the proceeding, he never allowed himself to doubt for a moment. Thus prepared with his gen. eral plan of action, he entered the humble dwelling of the Knight of Portugal. Philip de Yasconselos beheld the approach of the unusual vis- itor without surprise. He had, in fact, anticipated the unwanted courtesy, and we may add, had partly designed it should be so, when he instructed his friends to declare aloud his determination. lie knew quite as well as aiiy other person, how necessary he was to the purposes of De Soto. The appearance of Don Bal- tliazar seemed to assure him also of the conviction felt by the latter that his niece would favor the suit of the Portuguese. The instincts of Philip de Yasconselos on this subject had been strengthened by the positive reports of Nuno de Tobar. They were confirmed by the visit of the uncle. His hands were ac- cordingly strengthened. He was prepared for the interview. Though yet a young man, hardly more than thirty, he had been a soldier; had travelled much; mingled much with men; en. dured those vicissitudes which strengthen patience, teach coolness, and give insight; and with a mind naturally acute, and a judg ment well balanced and secure, he was more than a match foi men of greater age and as much experience. He was a politician over who~m the habitual cunning of Don Balthazar could obtain no advantage. It was a curious study to watch the interview between the parties-to behold the Castilian Don doubling like a fox through all the avenues of his art; to see him circling around his object, without approaching it; to note how warily he kept, in regard to his secret fears, while holding forth his rno~t beguib ing lures ;-in pa his flatteries of t solved, simpler medicine at the p ip's vanity and a practice which ha the young men o Yet Philip de young man oppos fled with the prai guise the ambition politician to belie his heart. He w spoke to Don Bal of one who .regar course of her affe niece "-he didn speech, as to a con tenancy equally as his thoughts of an than friendly to hi with which he gave of self-complaisanc who felt thd his cli looked so fair, as~ something too das In the end, all that knight was a pro: honestly up~n the answer before the ~ "Demonios 1', m taken his departure the rabbit in a sack It is clear that he h( on her whether ~te 1 ha! virtue !-.-.if he DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 143 ticular to note how sweetly he could insinuate e man he hated in his soul, and had already re- medies having failed him, to treat with sharp )rnt of his dagger. lie tried the pulse of Phil- Lbition with most laborious art, and a skill of I succeeded with ninety-nine in the hundred of the time. But he tried in vain. ~Tasconselos gave him no direct denial. The ~d art to art. He showed himself highly grati- es of the other. He made no effort tp dis- ~ which he really felt, and suffered the old e that all his flatteries had made their way to s never more Thank and cordial in his life. He ~hazar as to the uncle of Olivia, and in the strain ~ed him as in no degree adverse to the free ~ions. He did not say to him, "ill love your even speak of her; yet he so shaped his ~ldential friend, and so governed tone and coun- to indicate to the other the utter absence from doubt that he, Don Balthazar, could be other self and objects. The confidence and ease himself out-apparently~just forebore the look and expressed the sense and spirit of a man ances with fortune were quite even, or at least ould render any reluctance to press them, a ardly for the toleration of any brave man. Don Baithazar could obtain from the young ise to consider his proffers-to deliberate ,-and resolve seasonably, giving his final departure of the fleet. uttered the Castilian to himself; when he had "This dog of a Moor thinks he already hath * But he shall lose his own skin ere he hath. pes for Olivia's consent. Now will it depend stes my dagger or not. If her virtue-Ha! virtue holds out to refusal of his hand, why I page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] TTU~ T1~EASUR~. L4~ 144 ~ASCONSELO$. let the dog drift where i4e seas may carry him! but if; as I fear, her passion for him proves too strong for her magnanimity, he must die! So be it! ]~Ie shall never live to be her master-or mine !" He returned with all diligence to the presence of the Adelan. tado, whom he found in the most joyous mood. The change of a couple of hours had effected wonders. When he left his pres. ence De Soto was angry and sullen. Now his mirth was abso- lutely boisterous. In this merriment, though more temperately, Donna Isabella shared. Don Baithazar looked on with wonder, and several times~ vainly essayed to speak. He was always overborne by the laughter of his superior. "Tell me nothing yet," cried De Soto, at an interval in his bursts of mirth,'-." Nothing that shall qualify my pleasure. Ha! ha! ha! wait, good Don Balthazar, till I can recover breath, when you shall hear, and then, if it be not wholly against your princi. ple, you shall laugh too." "Ay, ay, your excellence, as Sancho counsels, 'Let not thy secret rot in thy keeping!"' "Ere long it will be no secret. The story is too good to be kept from air. It must be sent abroad, and no doubt will gain addition as it goes. Thus, then, there were some bar ques that put into pQrt, as thou knowest, from stress of weather yesterday. One of them had spru~ig aleak, and needed repair. On board of this vessel came Hernan Ponce, an old comrade of mine in Peru. We were dear friends in Peru, and we made a brotherhood be- tween us, which is, as thou knowest,, a copartnership for common interests and profits, to last through life. We were thus to share our gains and losses equally, our honors as our profits." "Ah! and he now comes to claim of thee the half of thy state here, and thy command in the expedition ?" "Nothing half so good, Don Balthazar. He claims nothing at my hands, but his aim is to escape from claims of mine. Thou must know, then, that Reman Ponce hath made great profits in Peru, and with immense wealth of gold and silver, jewels and precious stones, \he hath embarked at Noinbre de Dios for Spain. It is greatly aga great was his fear Captain of the bar lower of mine, if h peril the ship's sa scent for a rogue's was not tq be ov vised me, Ipy secre upon I sent~ a most pliment an~ congr come on shore, an dwelling, my comn tion." "Ah! well-he "No! no! Then it appears, who 4 was a poor advent~ ture changes. He day, pleading fatig Diego gave me to nication with the s such as might see c so, until every ml watchers. It was a Drawing a curtain goodly coffers, in 'v~ stores of gold, and ness. * "These,~~' contint be hidden somewhe set upon the marin( and it is here. I l( on board but his cc share with me in c have I not reason fc will he stare when I 7 ast his will that he hath pu1~ into havana. So f my demands that he n~ade great offers t~ the ue, Diego de Miruelos, who was an old I~ol- would steer wide of Havana, though he sfr~uld ty in doing so. But Diego~, who has a keen secret, and who knew the danger of his vessel, borne. So here he is~ and yesterday he ad- message, of him he hath on board. Where.. courteous dispatch to Herna4 Ponee, to coin- ulate him on his arrival, and ~to entreat him to in regard to our brotherhood, to share my and, and the honors and pro~ts of my expedi- lath complied?" is something of the fox in ~wed himself a true comrac irer. Now, that he hath grc excused himself from comin e; but he is to visit me to-d~ understand that Reman held tore, hind counselled me to early amid the darkness. X t and landing-place was cc wise precaution. Look at t a, De Soto showed.to his g hich, the lids being remove pearls, and precious stones ed De Soto, "were sent ash i'e. But, even as they~were] ma, dispersed them, seized ur ann from Diego that Hemn~ fK~rs of silver. These, if pr compliance with our articles* r merriment, think you? J~ ie beholds them !?' Reman Ponce, .e only when he wn rich, the na- ; ashore yester- by.. Meanwhile, secret commu- et eyes abroad, V~hereupon, I did vered with my Lie fruits of it;" iest a couple of I, could be seen heaped to full- re last night, to ~nded, my spies on the treasure, ii kept nothing ~ssed, he was ti~ f brotherhood. a! ha! ha! hew. 1I MG 144 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] VA8GO~T$~LQS. 146 "Wilt thou show them ?" "Eh ! why not? He shall see-the sordid runagate, that I know him! I will shame him with my discovery."' "Which is clearly forfeit." "Nay, the dog. I will not keep his treasure from him. I will spit upon it, and force his shame upon him." *" It is a gift of fortune. Thou wilt need it all, Don Her.. nan." "Nay, teach not that," interposed Donna Isabella; "rather let it go, lest we be haunted by the prayers of hate and avarice. My lord will, I trust, need none of the treasure whieli is yielded grudgingly. I Would not have his honor reproached by scan- dal." "But it is his right, Se ora." "Yes! but one may w 11 forego a right when there would be feeling of shame, and' not pride, ixi its assertion. Better let my lord do as he nobly reso es,-spit upon the treasure, and so upon the baseness of the o er." It was probably the ad ~ce of the lady that led De Soto to his determination. He was r ther inclined to grasp at treasure from whatever source, and his reputation is not above the reproach of an unbecoming avarice. While they were yet speaking, the attendants announced th approach of Hernair Ponce, upon which Don Balthaz r said~'- "My need requi es me elsewhere. I will not stay to see thy treatment of this p rtner of thine, particularly, as it seems to me, 'thou dost unwisely in restoring him his treasure. Better wert. thou to help thys 1f and punish him thus. It were the most~ effectual manner f r teaching him his baseness. lie would then. surely feel it. Su h a wretch will g~ off exulting, even though thy spittle should somewhat stain his pearls." "What of the k ight of Portugal ~ Dost thou make any thing ofhim?" "He speaks faii4y, but does not yet decide. He will deliber- ate upon my couns~ 1 and proposals." "Ak! he will d~libera~e. A curse upon the insolence of the H~1INAN PONOE. Moor-for al these Portuguese are of ml he will delib rate whether he will serve the service o a Castilian knight. I woul the Apalachi or that I had those about much, then s ould he never set foot in thi too great a gl ry for such as he." "Ah! my ord, thou dost this young k fear," said the lady. "Break oil;' said Don Balthazar.-"here ( brother in ar s and fortune. A Dios, y t flora, I kiss yo hands." "Let down he curtain upon the coffers," as the footstep sounded at the door without. ment; the unha py Hernan Ponce was ushe ment. He ha been apprised of the miscar he suspected in o whose hands it had fallen was taught to s e his own baseness. His lo feared and felt. But in those of the Adelant lady he saw no hing but cheering smiles, an De Soto receive him as an old friend, and be and expressed n unkindness. He resolved t the captured tr asure until Ponce should s time the latter ~7 rbore, talking about wholly But where the t measure is, there will the hear~ of the fullness o the heart will the mouth The luckless adv nturer, at length, delivered liij and told the stor of his misfortunes. The A~ waiting for this o opportunity " "What! Her an Ponce, hadst thou then thou describes, a d wouldst thou have hidden I I not to share wi h thee in thy prosperity, eve: with thee in thy adversity? Lo! now the d us. Ilehold thes articles, properly devised, s seal, in.which, as hou seest, all that I have exj sent expedition, a 1 the ships and munitions, the the men and m ney; all the titles, command( ~d blood, I think !- ranks- of honor.-...4 he knew nothing 0: e who knew half s~ enterprise, which i~ 1 ~ht a gre~g~ wrong, ~omes your wealthy ir excellence. Se- ~id De Soto hastily, In the next mo- 'ed into the apart.. age of his treasure, *and, in his loss, he ks showed what he Ldo and his noble I a frank welcome. rayed no suspicion, ) say nothing about peak. For a long different subjects. be also,-and out )e forced to speak. rnself of his secret, [elantado had been such a treasure as from me? Was as I had shared erence between gnecl, and under ended in my pre.. arms, the horses, s, and privileges 147 page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] ~kvi~e4 for tour ~qi~al cord~x~g to the articlel w~. I~e~d the writing iiesse~, gt~i1; thou c have not, in all thing~ therhood ~ Reman Ponce read justice with which II he had been unworthy "It is not too late t ~o thee stilt if thou me, my titles and coi yield thee sgeh as tho be thine; the one hal 7' win. The humiliation of treatment of' his old fully.-~ "It is vain now, si vessel, I have no trea~ a wrong to accept th( share of what was nil "Nay, Reman Pc treasures 4hath fs~llen pearl is missing from As he' spo1~ie, Donr miser gasped with jo from the coffers, and touched." But this episode briefly told by the ci for conquest. He w~ Now that his grasp ~ incurring no further Engli~h.-" bird hi tl~ from tl~e crown, I have ~et down and benefit, and x~ade thy half secure to thee ~s of fraternity rand copartuership 'between s for hyseif. See the names of the wit.. ~use ot~ complaintt ~ Wilt thou say that I fulfill dipy part of the contract of bro.. SotIliad and fumbled himself. He admitted the proceeded, and confessed that of suc~i a brother. o aton~, Reman Ponce. The way is open art pleased to share the expedition with amands, my stores and possessions, I will imay'~t' prefer. The one half of all shall ~ of th~ conquest and the treasures we may llerpa~i Ponce increased, under the noble companion in arms, but he said mourn- ice, except the silver which is' on board the ure of value left. It would be a shame and half o# thin~e, when I held back thy proper rice, it is not so evil~ with thee yet. Thy into friendlyy hands. Look, Seftor, not a thy co~fers." a Jsabella~rais~d the curtain, and the~ greedy ~~ous wonder, as he eagerly lifted the cover saw that his gok~ and jewels remained un- aeed not detain us longer. The history is Lronteler. Hern~in Ponce had no ambition is content with the treasures in possession. ras once more upon his coffers, he was for risks. The Spanish equivalent fQr our ~ hand. "-~-w~ tripping busily in his brain. Tag PARTN~saip DISSO~V~D. The honors prc He had just li reason to 5U~~( genial company Yery grateful tc really 'he could well-won honor well-grounded' I change of air fro~ it, and his treas sphere of Sevill the coinage of Ii rations of the mu strong and gooc these aloud. TI soul. De Soto treasures, and pe: Reman Ponce j lars in gQid, whi~ the story ceased I depart, with the r he originally app~ which, though occ this place. [Ellis i ing until De Soto Cover t*he ten th( this brave womai all his treasure, '~i plied quietly that t and the plaintiff as that the latter Owe( being half of .the 01 ruanding the arrest ment should be giv this replication in C of his ten thousand posed to him seemed to be r ft the land of savage and se that the Apalachia s were ~ns than those of Pana a. his brother in arms, the no' not think of depri . him .-.-any of the results likely opes of conquest. F r his o n the flew world to the old. Limes. He longed to a his ~; he thought his ing~tswou s majesty. He was 9urious ~t. ~d there were ~any oti W~e do not mean~ to sa~ Ley w~re the unspoken argun listened with contem t. Gl~ ~haps feeling some co puncti resented to the Lady sabella 1 he entreated her gr ciousl~ ere, we might have $ ifered ~putation of being less base ai ared. But there is another s during afterwards, may very user soul repented of this lib had sailed for Florid , he bi 'usand dollar~ from t e Lao i, to whom h9 really wed ti as not to be outwitte or al here was a long accou t betw might be seen in the a~ti~cles c IDe Soto more than~ fifty~t ~tIit for the expedition; and c )f the debtor, and his detentio sn on the facts. ~er~an Po uc season, and withor~t waiti dollars, put out to sea, satisflei 149 ither 'too expensive. trife, and he had no like to prove more .e expressed himself Ac Adelantado, but ~f any share of his ;o accrue f~rom his wn part, he needed us health required )earls in the atmo- Id be improved by !o look at the ope.. ex reasons equally - that he urged all tents of his secret ~d to get back his )ns of conscience, ten thousand dol.. * to~ accept. Had [{emnan Ponce to id unworthy than ~ene in the drama well be given in reality , and wait- ought suit to me- y Isabella. But re restoration of irmed. She re- een her husband f copartnersI~ip; icusand ducats, included by de..' a until the judg- ice got wind of ag the return I with his birds 149 page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 VABCOI~SB~tJOB in hand, and leaving those ~ the bush to fly whither they th ight prop~r. They had a ready taken wing with a hundred thousand m5refor the forests o the A~palaChiafl. But we must not antici- pate. CHAPTER XII. 'Weep not at hine own words, tho' they must make Sam~rzr. Me weep." "What cruel s erings, more than she has known, Canst thou in jet ?" Lb. THE household of Don Baithazar de Alvaro maintained its ac- customed serenity to the world without. Its rder had under- gone no apparent disturbance since the death f old Anita, and Sylvia, her mesti 0 successor, seemed ~o fall s naturally into her habits, as if sh had .been trained directly u der them. No doubt the stern di cipline of her master had t tored her to un- plicit obedience, w 1e his precaution haci left nothing doubtful in the directions w ch he gave her for her go eminent during his absence~. But we may mention here, that e girl Juana, if not refractory, was inattentive, and the old hag ho now super- intended the house old had occasion to notice er frequent and prolonged absences~ for Which the girl, on her me urn, was unwill- ing, or unable to account. Once or twice during the progress of the last twenty-four~ hours, ha~ Sylvia fe1~t it in umbent on her to administer an exj~ressive cuff or two t~ the ch eks of the sul- len servant, winding~ up these salutary admonitio s with threats of' more potent handling, and a final appeal to on Balthazar. But blows and threa s did not much niend. the atter. They only increased the ogged obstinacy and sullenii ss of the girl; who, however, did n t spare her yot~ng mistress the recital of her cruel wrongs. he concluded always, howev r, with a sig- nificant and monitor shaking of the head, windin up with the repeated assurance o redress, both for herself an mistress. Olivia did not mu h heed these assurances, and listened, sim~ pity, in that mood of listlessness, which had follow d her despair- ing determination no to wed with Philip de Vas onselos. She lbl page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] * 1~2 VASCO ~SSELOS. abandoned herself ~o this feeling, an~ its external exhibition was apathy. Still, she somewhatt wondered that she did not see her lover-that he did ~iot make his appearance, as her uncle feared, as her friend' Leono~a de Tobar had asserted he would appear, and as she felt itcr~minal to hope. A morning visit from Leo.. nora, the thoughtless, the joyous, upon whom neither shame nor sorrow seemed to ~it long, gave her all the little tattle of the town; and she ran on, with tongue at random, discoursing of a thousand matters in whieh Olivia took no interest. It was only when Philip de Va~conselos became the subject, that the visitor found an expressio4 of eagerness and concern in the eyes of her suffering hostess. "It is certain th~t he loves you to distraction, Olivia. Nuno says so, and he ought to know; and I suppose he could tell me a greali many things to p~'ove it; but he won't. He says Philip is his friend, and ~ie can't betray his friend's secrets. As if a husband should .h4ve any secrets from hi~ wife; and as if I couldn't keep a se~ret. Now you know, Olivia, nobody better keeps a secret then I. I never tell. any thing-never! My mouth is sealed upbn a secret, as solemnly and sacredly, Livy, as if it were a-a ~rh~it ?-why a kiss, to be sure. He might4rust me; I'm sure, with every thing he knows-with every thing he's seen and done, and not a syllable should ever pass my lips. And yet, would you believe it, when I ask him about your Philip and his secrets, only to tell you every thing, why he tells me that Philip says he will tell ix~e;. and that I will tell you, and then every body will ki~iow every thing. The fact is, Livy, one thing is very certain to me, that if your Philip speaks in that way- though I don't believe a word of it-he's a very saucy person, and Nuno should r~ot listen to him. But Nuno believes him the best fell6'w~ in the I world, and says he loves him next to me. Not close, you know, but far off-that ~s, he has no friendship for anybody betwixt him and me. Now I'll l~t you into a great secret that Nuno told me, and 0! he was so positive th~t you shouldn't hear, of ~ll the ~~orld, and I prcimised him not to tell you, Livy, but I didn't mean it and I know better than all that; for what is a at all, and hea indeed! No! Livy, and tell2 The necessity torrent. Mearn secret. That i'i her wretched, s as if it brought to think that ~ not often been great feminine i elements. Oljv -at all evei~ts,: "Well! don't meant to pretend( dying for this s~ more of the plu] men ?" Olivia shook h "Oh! ifyouc - to force it upon y my secrets." * And she poute might as well ha~ as to endeavor tc ascended to her tc "Ah! I see yc You must-know, t] the Adelantado, at you so much. A and the Adelantadc has been sent to y( that Don Balthazat the expedition and have your hand. S 7* TB2EI SECRET. friend meant for, if one is tc r no secrets from them? P Lo! I know better, and I'll rou every thing." of stopping to take breath ~rhi1e, Olivia had not the heart hich was stirring in her oWii ~emed to catch at every sugg4 with it a hope; and, indeed,' ~ery young girls, of the age persuaded to reject a revelat interests, of love and marriage~ [a, however, sat incurious..se, ~he was passive. you ask what the secret k I that you don't. care; for, d me Philip de Vasconselos, a~ Qes in his helmet than of the ~r head. on't wish to know; Mary Mc ou. I can get any number 0: ci and' affected a moment's e sought to stifle a volcano ~ keep down her tidir~gs win ngue. u are sorry, now! Well, y ien, that Philip has determinE d he told Nuno that it was I 2d Nuno says it has caused * is in quite a fix, and your un~ ur Philip to. persuade him; a has made him a promise tha makes but one campaign, th r that all is to end happily at 154 tell them no secrets 'etty friendship that, be faithful to you, alone arrested the tQ reject the alleged bosom, and making ~stion from Without, ~e are half inclined of these two, have ion in. which those are. the understood ~mingly so, at Ie~st Livy? you don't n't I know you're id that you think heads of all other ~her, I don't wish girls to listen to reserve . But-she rith a .soupplate, n they had onice ~u shall hear it. d n0t to go with because he loved a great hubbub, le, the old Turk, ud Nun~o thi~k~ if he goes With ~t he shall then Ia~t, Livy. My page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] i54~ VASCO2~ S~L0S. Nuno and your Philip will come home together, and when you are niarried, we'll buy a ~acienda alongside of yours at Matelos, and we'll be as happy as ~Ards of Paradise with our husbands. Isn't it uke, Livy, and wo~i't we be so happy-so very, very happy?" ~' ~ever! never!" exclaimed the poor girl solemnly, her head drooping upon her hands, through the fingers of which the big tears were seen to trickle. "Oh! but we will, I tell you. None of your never for me. It must be so.! Why, Livy, what do you cry for? Because you will have the very person that you love." "No! no! I shall never marry, Leonora." "Oh! I know better than that! Why, what in the world were you born for, Livy?' What but to marry a noble gentle. man, and-and-oh, you know what I mean; so don't look so like a simpleton." I "I have resolved not to marry, Leonora. 'I hope"-here her voice trembled-~" I ~aope that Don Philip will never compel me to refuse his offer." "Of course, he ~~n't compel you to refuse. No, indeed; if 1 -were he I'd rather compel you the - other way, for say what you will, you love him, ~nd you'll~ have him, if he ever asks you; and he loves you, and he will -ask you; and I shall be at the wedding, and we will live alongside of each other, in our two heavenly haciendas ~t Matelos, and there shall be no more wars, and no more carnpa~gns in Florida, and-and-" There was another breathing spell necessary for farther pro. gress. This found, the gay, thoughtless creature resumed. "But I haven't told you half of my secrets. Nuno says that Philip and his brother Andres have quarrelled, and it is all on your account. He told Philip that you had refused him "He should not have done, that." "No! and by. t1~e way, Livy, that's what I have to quarrel with you about. You never told me, your own sister in love, a word about that business. Oh! you sly, selfish thing. To keep such a good secret ~o yourself, and never so much as give me a peep at it. I wouldn't have ~served you so." "You wouk4 "No, indeed~ body. As for you about the Don Andres t( and Don AndrE tuguese soldier~ has the money~ Yet I doubt if h less, having spe went there witL bucki on his ar he ha , I suspect to bri his hor~ Moor to be the I am ery, very Oh ia looked never poke; a C though -Oh! ~ would have rejo with er wealth wretch d multit every ear was thoughtless comi her waAton, thou~ from her lips, it It sunk ~leep, an perpetual and un4 "But, dear me been telling you? come out well? ~ love him; there ~ now, and your ha a strange, foolish "I shall never 1 Philip, or any m~ LEONOIRA'S CONSOLATIdN. have told it to Don Nuno ?" I can keep a secret as cbs him, I never tell him anythii ~ quarrel. There were high* ld Nuno himself. Philip n' s went off from him and to I ,who were all followers of you know, though he is t e has any great deal of that! t all his patrimony in Flor Cabeza de Va9a. Philip h or, and he has given Nuno to buy him a negro boy e and buckle on his armor. page of a noble knight. 0 sorry for poor Philip." sorry too, but she never P cep sigh forced its way from hat dreadful thoughts were ced to take the poor knight to lift him into pride abo de. Her thoughts took spe rung from a bleeding hear ion dream of the anguish w ~unmeaning babble. Unmea as full of meaning in the s settled firmly there, to be ~ keeping memory. Livy, how can you1~e so sa Don't you see how every t our uncle relents; Don Phili 1 be nothing to prevent yo pines is sure. Do you wee hild, to weep because she is ~ happy, Leonora. I shall n I shall go to a convent." 155, you know, as any. ~. But, let me tell )rds between them. ver said a word ;~.... ~ away all the Por. Don Andres. lie younger brother. But Philip has still ~1a before, when he n' t even a page to [~ money.-all that o serve as a page Think of that.-a it is so pitiful! ;ed her head and ter bosom, and she hers. How she bo her bosom, and e the pity of the ~ch in tears; and Little did her dch she caused by aing though it was ill of the' hearer. reproduced by a after all I have ~iing promises to p loves you; you ur marrying him for that? What ~obe happy !" ever ~narry Don page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 YASCONSELOS. "A convent! What I with your face and fortune? Now I know you are crazy. But you don't mean what you say. Leave ~ouvents t~ the ugly and the poor, to those who have no hopes and no pleasures -~-" "I have no pleasures-no hopes!" "And why not? it's because you won't have them, then. If I were yon, I should have nothing else. I should live in hope all the day,'and dream 6f pleasures all the night. The world should bring me nothing' but love and sunshine, and every thought of my soul should be born in the odor of a thousand flowers. And why should your happiness not be like mine~..you who have the means to make it so? Now don't think to cheat me with those vacant looks. This sadness is only a 'sort of cloud, behind which Is the 'brightest~ moon of joy. The cloud will disappear with the fir~t breeze, an~ ~lie moon will shine out, bright and full of hap. pines. Wait ~ f~w days. To-morrow begins the sports and' the tourneys. Qh! Livy, such great preparations as th~ey have 'made. Nuno has had the arrangement of everything. He took u~e with him yesterday, to seethe lists and barriers. They have raised them ju~t without the city, in a natural amphitheatre among the hills. There is a great enclosure for the bull-fights. We are to have the most splendid bull-fights, as' brave as any thing they have in Spain. They brought in a dozen great beasts yesterday from the mountains-the finest animals in the world; all 'as wild as tigers. Several famous matadors have come with them, and' w~e are to have' such sport. They ha4e raised high scaffolds for the noble p'3ople and the ladies, and in the centre is one- with a canopy for the Adelantado and the Lady Isabella, and their immediate friends; we are to sit with them, Livy, but on lower seats, and 'nearer to the lists, so tha1~ the gallant Cavaliers can draw nigh to us, after each passage of arms, and each select his' Queen of Love &~nd Beauty. Won't'that be charming? Think of t t~t, Livy. 'Pm sure I know who will be among the most gal.. lant knights, atid Pr~i sure I know who he'll choose as his Queen of ~B'eatity~ Ah! but, Livy, you 1~iustn't put on that sad and solemn face! it will ne~r do in si~l~ a scene as that ! '~ T1I1~ PRESENTS. "I will not b there, Leonora." "You can't h lp yourself. Your uncle will bring you: I he rd the Lady Isabella herself will require you to he of her party, and he pi would bring yo . No! no! on such an occ be allowed to st y away. In particular, what greatest beauty nd fortune in the Island we Every body wou d say then, it was because I not wish you to e seen-did not wish you to willing to give u the guardianship of your ti cannot help but ring you. He knows what follow your abse ce; and the blame would re Adelantado will ee to that." Olivia did not nswer, but she felt the force companion had s oken. She had already had by her uncle, as matter of course, that her ~ required; and sli felt, perhaps, that there was from the necessity . Possibly a lurking and might help to rec ncile her to the duty. Nay, reluctance, that w ich would forbear the sight formances of the an she loved? Let her res not to marry him there was no need of a reso. see him in a pubhi - spectacle where he was se more. While th y yet spoke of this matter, a with a billet from Don Balthazar, and a case cc and ribbons. Th se amused the' curious eyes o. an hour. The not~e simply confirmed what had gay lady, touching the desires of Donna Isab space after, a bille from that lady herself; cony t~irnament. sion of the same esire, was also brought her, ~ brilliant necklace ud cross, which she was ent ~and wear at the Olivia received t' any show of inter St. Not so Leonora, who g with a 'savage sort of admiration. "You are the c ldest creature in the world, II you have no heart. I could weep over such bei 15~T be compelled to ~ay to him that she omised her that he ~sion nobody will will be said if the' ~e not to appear? )ori Balthazar ~did be loved-was not measures . No! he an outcry would ~t upon him. The of what* her' gay It signified to her presence had been ~o mode of escape natural curiosity was it a natural of the noble per- Ave as she might, ution to refuse to en by thousands servant appeared training rich silks ~ Leonora for half been said by the Ala. In a short Bying an expres- ceompanied by q~ 'eated to accept, iem, but without oated over them ivy. utiful Positively presents" page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] TIlE PRAYER. 168 VSOONLO$.159 "And I too can letter weep than rejoice over them, Leonora." " What can be the matter with the child ~ Livy, there is some- thing wrong-itis unnatural that you should show such fates at such a time-you, so young, so beautiful, with such a fortune, and with such a lover-with every reason, too, for believing that nothing can now stand in the way of your loves. Livy, I do think that there is something wnong~-soixiething which I cannot guess." For a moment the gay young woman forgot all her levity, an4 turning from the rich dresses and the jewels, fixed her eyes on the gloomy features of. Olivia, with such intense and penetrating cut riosity, That her cheeks flushed and her eyes. fell; and she stain- mered rather than spoke-afraid of that suspicious gaze "No! nothing; only I am sick-sick atheart, Leonora. I am very foolish and weak! Would to Heaven I were dead 1" ~' shocking! was ever such a foolish child! But something i~ th~ matter, and it must be very serious to make you look and speak so ;-and I must know it, Livy. As your friend, you must tell me all. You know how well I ~an keep a secret. Come, dear, tell me what it is that troubles you." This, recalled Olivia to herself. The very appeal to her expe- rience in behalf of her friend's capacity to keep a secret, warned her of the danger threatening her. She did not philosophize ex- cept through her instincts; these sufficiently taught her that a secret, once supposed to exist, is already half discovered; and by a strong mental effort, she threw off her cloud for a spaces and allowed herself to answer prattle with prattle. She diverted her friend's curk~sity from herself to her garments, and in the exami- nation of silks, ribbons and jewels, Leonora forgot that there were any other mysteries in the world. Tl~us the rest of the time was consumed while she remained. q When her gay visitor was gone, Olivia sank into a seeming stupor; yet her thought was busy all the while; the mournful, dreary, ghostly speculation, which aimed at nothing, settled upon nothing, hoped for nothing, and feared everything. The day passed thus. Shewas unconscious mQstly when Juana madeher appearance in the apartment; and only roused herself to i~ep1y to the salutations of Sylvia. Foe appetite failed h periods into a su She felt her lonei~ age of Philip de to compel her te how gloomily! could have died dared not resolve of hope and delig rose superior to h her love, and had passed and found the utterance of h and the nobleness mine ! Oh ! uno] entrusted to thy k While she broo Mother, scarce I she purposes-he very incapacity of I them, to the benig for saving,-let us whom her condition speak. It was only afte~ returned to his hal retired for the nigi of Sylvia. The h "You must seuc must be made to v I can get nothing o she returns, and I s These absences axe and get one more At that moment [was set before her, hut she ~r wholly thus, for long pen t Iden voracity. And she Wa ness, with her other and sever i Vasconselos only grew-befor ~rs. how tenderly did she 1 [Je was at once her hope an ~r him with a bound and er to live for him. On the ed ht she loitered long, but t~he' er love-nay, let us do her j ts birth only in her truth and er still resolute to deny him. r heart and will-" No! I to which he loves, to dishonor e, to what misery hast thou d keepingg I" prostrate before their~ knowing where she lies-sc~ prayers, perhaps, more er wandering mind, to fix, co~ Being to whose maternal spl turn to the movements of th on loads with curses which a long day of toil, public an( station. He did not seek his t. He proceeded at once to g was prepared to meet him. I that idle wench, Juana, to th ork the ground. She is of t of her. She is contiuuall~ old her, she is insolent. She for no good. You had best Thing in her place." uana presented herself. He uld not eat. Her Is, to be roused at alone-.-~-all alone! griefs, and the im- lien imagination ~hink of him, yet her terror. of joy; but she e of this at 'Sirat nobler sentiment istice, rose out of )ndness. The day "No !" was still C) much love bina, im with hand of )Omed the orphan ;e. of the Blessed irce praying as ificient from the inect and breathe nit she yet looks t cruel kinsman her lips do not private, that he - niece, who h~td the apartment th complaints. * hacienda. She o service here. absent; when s after mischief, send, her away, first salutation 158 page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] THE SECRET ~TRANCE 161 Was at the hands of Don Baithazar, in a blow from his double fist, which smote her to~ the eat'th~ She rose with the blood split. ~ng from her nostrils. "Hence !" he e~daimed, with a voice of thunder and a brutal oath. " Hence! To-morrow you go to the cour~try." Juana disappeared-b~t not too far. She wai1~d at the door t~nd listened, her nose dropping blood all the whiP. She did not observe it. She scarcely felt the pain. The blood of the red inah in her veins supplied her with one feeling only, and that was foi~ the indignity. She listened. She reserved herself for her ow~ time; but resolved that she would not go. to the coun- try. We shall see. Meanwhile, a long conference folloWed between Thin Balthazar and Sylvia, in regard to Olivia. "She eats nothing that I provide her. I know not how she lives." "She has supplied herself secretly from other sources. That girl-." I have watched her. She has carried her noth- lug." Juana, as she listened, reproached herself that such was the case. She had never thought of the wants of her young mistress. She now resolved to supply them from her own stores. She now became more resolved than ever to befriend the damsel, who suddenly rose before her eyes as an object of sympathizing Interest. But she did not leave the door. She h~d still other things to hear. "Here is more of the potion 1" said Don Balthazar, giving the I phial. "To-morrow I will see that she goes forth. In her ab- sence search her apartments. If you find food; you know what to do with it." This is all that n~ed concern us of this conference. When Don l3althazar was ~ibout to leave the apartment, his eye caught sight (A' the blood upon the floor which had fallen from the nos- trils of Juana. "What is this ?" ~he said, stooping. "Ha! ha 1" laughed the old woman as "Her nose has caught it. Your hand is not "She shall fli~id it heavier yet. But are "Yes; see h4re-drop-..-.drop......drop~eve The old wom~n pointed out the tracks; they found it in ~a puddle. "Ha !" exclaimed the Don, "the wench She has listened to all that has been said~ H for it. Mix the potion with her food, also. Olivia, well! ou end is answered. That is thE bribed her. Sh supplies her with food, so ti reject her own. Now we have her. But tal and when she goes forth to-morrow, search hc while, do you g to the room of Juana and se Put on a gentle anner with her. Beguile h your reproaches of my violence. I will go t~ Olivia, and see i like manner after her." The old woma threw off her slippers and ~ room of Juana. Don Balthazar waited awhile slowly, on his w y to the apartment of his nn yond it. When he drew nigh, he found Sylv: Juana's chamber. "She is not th re," said she in a .whisper. "Ha! she: is t en here !" lie pointed to 0 down and wait." He spoke in a whisper also. disappeared. Do Balthazar tried the door geii within. He dre a s1~eel probe from his poe touched a secret pring in the panel. It silent crouching nearly o the floor, he succeeded, wi tearing the apart nt. A dim light burned ii] uncle looked up, nd was confounded to see hi~ eyes quietly beho ding all his movements. D all the shame and meanness of his proceeding, discovery. Sear d, recklc~ss, indurated as he '~ suppress the sudd n flush that oversprea~ his ci the confusion whi h paralyzed his movement at she lQoked down. a light one, Senor.~~ ur sure ri to the door." )uV on the outside has loitered here. it we must fix her [f she shares it with secret. Olivia has at the giu4can~well :e all precautions; r chamber. Mean- what she is about. ~i'. Do not spare the chamber of oftly stole to the and then followed ce7 which was be- a emerging from ~ door. "Go The old woman iy-it. was locked ket, stooped~ and [y. enclosed; and ~hout noise, in en- )on a table. The niece seated, her n Baithazar felt in the unexpected as, he could not ieek~, nor conceal d for a moment page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 YiS9ONS~LOS. arrested his speech. The face of Olivia declared her equal scorn and loathing. She never rose, but looking on him with pitiless composure, she exclaimed,- "This, then, is the noble process for accomplishing my de.. struction !-worthy of a noble knight-thrice worthy a Castilian gentleman-and altogether becoming a guardian and a kinsman 1" The uncle rose, recovering himself; with the erect position. "Thy destruction, girl! What dost thou mean? Dost thou think I come to murder thee ?" "And what else should I think, when thou comes in such fashion, at such an hour, and through an avenue which is secret to thyself? Why shouldst :thou not murder me? and why, if such, be not thy object, shouldst thou thus visit my place of sleep- ing? But thou well knowest I meant not that! Thou know'st that -thanks to thy ether means of destruction! I have now no fear of any hurt thou canst do to this poor life. Wert thou capa. ble of a noble charity, I would entreat of thee to end it-to take thy dagger from thy girdle, and here, with no witness but the holy Virgin, and that Heaven who will at last avenge my cause, strike me to the heart, and close the eyes which now see nothing but mine own shame." "Olivin, thou art passionate and wild !" "Am I then, with the sight of thee, at this hour, knowing what thou art, knowing what terrible wrongs thou hast done to me, and* seeing, for the first time, one of the secret modes by which thou hast destroyed the very life of my life,-my' hope, my soul, for. evei~ I" ~latest th "Poh!Poh! How thou r ese matters. I tell thee, were it not for thy own thoughts and fancies, thou hast suffered no wreng, no hurt,-nothing which should keep thee from being as gay as the gayest,: and as happy as the best. Look at thy friend, Leonora de Tobar " "Speak to me nothing of her! Were it eiTen as thou sayest, that my grief and shame are only in mine own thoughts and fan- cies, is it not the most 'terrible of wrongs that thou hast planted them there, so that their dreadful forms and images keep me from joy by day, and the grave! But, peace-with such penitent ?" "Is no one wit "Did search o us but the Virgin orphan. Hence, "One thing mo missioned me to e wants thy help am that thou wilt attei "And what if I sciousness which I face of such pure attend the Lady I "'Tis well !- with thee ?" ~ '~ She is thy crea What should r do to thee !" The Don, now t "Igo!' Butni with thy insolence t as thou dost not dr "Be it what tho and there shall be ii "We shall see! "Depart as thou key from the lock, ~ was lightened by a and made a step to~ her grnsp; but a ni with anger that incr4 parture, Lull under h panel, whi~h instant] 162 A BOOTLESS ERRAND. iaunt my sleep by night with enough! Wilt thou not lea peace as thy crime may pen thee here? I look for the g her bring thee hither? The Mother, and the Saints who nd leave ~ e before I depart. The Lady treat thee to come to her taste in certain draperies. d her." say I will n~it? What am carry with me, that I should ud noble person! But go.-- abella." ou hast not seen Juana? SI ~ure-one who hath helped foi vith her? I loathe the sight C ~oroughly savage, replied- rk me, girl, thou wilt one da at I shall make thee tremble v am of." u wilt of violence, only let I o tremors." Open the door. I will leav cam'st !" she replied, rising hile for a moment the sco~ itter smile. He looked fun ards her, as if bent to wres ore cautious mood .prevalle( sed the awkwardness of hk er eyes the while, he ss~ramb y closed after him. Olivia h~ 163 ~vorse %~errors than ye me to-night in ait to a hopeless ri, Juana?" ~e is no one with have pity on the Isabella has coin.- ~o-morrow, She I have promised I, with the con. dare look in the teave me. I will ie hath not been my destruction. f all who belong y so enrage me 4th such a terror not be shame, thee.~~ and taking the n upon her lips msly upon her, the key from [with him, and method of do- [ed through the Lstily seized the page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] I~4 YAS~ONSEL0B~ light, and proceeded to examine it; but the seer~t spring was too well adjusted not to elude her search. Full of anger, and with a fierce oath upon his lips, Don Bal- thazar rejoined the old woman, - his creature and confederate, below. "Well," said he, "hast thou found the wench, Juana ?" "She is gone. She is not within the house !" "She shall taste the Calab6zo to-morrow. See to what I have told thee when the Seiiorita goes forth, and make the search thorough. She hath concealment of which you know not. Do thy duty well, Sylvia; in this business, if thou wouldst be sure of my favor. In particular, do thou observe the outgoing of this ~ei~ich, Juana. She hath questionless been bribed by her lady. See to ~ier !" Juant~, meanwhile, was hidden in the groves with a companion. In the shadow of the great orange trees the features of neither we~e discernible; but he was a man, huge of size and bold of speech. lie treated her as if she were a child; but tenderly, as if he were her father. "Never you mind;" said he, at parting with her; "the goods shall be had, and the blood shall be paid for! Only a little while. To keer from the meat awhile, is to strengthen the stomach. It is a strong man only who can wait. He drinks long who drinks slowly. Swallow thy tears, lest they blind thee. To-morrow is better for work than yesterday; and a good appetite better than a bad digestion. Take thy sleep now, n~iy child, that thou may'st wake with both thine eyes open." To tempt ~u IT is necessary t parties to this true. remain in the back-g the scene we are prior to the scenes' ters. Let us return of Portugal, and se occurred in the awk the fruit of eager p~ Several days have in which they were t on that occasion had yet Philip de Vascor return of his brother inon, that he had rela a condition which didi er, from long experiet suspicious, and resen Petuous passions wer lie had striven, thou~ evil spirit in the inoo( rrieut which the latter by Olivia. It was un while, forborne, howe~ loved quite as passic ~prudence than his brc CHAPTER Xlii. "It is not safe ~11 spirits, and let them wear their swor Bn&r ~iat we should now take cogi history, whom we have suffe: round. Our view is soinewh~ iow about to depict having vhich have occupied the two 130 the well-known lodge of the ~ what are, if any, the chan~ yard relations which existed ~5sions, and, unhappily, inispL passed since the interview aim lie sole and angry actors. TI terminated, it' not amicably, a selos, with great sorrow, pei to the cabin which they oc ~sed. again into his condition o iot always forbear rudeness. T ce, well understood and dread I'ul spirit of the young man, too often disposed to infuse ii without much good result, of Andres, and to mollify ti still keenly felt in regard to ler this desire that Philip had er anxious, to~visit the worn nately, though with more ther. lie made no allusions Is." MOST AND FLETCHER. iizance of other 'ed too long to t retrospective, been sketched receding chap~ young knights es which have between them, Leed affections. tady described, tough the scene 13 least quietly, ceived, on the upied in coin- r moodiiess~.. ~ie elder broth- ~d the jealous, which his iim. with violence. to soothe the Le disappoint.. his rejection in the mean~ an whom he nerosity and to h~r in his (166) page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] TI ~ SPANIARDS AND PORTU4UESE. 166 . VASOONSELOS. intercourse with Andres, and was studious so to select the sub- jects of his conversation, as by no possibility to prompt the mind of the youth to turn in the direction in ~hj~h his heart had suffered hurt. But Andres exhibited no sense of this prudence. and forbearance. lie was one of those wilful and wrong-headed, but otherwise noble and generous spirits, who prefer, under dis- appointment, to suffer and complain; who, of themselves, irritate the sore places which they feel, and steadily tear away the plas- ter with which the physician would cure all their ailments. It was in despair of saying or doing anything which could be ac- ceptable to his brother's mood, that Philip de Vasconselos finally forbore the effort. For the last two days, therefore, an ominous silence had prevailed in their cottage whe they met. Nothing was spoken which either might well avoid; and Philip felt with sorrow, that the chasm between them was l~ourly growing greater in depth and width. But he felt with st~il greater sorrow that nothing could then be done to arrest its in~rease. It was to time only, that great corrector, that the matter could be left. But time was not allowed them. The tournament approached, with all its excitements, appealing equally to their pride, their renown, and the somewhat peculiar position in which they stood in regard to the Castiian chivalry. Both of them, accordingly, might be seen, a few days before the event, busily engaged bur- nishii g and preparing their armor. It had already been remark- ed, as discreditable to the Spanish knight~, that their Portuguese auxiliaries were better armed, in a simpler and nobler style, and kept their mail and weapons under better polish than the former. Pe Soto himself had been compelled to refer to these knights in compliment on this account, and to urge their example, in order to prompt his Spanish cavaliers to get themselves serviceable armor, and to k~ep it in order. They were better pleased to show themselves in* gewgaws and gilt thaft in the substantial coverings which were essential to warfare. One of the histori- ans of this expedition thus contrasts the appearance of the knights of the two nations: "And he (the Adelantado) commanded a muster to be made, at the which the Portugales showed then~ selves armed in. lant, with silke Governour, beca him, commanded every one should tugales came, as ~ Castellans, for\ th of maile, and all bad lances." Thq his ~asti1ians into the latter (perhaj~ and appointed th~ original source Spaniards encount tuguese brothers. of such serious di verie bright armor, and the 4 upon silke, with many pinkir ise these braveries, in such an that they should muster anol ~ome forth with his armor: a t the first, armed with very g most part, did weare very b~ of them head-pieces and stee contrast mortified De Soto. ~n emulation of the Portugue~ s unwisely) with unusual f~ rn places near his own pers4 '~ that jealousy and hostilit~ ~red the farther progress into It showed itself so decided~ content. that th~ A ~ further error of passing to the Opposite extreme( such a cold aspect to our adventurers, as to for gree their attachment to his cause and perso: ing them to the neglect and contempt of thos take their cue from their superiors. We have necessary to detail any instances of the unfrie treatment to which they were subject, but ha' ~elves with showing what has been the result minds. Enough to mention that, in their own their ability in the use of their weapon, and ti to resort to it, they found thus far a sufficient any outrageous contempt, while the friendship Castilian knights, such as Nuno de Tobar, reco some degree to endure the slights and indiffere] But the consequence of this false position in the Was to excite their national as well as individual] them resolve upon achievement; to keep their ar all occasions; to be always ready for service with and to pluck the chaplet, on all occasions, from the boasting rivals. But their personal griefs wer 167 ~astellans very gal- gs and cuts. The action, did not like her day, and [that] the which thePor.. od armor...* The Ld and rustic shirts .e caps, and verne In order to rebuke e, he distinguished vors at the first, )fl. This was the with which the favor of the Por.. ~, and with marks ) committed ~the , and putting on ~it in great de- 1, besides expos- a who naturally not thought it ridly or insolent re satisfied our- ~f it upon their skill and spirit, em promptness security against a few of the riciled them in ice of the rest. Castilian army )nide; to make rnor bright on their weapons, helms of their perhaps not page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 VASCON~ELO5 necessary as incentives to perforrflaflCe~ in the case of knights with whom chivalry still prevailed with all the force of a passion. Our brothers pursued their task in silence. Occupying the same dwelling, and with but little space in their somewhat ar- row limits for any performance unseen by either, this sil nec was an irksome one. The elder brother had made repe ted efforts to break through the icy reserve which prevailed in thc demeanor of the younger from that fatal night, the event of which have already been described. On that night, after heli passionate interview, Andres de Vasconselos had returned ron his lonely and gloomy wanderings, in no way irnproveJ for on~ panionship. his affections were more stubbornly cong ale than ever; his passions, if less explosive, not a whit more sul dued or playable. A sullen rigidness was conspicuous in 1 h features; a gloomy inflexibility in his mood; a hostile r er~ in his actions and deportment. This continued, increased ou ly by the reports of the city, touching the supposed su en good fortune of his brother in respect to the affections f t~ lady of their mutual love. The kind words addressed t *hi by Philip were answered only in monosyllables, which w~ sometimes more than cold, and accompanied by looks~ whi thc truly warm feelings of the elder brother regarded a lit less than savage. A becoming pity and sympathy, ho ev led him to be indulgent to a nature which, naturally pas om was now suffering the stings of a peculiar provocatiOn. esic was not Andres the last torn, and the favorite, of a mot er ~ was tenderly beloved by both '~ Philip did not forbear his forts, because they were received with indifference, IEEe it I the moment was one which might form the turning po nt, pivot, of a sad and serious future. The chasm left une se~ season must only widen with time. The affections su ~re( remain ruptured, or hurt, would only become callous f m lack of proper tendance, a gentle solicitude, a heed 1 the patient sweetness of a loving watch, which, never o tru 1 I is re In ~re [ch tie er, ~te, Les, ~ho ef~ Lhat the I in I to the sive, A SUMMER EVENING. 169 never sufThred the proper moment of Consolation to be lost. Such was the spirit with which Philip de Vasconselos regarded his wayward brother. It was two days yet to the opening scenes of the tourney, the beginning of which we have already seen. The day was at its close; a day all flushed with beauty, and sweet with the warm breathing of the budding summer. The sun was at his setting. His not ungrateful rays fell pleasantly gay upon the greezm slope which led to the slight bohio, or cottage, made of poles and reeds, thatched with straw, which the brothers occupied. Soft ificker- ing folds and remnants of purple, that seemed momently rolling themselves up, and disappearing with the breeze, only tcLre-ap.. pear and spread themselves out in increasing brightness, on higher slopes of hill, won, at the same moment, the silent fancies of the brothers. The hills were fringed with faint red tints that glori- fied them as with heavenly halos; the woods, flushed with. the mingled drapery of spring and summer, lay gently waving in the breeze of evening, rocked in the arms of beauty, and canopied with the smiles of heaven. It was one of those delicious mo- ments when the world without passes with all its sweetness into the heart, and takes the whole soul into its embrace of love. The brothers, as by a common instinct, threw aside their toils, and cast themselves down upon the hill-slope, their eyes ranging over the blessed prospect. Their shields, of bright blue steel, spotless, and shining like mirrors in the sun, reflected back the mellow softness of his beams. They hung upon the upright poles without the cottage, on each side of the entrance, to which they furnished a rich and befitting decoration. Their long lances, of well-sounded and seasoned ash, headed with broad shafts of bright steel, that shone like silver in the sun, were leaned against the wall of the dwelling, and also without the entrance. The page of Andres, a gay boy of fourteen, had just made his obeisance, and taken hisdeparture, under instructions from his master; and for a moment, the two brothers,, reposing from their toils of the day, seemed disposed to snatch a respite, in the sweet calm which had 'descended upon all nature in the grateful approach of eve- 8 I I ~j. ~ 1 page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 VASCONSELOS. I' ning. Andres lay at length beneath the slender shadows ( palm, which, at an earlier hour, could have yielded no shelter none was needed now. His eyes were 'shrouded by his a which was carelessly thrown across, his brows. While in attitude, Philip rose suddenly from where he lay, and 'moved a brotherly impulse, approached him 'and threw himself qui by his side. "Andres, my brother," was the affectionate salutation of el&er, "it is naturally expected that we shall both do our de in the approaching tourney. It is due to~our reputation, as ~ knights, and particularly to our position among these gentle of Castle, who would not be slow to remark upon any ux lingness which we might betray in entering the lists. They do their best, and we must do ours. That we can maintain own, and the honor ofour country, in a passage-at-arms, whE with lance, sword, or battle-axe, with any of these cavalic nothing question; though there be knights among them, n who, like Nuno de Tobar, will honor, by their prowess, those may strive against them. These will afford us sufficient exe and honor. It needs not, my brother, that we should cross pon with each other." A grim smile passed ov~r the features of Andres, as he drew his arm from above his eyes. The expression was ai pleasant one to Philip. A brief pause ensued. At lengt~ younger replied: "Verily, Philip de Va§conselos, it were not wise to these knights of Castile to suppose thee unwilling to cross pons with any warrior, even though he were of thy own 1 and nation. Such reluctance, in the minds of persons swo: cavil, might be construed into doubt of thy own capacity; prowess." '"I fear not, Andres," replied the other, calmly, "that an; judgment of these ~r any cavaliers will do injustice to ix mutation, since it will1 be easy, at any moment, particularly~ shall never be unwilling, to satisfy any doubting opponent, ~ silence any unfriendly one. But no man will venture to his by ~tly the roir ~od aen wit. will our ~her ~.s, I any who cise yea- ~ith- un- the ixifer wea- lood n to 'and 'idle yre. ~as I rid to bhink BROTHERLY ADVICE. 171 that any feeling but that of a natural attachment between kins.. men hath kept us from a trial of skill and prowess, which, though it be but the mimicry of strife, is yet too nearly like it, and is but too frequently apt to occasion the reality, not to plead against our indulgence, adversely, in the exercise. It is not, however, what the world without may think, my brother, but 'what we feel within, which should control our wishes in this matter. It is enough for me that, even in sport, I love 'not' to confront with weapon the bosom of a brother who is so very dear to mine." "Brother, mine, I do not quite understand these refinements. We have crossed weapons in the tourney a thousand times ere this, in our early exercises,-nay, in the very training which thou hast given me, and which, as a grateful pupil,"-~this was spoken with a smile by no means pleasing in the eyes of Philip,-.."I am * only too glad to have received at thy hands. What is there now to make the difference ?" "Ask thy own heart, Andres," replied the other, sadly. "Art thou the same person that thou wast, when, without a care or * thought but of the art which thou hadst in thy desfte, thou took'st thy first lessons from my lance? Since that day thou hast mingled, for thyself, in the press of knights; thou hast shared the eager fury of the battle; thou hast won for thyself a name which thou must maintain, at all perils, to thyself and others. But thou hast other feelings, fears and hopes than' those which possessed thee when a boy; thou hast grown a man of cares; and, I grieve to think it, my brotherthou no longer look'st upon me, thy Philip, as the loving friend from whom came thy first lessons in arts and arms. These make 'it prudent and proper that we should not strive against each other. The accidents of the tourney are, of themselves, sufficient to keep our arms asun.- der. Men have been slain, ui wittingly by their rival knights, Through false footing of their horse; through frailty and fault in arm; through haste; through~indiscretion, and those nameless providence of the conflict, of which no man can well account, as no wisdom can foresee. 1I~ut chiefly do I desire that we should not find our weapons crossed, inasmuch as [perceive in thee, my page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] A72 VABCO~SELOS. brother, a decline of that trust in me-that love, which, of ( made it pleasant to me to teach thy inexperience." "I am no longer inexperienced, Philip de Vasconselos. I longer need thy teaching, or that of any man! Thou talk's accidents from weakness, and defect of armor. Never bei armor than mine, as thou knowest, came from the forge of Milanese. It had its fashion from the same hands with thine, is, I warrant me, as free from frailty. My lance is under ti eye. The sword which I carry has been a thousand times wi thy grasp. Thou canst tell the weight of my battle-axe, knowest the value of its tempered metal as certainly as thou thine own. What remains? Methinks, my brother, there 1 such difference between the strength and size of my body an thine. Take the muscle of this armwithin thy grasp. Doth it s] to thee a feebleness which should make it shrink from any st gle with any cavalier, even though he be of redoubtable prow like thyself? Thou speak'st of what is in my heart ;-of a ch~ In my feelings towards thee !-it may be there is such a ohai Verily, I see nothing in my fortunes or in thine, Philip de conselos, which should make me regard thee with feelings stu we bore to one another, when thou stood'st not in the way of hopes, and hadst not yet shrouded my heart, in the overwh ing shadow of thy greater fame! I reproach thee not, that has been thy fortune; but verily, it is no longer seasonable thee, to discourse to me of the love of kinsmen; and I tell more, Philip de VasconselOs, thou hast but too much the hab speaking to me as if I were still the boy, untaught, and only receiving from thee, for the first time, his infant lessons in th of blunt spear and shielded weapon." "And is it thus, my brother ?"' was the mournful answ~ Philip de V~sconselos. "But I will not upbraid thee; and yet I will not forbear 1 treat thee. The feeling which thou showiest is most cert enough to make me unwilling to encounter with thee in this ney. Were it possible, without shame and discredit, to reft take lance in these gay passages, I should most surely with Ld, no of Ler ~he rid me Liin md ost no of .0W ug- ass, rige ge! [i as my im- uch vith Lhee t of now use r of c en~ Linly bour- ~e to [raw PhILIP'S ANTIcaPATIONS. ITS myself from the field. But I am pledged to the encounter; with lance, sword, and battle-axe, three strokes of each; with. Luis de Moscoso, with Balthazar de Gallegos, with Nuno de Tobar; and it may be with others, whom I flow recall not." "Thou canst not well escape thy devoir," said Andres, with a sneering smile. "Nor, sav~e on tI~y account," replied the other "would .1 desire to do so. But there is that within my bosom, Andres, whatever may inhabit hi tliine, which makes me shrink from the thought that we shall cross lances in the me4~e. I know not that thou designest such a conflict; but I know thy ambition-.~ thy pride-and I fear that evil spirit which sometimes possesses thee, making thee blind to thybetter feelings, and to the claims of those about thee, and which, I grieve to say it, has but too fre- quently shown itself in thy moods of late. Brother, hearken to me ;4 pray thee let us not meet! Thou wilt find many noble knights to conquer, who will do thee honor. There will be no lack of the fit antagonist, even though Hernan de Soto himself shall take the field. Let us do nothing which may perchance lessen or change that love which our mother gave us, and which should be dear to u~, because of her, as because of ourselves." "It is on my account-for me-that thou wouldst avoid the encounter with me !" replied the younger brother. "Verily, Philip, thou ha t betrayed thy modesty. Is it so sure that my lance must fail hen it crOsses thine ?-is thy arm-" "Nay, broth r, why thus wilt thou mistake my purpose ?-. thus cruelly o trage my affections? I do not reproach thy prowess when I tell thee that it is on thy account, wholly, that I woul~cl avoid thi encounter. I fear that thou wilt wrong thyself; -that thou wilt show a spirit in the field, which would not well become a broth r ;-that thy pride, wrought upon by sudden pas- sions-by unjust suspicions-by unwise jealousies, will lead thee into deeds of unmeasured violence, such as-" "Such as thou nearest, eh ?" was the mocking interruption. The other answered proudly~his tones growing instantly colder, tL 11 11 page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] * 174 'VASCONSELOS. calmer, and with a slower enunciation, while his eye flasi with a sudden fire, entirely different from its recent express "I fear nothing, Andres de Vasconselos, as thou of all pers should by this time know ;-nothing but shame, dishonor, * the reproach of knighthood ;-nothing but a wrong done to mother's fondness-and that wrong which thy evil mood see resolute to do to our own. To escape this, I would have implo * thee to forbearance; for I know thy temper in the conflict, a~ * somewhat dread my own! Unhappily, we share, in some deg~ the passions of one another. Thus it is that we have both lo where both may be luckless-" "No! no !" exclaimed the other bitterly. Philip did no * gard the interruption. "With our mutual passions roused-our pride endangered i field's regard, I dread the struggle that would follow: for, at moments, Andres de Vasconselos, I cannot easily distinguish kinsman from the foe! Love, pity, the ties of affection friendship, are all obscured in the wild passion when the bi rules triumphant in the brain, and I should bear thee down~ brother, as unsparingly as the least regarded among the ran all this Castiian chivalry." "By the Blessed Virgin, thou speakest, Don Philip, a were already beneath thy spear- "Forgive me, brQther, that I have done so! The Saints fend that lance of mine should ever threaten thee in any co Ibut " "And I tell thee, Don Philip, I no more reck of thy than I do of that of the letist famous of all these Castiian cay I know not of any prowess in thee that I have need to fear;~ promise thee, should it ever hap that our weapons be cr then look to do thy best, or I put thy boasted skill to sha "I boast no skill, brother !" "Thou dost-thou art all a boast! What else is it whe warn'st me that in the strife thou wilt be pitiless-that tho * suffer no thought of kindred to disarm thee ~ Is it not as ed n. ns nd ur 5 L'ed di red, re- the ;uch the and ood my~ s of if I fore- Elict! ~nce, .iers! ~nd I ssed, thou wilt nuch THE SUNSET. 175 as if thy vie~ory were already sure, and t~hou hadst me trampled under thy fe~t~" "I have ben in fault, brother; verily, I confess it. It is not for me to boast;~ and still less to s~em to boast of advantage over thee. Believe me, I love thee too well to be pleased at any for- tune which s all be, or seem, be1~ter than tliine-." The jealous~ spirit of the ~younger brother construed this sen- tence, which l~e interrupted, to refer to the disappointment of his suit with Olivia de Alvaro. "Indeed, thou approv'st the truth of thy disclaimer by thy taunts. Hav~ done, I pray thee, good Don Philip, and ~et the time bring its~ own brood; whether of hawks or sparrows, it mat.. ters not. I ask not of thy purpose, and feel myself scarcely free to tell thee of me. I know not that I have any purpo~es. I know not tha I shall oppose any lance in these passages.. I but put myself in readiness to obey my necessity-or my mood-. whichever it may please thee best to believe. I only know, Philip de Vas onselos, that I am scorned and wretched, and thou triumphant, a well in the love of woman as in fame. Gb to:- why wilt thou goad my sorrows, when such is thy own good for- tune ?" "Andres, let not the sun set on this disagreement. I feel that thou dost me wrong, but I implore thee as if the wrong were mine. Philip exteiided his hand affectionately to his brother, as he made this app~al. The other did not receive it; but, waving his own in the direction of the orb now rapidly disappearing behind the last distant~ billows of the sea, he said coldly- "He sinks !fl and, without another word, rose up and strode down the slopes which conducted to the city. The elder brother threw himself upon the eaith, from whence, during the earnest portions of the dialogue, he had risen at the same moment with the other, and rested his aching forehead upon his hands. "Verily I" h~ said to himself-" he is possessed ~of an evil de- mon! What i~ to be done? Will he put himself in harness0 against me? Can he purpose this? But no ! no !-The evil U ii page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 VA~CON8~LOS. nieod will pass with the night. I will tent him no further the matter." That iiight beheld the twp brothers, in the same apart praying ere they slept; yet t~ey prayed not toget~ier, nor at same moment. What was n their hearts while they appe to heaven '~ Alas! it is our~ fear, that, while the lips move worship, the thought was foreignn to the homage! Pass rather than prayer, was in tl~eir mutual hearts ;-the one dre ing, the while, of earthly lves and earthly distinctions; other, filled with a wild conflict, in which pride and vanity, founded by defeat and humiliation, were busily brooding in V ship at th~ shrine of a divini& which they did not yet presume name. The next day, without naming his purpose, Andres de Vas~ selos withdrew from the place of lodging with his brother, took up his abo4e with Antonio Segurado, one of his lieuten~ it n e 0 I I 0 C C h to ad ts. CHAPTER XIV. "Now rin~en trompes loud and clarion Titer is no more to say, but e~t and west, In gon the spheres sadly in the rest; Ii~ goth the sharpe spore into the side: Then see even who can juste, and who can rid~*~~ Tnx KMGHTm TAu~. HAVANA, at the period of the events which we record, was a growing hamlet of little more than a hundred dwellings. 3ut a brief space before the arrival of Don Hernan de Soto in the island, there had been an invasion oIU the French, by whom~ the little city had been laid in ashes. It had been one of his duties, on his~ arrival, which had not been neglected in consequence of his preparations for Florida, to rebuild the town, which he had been doing with all his energy, and with a free exercise of his powers as Adelantado. To him the Habanese owe the erection of the first fort which the place ever possessed. It will be for the Cuban antiquarians of the present time to fix its location. As a matter of cGurse, we are not to look to the works of De Soto, in rebuilding the city, for the evidences of his architectural tastes, or for any enduring proofs of the labor of his hands. The place then afforded but an imperfect idea of the noble and imposing city that we find it now. She then possessed none of those old gray towers and massive structures, which now assail the vision, and command the admiration of the spectator. Her heights and harbors were not then, as now, covered with the mighty and frowning fortresses that stretch themselves around her, with a hundred thousand guardian hands grasping bolts of iron terror for her protection. But, if less threatening and powerful, she was not less lovely and attractive. Her beautiful bay, then as now, 8* 177 page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 VASCONSELQS. THE SPANIARDS IN AMERICA. 179 lacked but little of the helps of art to render it as wooir persuasive as that famous one of the Italian; and, in the luxu of her verdure, which covered, with a various and delicious b all her heights; in the intense brilliance and clearness of her light, which seemed rather to hallow and to soften, than to] the individuality and distinctness of objects, as beheld by d~ the exquisite fragrance from her groves, and the soothing ness of the sea~breeze-which, in that tropical climate, 4 gards as the most blessing of all the angels who take part destinies of earth~playing like a thoughtless and innocer among forests of vines and flowers-the fancy became sen~ a condition, in which life can offer nothing more gr teful, o fresh; and, to be sure of which always, ambition ight v satisfied to lay aside his spear and shield forever. Her C( each as it were enshrined amidst an empire of ruits a grace, already wore that aspect which, in oriental regions, us of the dolce far niente in possession of their in ates, jw vagabondage, and so irresistibly persuasive, that one wi ceases to wonder that a people, having such posses ions, sh content to seek nothing farther-should demand nothing~ from nature-should even, in process of time, bec me inc to the wants and appliances of art-should forget the civ: which they have won-shake off the convention w ch has them, and lapse away into the stagnation, if not the s vageisi aboriginal~ knowing life only in a delicious reve ie, in ~ istence is an abstraction rather than a condition; a drean than a performance ;where living implies no anx ety, ac no toil, enjoyment no cessation; in which nothing is appr~ so much as change, even though such change may bring promise of a new pleasure. Such is the power ~f climax the charm of thal7of Cuba; but we must not be u~idersto~ suing that such, at that period, was its effect up n the inhabitants. The luxuries of society in that day ad not accumulated, nor was the popular taste so much relaxeJ process of social refinement, as to enfeeble the en rgies a tions of her peopl~. They were still the hardy race w] and iance ~auty, noon.. npair in sweet- ne re- ~n the child [ble of more dl be Ltages, id fra. assures tifying ) feels, )uld be more [fferent Lization uttered iof the iich ex- rather iusition ended h it the ~; such d as as- iropean ~o much by the Ld exer- ich had I: 178 been trained to endurance, strife, and all sorts of' adventure, by the unceasing struggles of three hundred years. The benign cli- mate had not yet done the work of emasculation-perhaps never would have done this work, if the surrounding savages had been left partially unconquered. Had the Spaniards, with the profound policy which is said to have marked the history of Aztec supre- macy, suffered rival and hostile races still to exist, upon whom pe- riodically their young warriors could exercise their weapons, the vigorous energies of their peopl& might have been trained to re- sist all the . blandishments of climate. As yet, they remained unimpaired by its insidious sweetness. The savage still harbored in the mountains; the Caribbee still fed upon his captive along the margin of the gulf; the Apalachian, a fearless warrior, still roved. unconquered in his mighty shades; and the Spaniard, still needy with all his treasures, looked out, on every hand, for empires which he must yet possess. He was sensible of the delicious lux- ury of his Cuban climate, but. did not yield to it his strength. That fierce, vigorous life which distinguished the Castilian character, at the period of the conquests of Spain in the new world,-to which was due such a wonderful constellation of great captains-Cortez, the Pizarros, Ojeda, Balboa, and a host besides-declared the energies of a people in their prime, with a startling mission of per.. formance before them, demanding the equal exercise of the best genius and courage. The compound passion of avarice and ambi- tion left them in no humor for repose. Without pause, yet not blindly, they pursued their mission; and the impatient and fevered restlessness which it demanded and excited, rendered them supe- rior to every persuasion that threatened conflict with their strength. These could only prevail finally with the race which, with ample luxuries in possession, find no longer in their thirst the provocation to performance. For the present, no Spaniard can enjoythe sweets of Cuban airs with comparative safety. They have still a great work to do, are still goaded by fiery passions which will not suffer them? to sleep, and they seize their luxuries with the mood of the hurrying traveller, in a strange land, who plucks the flower along the wayside as he passes, and hastens on page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] VASOONSELOS. t1ir his way. The Spaniards of that day gathered. all luxu 4 route, and threw one acquisition away as soon as they m another.' The fresh desires of achievements kept thc~m from loitering. Acknowledging the sweets and beauties of tl~e scene pfoffered them by Nature~~acknoWledgiflg with due a~precia t1~e bounty in her gifts-they tasted only, and pressed forw T~iey were, then, far from yielding to that base faith (Kor hu it~y), which finds present possessions ample for their wants. needed yet the riper experience of a hundred coming years, ei~joyments not yet within their grasp, to reconcile them to other moral-to the surrender of all such as might I~e risin their hope! They are now driven by those fierce w ~nts of Spain, such as naturally rage in a condition of society~ which some necessities still goad, and where the door to pride~ and p0 Is open always to the staff of gold. Mere ease is not~ the obj This, in Cuba, is ab!eady in the possession of its peojAe. have only to live in the sunshine, and let themselves~ alone, they live! But~ the days of IDe Soto they did no~ hold life to be living. They had then fiercer impulses to appease, more exacting and earnest appetites to satisfy. They obey 5iestiny! They were still chiefly sensible of passion~ taugh the market-place; by the multitude; during the s1~ruggle which to hope is to contend ;-strife, blood, conquest glory personal prominence, in all situations constituting the great a ment to heart and mind. Hence the individuality o the lard; his reference of all things to self; his swelling pride; stern magx4ficence; his audacious courage; the unfailing hardih o~ his adventure. How should a character such as this be se to the unobtrusive beauties of the natural wo~ld~to thi s~nuating sweetness of breeze and z~phyr-to the char~ of fib' a~d landscape ~ How slow will he be to value that soft re~ 'f~6m all excitements, in which we are required to s. are, w~ Ouban~wh belongs naturally' to such a life as that of the ere e rth is always a bloom, where the a~~is always fragrance, wi skies give out forever an atmosphere of love! lowers uits, the sWeets of sky ~nd air~ ~n4 forests and ocea .s, all b [es de all as on rd. an- It 1nd an- to ld il- er ct. ey nd ch nd a in in nd gu- an- his od 51- in- er ose ich the ere nd U- LAWS OF PROGRESS. 181 tiful in turn, all-linked together by assimilative beauties, and all blessing, singly and together,-all nevertheless fail.-perhaps, fortunately tken,-to supersede, in the minds of our Spaniards, the habitual desires of their hearts. Still, the heroic p~tgeant is in the ascendant; the human passion. The crowded spectacle, the strife of violent forces, the eager scene of human struggle and conquest, make them heedless of all that is simply sweet and lovely in their possession. Even women share the tastes with the passions of the sterner sex, and turn from their groves and gardens to the gory terrors of the bull-fight. But why chide ~ These people are simply the pioneers for other races, who shall more securely enjoy what they neglect and despise. They work in obedience to laws of nature, which regard rather the uses of men than their pleasures. One race but paves the way for another. We blaze the pathways for fu- ture generations, happy if they should be the children of our loins, for whom we win empire and clear the way. The Span- iards of the time of IDe Soto, in consequence of a fatal defect in their morals, did not always conquer the inheritance for their own children. But of this they did not dream! How should they ~ Let us now return from our wanderings, and make generaliza- tion give place to detail. Following out his plan, for increasing the enthusiasm at once of his own followers, and of the people at large of the island of Cuba, Hernan de Soto was nowbusied with his preparations for thepublic sports which he had appointed, and with which he was to delight the fancies of the Cubans. It was good policy that he should do these things; for it must be remembered that he was not mere- ly Adelantado of Florida, and of its imaginary treasures and empires, but governor also of all Cuba; which beautiful and prolific island was to be left in charge of the Lady Isabella while he pursued his toils of conquests in the wild recesses of the Apalachian. He had designed his preparation on no ordinary scale of magnificence. Though reputed to be a close ~and avari. cious generalproverbiany so-he was yet fully aware that there are periods when it is necessary to be lavish and even profligate page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 82 VASCONSELOS. f expenditure. The objects which ha now propose4 to at stronglyy urged and fully justified a large departtn~e from ~isual habits of economy. His wife, the noble L4dy Isal was, however, in some degree the prompter of th~s liber~ ~he was no common woman, but one born with a rincely ~o whatever is noble in the regards of man, wheth r in th ~ ernals or the substances of society and State. A enerou~ ulse, at all times, made her anxious to satisfy the popular: ires-that is, wherever their cravings led them to e app: ~ion of great deeds and graceful performance. He know] of the present ol~jects to b& attained by her lord frpm the mon sympathies~ increased, in considerable degree, the nati gracious and free affluence of her disposition. ~he ben mind to the object, and consulted with all round he the v~ schemes by which to render the projected displ y one magnificence never before paralleled in Cuba; and thoug Adelantado groaned in secret over the excess o4 expen which naturally followed from her plans, he was ~et full: scious of the good policy by which they were dict ted; a: tastes readily acknowledged the beauty, skill and s lender promised to be the results of her exertions. The day was at hand, set aside for the common ement public sports, which had become official, and wer to last days. We are not to suppose that, because the hi her for chivalry were dying out in Europe-because, in act, the tuition no longer cherished there any of the nobler obje the order, and had sunk, from a social and politicainto S military machine,-that its' displays had becom~ less o tious or less attractive when attempted. On the contrary usually the case that, with the decay of an institution, its at external splendor, are apt' to be even greater than in t1 of its most unquestioned ascendency; even as the fashi merchant is said to give his most ~magniflcetit "parties ~ has made all his preparations for a business failure! In t world, in particular, where we might reasonably suppo: the imitations were necessarily rude and inferior, of al am, his ~lla, Lity. eye ex- im- de- ecia- ~dge ~om- rally her rious of a the Liture * con- .d his ~rhich f the three ns of insti- ts of mere tenta- 1', it ~S efforts ~ hour )nable ien he ie neW e that these 183 pageants, which seem, over all, to require the highest finish in art and the utmost polish in society-which seem, in fact, to belong only to an old civilization, such as that of Christian Europe,-it was ordinarily found that the ambition for display was more than commonly ostentatious and expensive. Certain it is,. that nothing of the sort in Spain, for a long time before, sur- passed the promise, whether as regards the taste or the splendor, of the great preparations which had been made by De Soto for his three days of tourney and feats of arms, in the infant city of havana. The lists, as our fair gossip, Donna Leonora de Tobar,. has already told us, were erected in the beautiful amphi- theatre just without the suburbs of the town. Here scaffolding had been raised for the spectators, running half way round the barriers, inclosing a portion of the area. These were to be draped with showy stuffs. On some slight elevations, along the opposite space, a ruder sort of scaffolding were reared for the common people. These, in those days, did not assume that what was given them in charity should be of a quality to compare with the best. There was yet a third distinction made in behalf' of the persons in power, and their friends-the persons of noble birth and high position. Their place was something higher than the others, built of better materials, and in more careful manner. In the centre was a gorgeous canopy, which might have served for a prince of The blood. It covered a raised seat, richly cushioned. This was designed for the Adelantado and his noble lady. His immediate friends and chiefs, and the ladies of his court, were honored with private places on either hand. Before this seat were painted the arms of Spain, on a rich shield or escutcheon; its great golden towers, significant equally of its pride and strength, fronting the lists and the oi polloi, and forming a beau- tiful exhortation to the indulgence of the amor patrice. Di- rectly over the canopy, and streaming proudly from a staff that rose from behind it, flaunted, in~ mighty f~Ads of silk heavily wrought with gold tissue, the armorial ~nner of ~astile. A long series of escutcheons of a smaller size, but similar in shape to that in the centre, and not inferior in workmanship, formed a PREPARATION FOR THE TOURNEY. page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 18~ YASCONSELOS. tie~ of very superb panels along the scaffoldings. These denot the seats which were assigned to the noble families, w1~ose ar th~y bore; each placed according to the rank of the ownei, th~ degree of power, or influence, which he possessed in t colony. Banners and bannerets, pennons and pennonc9es, way frbm spears whose broad and massive darts were fashioned so tiijnes of solid silver. The seats were cushioned with~ rich d p~ries; with shawls of brilliant colors, and cotton fabrics dyed1 v~rious~unrivalled hues, such as the people of Peru and Me~ h~d learned to fashion in a style superior to anything beheld Europe.' Bright armor of various kinds, employed for or ment, glittered and gleamed at proper intervals, along the spl did scaffolding; from which, at an early hQur of the morning signed for the sports, choice instruments poured forth peals the most gay and inspiring music. The plan of the festivities quired that the cool hours of the day only should b~ emplo for the 'more active exercises of the combatants. The heat of noonday sun in that ardent clime was, even at this early pe of the year-the close of April-too intense to render agreed any violent displays of agility, under heavy armor, for n~ amusement . The first day was assigned to the yo~g kni ~nd squires, who were to run at the ring, joust with b~unt sp ~nd smite the Turk's head-the English Quintain. there ~o be sports also for the arquebusiers, and the cross~owme latter instrument of war not yet havin~ been supersede f~jrearms. To these a certain time was to be allotted, and Aghts were to follow, and to close the day. The amusement i~he evening, though all arranged, were yet of a priv4e chara ~nd did not fall within the plan of the Adelantado. They also on a scale highly attractive and magnificent. With the first glimpses of the dawn the spectators were t seen assembling. The citizens were turning out in all direct The people were crowding in from the country. The 'y ~sland sent a d~elega1ii of eyes to see, and hands to clap, hearts to drink in and remember, long afterwards, the won~ sights presented in that memorable spectacle-a spectacle ~ Is Le~ i C ii a- 0 10 1~ ~t I re 0 f S. h9e and rqus h~ch I THE GATHERING. 185 was to be not unworthy of the future conquests, in the country of the Apalachian. Very curious was the motley crowd that showed itself on all the streets and avenues leading to the great area of attraction. There were muleteers from the mountain; wandering tribes akin to the gipsies; retired soldiers; and half- savage groups, in which it was difficult to discern which race pre.. dominated mqst, the white man, the red man, or the negro. They constituted a curious amalgam; each exhibiting some trait or characteristic, picturesque, wild, individual, such as Murillo would delight to paint-.such as would have risen into dignity under the brush of Rembrandt. Girls came bounding along with the castanets, by the side of mules on which sat tottering grandmothers; boys loitered with the crossbow, eager to pick up a real by shooting it down at twenty paces. Contrabandists showed open faces, as, on pack mules, they brought the Aguar- dieite for sale, in stone jugs, one on each side; its mouth open- ing from the bosom of a panier. The stately owner of a rich hacienda, where he marked his hundred calves each spring, rode on a brave barb by the side of his family, occupying a vehicle still in use, cumbrous but delightful of motion beyond all others, -the volant6. We must not stop to describe it. As at the present day in Old Spain, in the rural districts, nothing was more curious than the various costumes and characters exhibited by the appearance of the people from the country. Every department in the old country had its fitting representative, tenacious, in the new world, of all that distinguished his province in the old. The gay and vivacious Andalusian, ribanded at wrist and shoulder, breast and shoe ;-.--the confident and swaggering Biscayan; the dull native of Valencia; the haughty Catalan ;-you might mark them all at a glance. Groups wandered on together, the highways to the city being for hours never without its strollers. Old songs were to be heardas they wentfrom natural musicians; sad touches, oddly mingled with lively redondillas, and some- times, from some rude crowded, half soldier and half priest, or poet, you might hear extempore ballacle~ ~Ievoted to the deeds of arms of Cortez and Pizarro. Mules in strings came down with page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 VAsco~sELO$. fruit to the great market; lines of vehicles of all ~rts, a] ing to the clamor. Sometimes, but rarely, the be gar he his cap for charity, and was laughed at as a cheat; for be in the new world must needs be so always. Th re was and fruit for all. Sometimes the beggar, however was a ~ of the lowest class, who never asked for alms, b t got I for the doleful ditties, which no one stopped to hea. The: better music forward; and the crowds hurried on their But, to enumerate is impossible. Fancy the mo t pictu region of the world, filled with the most pictures ue of a pie, and the most contradictory; too proud for restrain with a curious conventional arrangement, which, making thing grave, admirably allowed of the minglingsof the gra the ridiculous ;-all at once thrown into disorder, under tions the most~exciting ;-all in highest state of emotion, ye the most amiable temper ;--happy in the moment, and pi to gather happiness from all possible sources. Already, at early dawn, the trumpets began to pour fori most lively fanfares. Already, a thousand cries of ho expectation arose from the gathering and rapidly inc groups. Some of the young champions were f3irc~ady ground, prepared for coursing, for shooting, fof runni spears at the ring, and with swords upon the Qu~ntam. were busy raising butts and preparing their shaft~ for th of archery. Some had chosen their rivals, in passages wit lance and muffled ra}~der. Jugglers and buffooi$s we~e groiind-tumblers began their antics, and, ever a~d anon burst of clamor #~om the crow4 announced some ~Aever ~ ance, or the appearance of some favorite champ n. ~occasionally rising into shouts, declared the motion wrought restlessly in the bosoms of the multitude, like the of the troubled sea heaving up in the glorious su shine. have to describe for the present, not anticipate. The lists were made sufficiently ample for the conflict as well as foot, and for the passages~at~arrns of se eral as combatants. But these did not confine the van us exe dd. ~1 out ~ ary r om a oUt ~ fee e as 1 rch. e que I eo- Et yet e ery 1c4 and c~ndi- ;~dlin ~jj~ared i their rind 'e sing o the Lg with thers orts i lunt o the loud ~ form. Lr~nurs, ~vhich billows f~ut we horse single [ses of TEE PROGRAMME. 187 many who aimed at sports of their own, and who found favorite spots upon the sides of the surrounding hills. Rules had been published, prescribing the various fbrhis of combat which were to be allowed within the lists, and the manner in which they were to be conducted. These were all to be pacific in character, how- ever deadly might be the weapons which the parties thought proper to employ. In the hands of tIW good knight, or squire, it was understood that the sharp spear, the sword, and the battle- axe, might be used with the noblest shows of skill and power, yet without hurt to life or limb. There were tilts appointed with the lance, and duels with the sword; contests of strength were to be tried with the mace and battle-axe, ~nd of dexterity with ~the dagger and the knife. But, in each case, the contest was inva. riablyto be decided, when one of the combatants should be put at such disadvantage as would place him at the mercy of his op- ponent, or render necessary for his relief a battle ~z l..'outrcznce. To compel respect to this regulation was not always easy when th~ pride of the champion was mortified, and his passions roused; but De Soto had reserved to himself a~ of right, to be the judge of the field, and his warder was Don Balthazar de Alvaro, a person no longer young, of grave aspect, of high authority, and quite learned, as well as experienced in the business of the to~ir~ nament. It was reasonable to suppose, therefore, that a due re- gard to the regulations which had been published would be c~b- served among the combatants. Of these hereafter; we must pause for the present. f c page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] CHAPTER XV. "Furious to the last, Full in the centre stands the bull at bay, - 'Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast, And foes disabled in the brutal fray: And now the matadors round him play, Shake the red cloak and poise th~ ready brand: Once more, through all, he bursts his thundering wa~ Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand, wraps his fierce eye~~'tis~xut-he sinks upon the sa td !"-Bri}s CHIVALRY is only another name for enthusiasm. T never dies out in a community where the other may found. Enthusiasm must exist where there is enterpr~ courage; where there is zeal and sympathy; wl4re the essential for performance do not entirely stagnate. W make sufficient account of thi~ great leavener of t~ie passi the virtues, which purifies t~he one and stimul~&tes th When a people too greatly refines itself it sneers at enthusiasm. .Kmpressement is vulgar in the eyes of an a: cy; and an aristocracy thus sinks into contempt! W the tastes show themselves wanting in enthusiasm~, they a: to destroy their possessors. The Spaniards had not yet reached this condition I Never were people more easily aroused, or mere enti To see them weep and smile, and shout and sing, wit] moving cause, apparently, you would suppose then crazy; but their madness had its moving cause, howev4 arising from the active sympathy of the real life wit souls, and the grand and unmeasured passions which ti exercised. Give me a people for performance, who yet learned to conceal their emotions. 188 IC y V. C e one ~t be and rtues .0 not .s and ther. I and tocra- never about Cuba. ~iastic. ~t any limply latent, a their daily ye not TIlE CROWP. 189 Havana swarmed with life. At an early hour of the mor~iing, as we have said.-nay, long, before the dawn-.the hum and buzz of preparation were to be heard in every quarter. The country had poured itself into the city; the city had suddenly take~ the voice and wing of liberty, such as the country usually enj ~ys. You might see, all night, the gleam upon the hill-sides of tor4~hes guiding the foQtsteps of long cavalcades Over all the routes f~om the interior. Knights, nobles, artisans, peasants and mdun- taineers, barriers and contrabandistas banished rogues, outlaKvs, returning in. disguise, and reckless of danger, in the passion wl~ich the tournament inspired; we have seen already how motley ~ind various were the groups. Crowds, fr6n~far and near, came on foot. A single mule sometimes confriVed to bring a family; the cart, the sedan, the volante, were all in requisition; and very picturesque and beautiful was it to see the long trains, seemii~g, for all the world, one great continuous procession, winding alopg the circuitous paths~; climbing suddenly 1~o the hill-top, streaming though the plain, and vaguely reap~earing~recognize~ 1y their torches only-in the deep dim ave~lues of the silent fore~Lt. After a group on foot, gay and rambling, would you see tl$e stately and swelling hidalgo, on. his great horse, showily capa]~i- soned in gaudy and costly garments. iN~oble ladies in their cai'- riages, of whatever sorts-sometimes in litters borne on tAe shoulders of the slender natives of the island.~followed und~r the guidance of the Don. At ~a respectful distance in the rea, came groups of peasants, and there, heedless of all, rambled foi~- ward a savagely bearded mountaineer upon a donkey, whos~ horrid screams at intervals, causes the gorge of the knight to rise with the desire to punish the impertinence that dogs his heels s~ closely with such a beast. But even the Baron grows indulgent with the spirit of the scene, and the m0unta~neer rides neare~L and nearer, without suffering from the wrath which, at anQthe1~ time, his approach would most certainly f~rovoke. But day opens the mighty pageant, and the sun hurries up with his purple banner, to be present at t1~e scene. Fancy, now, the conflicting but mingling masses; the Picturesque and oddly page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 YA$CONS~ELO~. sorted costumes; the wild, but exhilarating mix1~ure of~ the hum, the stir, the billowy swaying to and fro,~ with rc scream, and cry and hiss, and shout and 1augh-tha1~, howev ous, all fuse themselves together, as it were, intq~ one ur voice of hope and enjoyment. The hills surrounding the ami tre are already covered with tents and booths of reed, thatch straw; withvehicles of all sort; groups of nTiules and horses; for food, and fruit, and liquor; shows of mountebanks, am for the gamester. Gay st~eds are fastened, and watc livened pages, under clumps of palms affording shelter banners stream from every tent or lodge, assigned to and men-at-arms. These, raised as if by magic, during ceding night, occupied the more eligible vacant places con Each bears without the armorial insignia of the noble, wh held due warranty from the legitimate herald, or owed only to the persevering ambition of the pctrvern~, who s den the shelter of a gray antiquity, to hide the short f coarse frame of the adventurer. At intervals a sweet strain of music rises ~'rom a c verandah, and an occasional shrill blare of a sudden tru: ounces the setting up of some banneret, or the arrival ground of the followers of some one of the n any bold who designed to take a part in the business of the Some of the pavilions of these knights are of silk, on 'with figures of gold-thread and brocade; not le~s splene eye are those of others, though made only of the cotton the island, of Mexico and Peru; but these are all glo~ rich and living dyes of the new world, the art of prep using which was peculiar to the country. The pursuit busy, going forever to and fro, assigning piace~, accord * gree and rank, for the pavilions of the sc{veral e Tno~ops of cavalry flourished around, as a police, coerc Small detachments of infantry march to and fro, their n shining in the sun. The raised centre of the scaffold the amphitheatre, which is assigned to the ~de1antado ~ ~nediate circle, is already pavilioned with a gongeov o~ces; and n~ van- x~ersal L4thea- with ~tands tables 1 d by Gay k~ights he pre- ,i~uous. t~ien he i rank Un- o~k and n~tained~ abet an-J i on the' 4valier~ 4urney~ E4nented i~l tothc~ s~uffsofi ding at4 r Lnts a ng to d~- iampion~. ng orde~. i~ anoUn~ riri ~ in~- canOp)~. I. DE SOTO'S &4TTQ. 191 The banner of' Castile and Leon is alPeady rollin~ out, wit~i its great, gorgeous and gold folds above it. Not so loftily raised, but yet so placed in the foreground a~ to attract all eyes, is~ the personal banner of De Soto: a sheet df azure, on which is parted a spirited picture of a cavalier, mounted on a fiery charger, toth armed to the teeth, and about to leap precipice. The picture il- lustrated one of the Adelantado's great eats in Peru. The m~tto is Italian, in gold letters~"pj~~~j pu ; eke a trionfar ti ~uic~o.'~ When De Soto was asked by Don Balt~iazar why he put so pr~m- ising a motto in a foreign language, whi~h was known to so fe~ of his people, he answered." That it may 1~e more impressiv&pr the Adelentado Was something of a philosopher. Hardly Was the banner seen to wave than some one wa~ ready to translate for the curious multitude the mysterious pi'omise. When told that the gallant cavalier only swore in Itali 4n that he would conduct them to conquest, there was not a syllal~le of the inscription that was not gotten instantly by heart, and ~ht ~a night it was sung as the burden of a refrain, by a native rhy~nester, who was conte~it to encourage the enterprise upon which-Lhe did not go himself! Next to the pavilion of De Soto, on tue right, was that of t~e Captain General, Don Porcallo de Figu~roa, his banner shining above it, gleaming with a sun of gold. Don Baithazar de Alvaro had his place on' the left of the Adelanta~fjo, whom he was to as- 51st as warder or master of the tourney. We need not range the places of the rest, nor enumerate the good, the old, and the ip- iluential families, to whom conspicuous seats were assigned for the survey of the spectacle. Going without the barriers, we ap- proach the tents or pavilions of the knights who Were expected to engage in the several passages..at..ar~5 Here they were to dress and equip themselves; hither they were to retreat and rest when wearied, and take refreshment Each was sacred to its owner, and great care was taken by the pc~lice of the field that they were never trespassed upon by the crowd. In the rear of each pa~flion Was a tent or shelter of more common material, where the horse or horses of the cavalier were kept and groomed. t page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 102 VASC0NSELO$. Sc~me of the knights, as the wealthy Seijor Don Porc~ Figueroa, for example, had a score of horses; but the number, like our poor knights of Portugal, 'had a singh only. But he was generally a good one, of great strong endurance, and admirably trained. We pass, in review, ~ eral pavilions without the barriers, of the knights first men~ of Nuno de Tobar, of~ Balthazar de Gallegos, of Juan d~ lante, of Christopher de Spinola, and many others, each bears the especial shield and insignia of its proprietor. M~ ple than all the rest, made of crimson cotton, were the t the Portuguese brothers. It was remarked by curious ob that these tents were no longer pitched side by side; the now opposite each other, one on the right, the other on of the centre. The banner which floated above the. pay Philip, bore the image of a ruined castle, from which had spread its wings and was away. That of Andres e a flight of meteors in a stormy sky. Both were significa shields of the several cavaliers hung each at the entrauc tent, and in a situation favorable for that atteint, or strol adversary's spearblunt'or sharp, which was the customary conveying the challenge. At the opening of the passage were transferred to conspicuous places within the area. none of the knights, challengers, or defenders, were to by the multitude. Squires, leading horses, or pages about' the tents, alone were visible. It remains to men that the torril, or pen for the bulls, was constructed bei tiers of seats assigned to the common. people. Fro closed passage, the door opening right upon the area, directly to the ring. In the rear of the torril, pavil~ raised for the toreadores, picado2'es, chubs and matad cl~ss separately; and these pavilions engaged no gree of the curiosity of the people. From these pa looked for their most grateful enjoyments. They knev famous torero by name ; Cuba could boast of wht~ were worthy to compare with any of Andalusia,- 102 lode eater teed and Ii. sev- 3i ned: Esca- r hich r sun- ~ ts of rvers, y were t e left I on of falcon ibited .The of his of the ode of these { As yet e seen 1 itering Lion only i ath the this a inducted ~ s were es, eaC~I all der t es they he moat atador~S sons 193 her own mountains, who could administer the coitp de grace to the bull, while in his maddening bounds, and never exhibit an emotion. But of these hereafter. Drums roll, trumpets sound ;-a wild burst of Saracenic in sic rises from the amphitheatre; and the crowds rush forward to eek their places. The Adelantado, at the head of a gorgeous ca al- cade of knights, rides into the ring- Already have the n ble ladies, with their several escorts, taken their seats upon the le- vated gallery which has been assigned them. The people re fast filling up the humbler places around the barriers. De S to, amidst fresh bursts of music, ascends to his chair of state, on Balthazar seats himself below him. Both carry truncheons. e signals are given; the sports begin. A troop of young squi es and pages are running at the ring. The old soldiers and ex e- rienced cavaliers look on with the natural interest f Vetera 5; curious to see who are to be their successors in arm and dist~ c~ tion. The riding is very creditable; some instance particul ly graceful and spirited; though one or two hands e youth a e rolled over in the dust. The ring is borne off triumph ntly several times~; and this amusement ceases for a while. Then f llows ale~s~ experienced class of youth, who ride at the Quintain. The Qui{~i.. tam is a lay figure, armed with a pole, which is -freshly painter. 0 The stroke, to be successful and safe, must be delivered fairly4n the centre of his shield or helmet. To miss these, or to tou~h them unfairly, is to receive a blow from the pole of the figur~, who works upon a pivot, and is wheeled about by a inodera&~ assault. The stroke of his pole leaves its mark behind it. It nclt unfrequently tumbles the assailant from his steed,~ aird thus creases the merriment of the spectators. In England, the QuiA- tam SOThetimes carried a bag of meal at the end of his pole, whic in a false attei~t covered his awkward oppQnent with flour. On th present occasion, the fresh black paint of his weapon is a more sen ous danger to the garments and the Quintain leftjndelible proof of his ability, and their own awkwardness,, on the gaudy jacket of many of his inexperienced assailants These exercises, wl4c provoked a great deal of laught~r~ but d~d not much excite the 9 TILE QUINTAIN. 9 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 YASCONSELO~. spectators, were followed by a very pretty display of arche each of these performances there were, of course, champ be distinguished; prizes were accordingly delivered, and terest of the spectators was agreeably maintained to the But these were the mere preliminaries, the opening flour~ the entertainment; pleasant enough while they lasted; provocative, nor calculated to appeal to those passions wili a people to their feet, and force them to cry aloud their tions, or their fears. The runners at the ring and Quintain, sports of the archers, were simply the prologues to the cr entertainment of the day,-this was the Bull-Fight--the sports to the Spaniard, one in which all classes delight,- appeals equally to the sympathies and tastes of nobles ar mons, of knights and ladies, and which, strange as it ~ pear to us, is said in no degree to impair the sweetness, t~ and gentleness of nature in the tender sex. A few words, on this subject. When we denounce the hv of a people, who relish such an amusement, we commit the error of placing our tastes in judgment upon theirs. T~ is, that the question of humanity is really not involved the subject, even by our own standards. Our opinion superior to our humanity; and while society with us n~ am even course, we are thus critical in respect to its Let events occur which disturb the habitual course of. thi: oar opinion gives way as readily to our passions as thai people, and our moral sinks as low as our humanity. very much the same, in all countries, as respects the ai and we have in our exercises, equivalent brutalities to any people in the world. A boxing match will appeE tastes of all of British blood as readily as bull-fight match to those of the Spaniard; and a cock-fight, when an' draws as large a crowd. We hunt the deer with a sp as murderous as that which the Andalusian knows whe scends into the bull-ring with lance and rapier; and w with ~ur dogs after the fox nightly, with a. pleasure tin into a sort of madness, in proportion to the prolongatii ~. In ~s to ie in- 3iose. es of t not ~h lift Kulta- Ld the ~vning ort of which corn- ~y ap- grace vanity ~imple truth all in imply intains Lctices. ~s, and of any [en are ~etites hose of to the rkinfe )unced, it quite he de~ course b groWs iof the COMPARATflTE hUMANITY. 195 torturous sport. Opinion looks grave, and utters solem hu~ inanities, when she reads of Gordon Cumming's horrible b~tch~ eries of the elephant, lion, gazelle, and giraffe-...no~J~ creatures all, harmless where they are found-but passions and appe~ates -our human nature, gloats Over the murderous page; an~ we pass, with keen anxiety, in the footsteps of the 8porlsman, and hear with exultation the crack of his rifle, and rush in with d eyes of pleasure, to behold his vieVim, ere his ~dying agonies are over. We take the fish by artful processes, so as to prolong his struggles, so that our delights shall be prQlonged also; and we call the angler, "Gentle Master Jzaak," while he details the ~ev eral arts by which a worm may he made to wriggle, and a tr~ut may be made to play, in pain. Our natui~a1ists assert with won- drous pains-taking, their Own humanity, while they transfix ~he living butterfly; and opinion, with us, sanctions with this defini- tion, the indiscriminate slaughter of innocent song-bird, and be~iu- tiful fly, and wondrous insect,* and curious reptile. Yet none of these sports, which include all the cruelties which belong to the Spanishi bull-fight, involve the nobler conditions with which tue man engages in the latter. In the bull fight he makes his m~n- hood one of the conditions on which he wages the conflict. Pe perils life upon his sport. lie does not claim the right to t4e and torture the life of the animal without giving the beast a chance in the conflict. The inhumanity in all these practices is pretty much the same; but much more may be said in favor ~f the bull-fight than of all the rest. The stakes of th~ opposing parties are equal in the game. Our opinion, in brief; is more humane than our humanity. The Englishman and the AmericaA, man or woman, who once witnesses a bull-fight, discovers th~t his tastes are superior in strength to his mOrals~.that his virtue~ hold but little, sway in the encounter with his blood-that hi~ opinion is unsustained by his resolutior~that his owit habits are not a whit more heedful of the claims of the beast, than th~ Spaniard's. lie hunts one class, and the Spaniard another; and whether he hunts more virtuously than the Spaniard, must be hehi I IC I I page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 VASCONS~LOS. very doubtfUl where he does not. hunt half so bi~avely or much peril to himself. Qur purpose, however, in these remarks, is not to defen bull-fight as a legitimate o~ proper amusement of men. simply design to suggest to se1f~deception a little modest~ to persuade cant to reconsider its pretensions. Humanit where, is equal to the encounter with temptation. Opinion, where, is superior to humanity; and thus it is that the mo~ a community will be~superior to the sentiment in every mdi composing the community. Our opinion excuses our brut~ while it lays bare those of another nation. So long as 1 the common practice of n\~tions so long shall we petpetuat( Let us look to what is intrinsic, not what is specious, ~ shall, perhaps, discover that in a comparison with our ne we have no great deal to bQast-and something, possibly, I But enough. The bull-fight, as we have said, appeals equally to all tions, and to both. sexes, among the Spaniards. When the of the ring and the Quintain were over, and it was und that those which properly belonged to the amphitheatre ~ begin, there was great increase among the au~Iience. The all of them, deserted the hills. Scarce a vacant seat wa found in all the thl'\ee high tiers of scaffolding which surr the barriers; ~nd~he spectacle became very brilliant, w picturesque, of that great and crowded circle. Beat knighthood were there in all their glory; while the in exhibited every variety of costume and character. TI were so disposed that the entire persoii of the spectator i quarter could be seen; each according y was clad in the dresses he could command. Banners a dbannerets were cavaliers wore their gaudiest colors; ewels flashed in si connection with bright eyes that on could scarce dis -between them; and ever and anon, 1 ng streaming floir music, passionate phre~risies of vario sly endowed insti and soft, melancholy touches, at frequent pauses, from b so the We and~ no- ery- le of dual ities, is is both. dwe ;hbor lose. ~ondi- ports stood ~re to 'oups, to be ~nded ~ and y and titude seats every chest aving h near uguish ~hes of ments, simpler TILE TQREAJ~OR1~ 197 pipes, conspired to raise the emotions, to excite the sensibilities, to lead the hearer and spectator out entirely from that co1n±~on world which swallowed up his ordinary life in one dreary tony. In~)no- "Desp4fo I', was the single word given out by Don Bahhazar de Alvaro, as Corregidor, or master of cereinonAes~..equivalen~ to "clear the field" "remove all obstructions from the ain~hi.. theatre." There is sufficient reason for this order, which is always an un- gracious one in the ears of "the fancy," "the swell mob," who have generally taken possession of the ring. They leave it with reluctance. But, at the order of the C6rregidor, the splen~Iid body of infantry which De Soto had been training for the Flori- da expedition, marched in, tQ the sound of martial music, and, with horizontal lances, swiftly swept the circle. Their ino~ire~ ments were rapid; but the intruders retired slowly, sin~i ly clearing the barriers, around which they continued to cling, a - ious to be nigh the scene; to see the 'ninutest movements; a d to take such part in the affair themselves as fortune would all w them ;-their delight being found in beating the bull with th ir sticks, or thrusting at him with iron-pointed staves, from t s safe entrenchment whenever hi~ course should bring him s ficiently nigh the barriers. This duty done, the infantry disa - peared as rapidly as those whom they had driven out. But the nAg was not left vacant, for a moment. Theirplaces were soon occupied by the Toreadores consisting of bands of Picadores, of Chulo~r Banderillero8 and Matadore&. These nowinove inprocessionare~d the area, showing themselves to the spectators ;---the Pica in the saddle, armed with lances. They wear short cloaks, th~ sleeves of which are partly laid open and left loose. Their small.clothes are of leather, the legs coated with a sort of greaves of plate iron ;-shoes and stockings are concealed by white gaiters; and a flat, broad, round hat, well ribanded, com- pletes their costume, which is quite fanciful and jockey.like Not less so is that of men on foot, the Chulog, whose habits more costly, if not more imposing. Their silk vests are trimmed~ page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 VASCO~SELOS. with a profusion of ribands;~briUiaflt scarfs fall over thee silken net-work confines the hairy in place of which the fi1i of tl~e net stream down the shoulders. Their cloaks are, of blue, and others of scarlet. In two parties they cros arena, and' make their obeisance to the Adelantado. Th in all-the footmen-about eighteen. This includes a cou matadores, or killers. With these comes a mediespada, o swordsman, who is not often wanted. The picadores, or Ia three in number, follow them on horseback, in the perform of the act of grace before the representative of the throne ~The toreadores take their stations, and declare themsel readiness. First, you behold the picadores. These plant' I ~selves on one side of the gate from whence the bull is to e and at a distance of twenty-five or thirty paces. Those o armed with their short javelins, called banderillos, meant t and torture the bull, and for their defence, their cloaks o and scarlet, take their places also, ready to assist the pic. but along the barriers. A trumpet sounds; an Algua vanes, and receives from Don Balthazar the key of~the or den of the bull. The Adelantado waves his gilded trun DonBalth~azar waves another; the bugles sound; wild shou the multittide declare the acme of expectation to be reach gate of the torril is thrown open, a rush is heard; an .Aforo"-" the Moor"-the great black bull of the Cuban tains,-himself a mountainous mass of bone and muscle, headlong upoia the scene, and hushes all to silence. He stops suddenly; throwing up his head. He has from darkness into sudden light. The unwanted spectacle moment confounds him. He looks up; around; star~ dilating eye on all he sees; and then you may observe ~i rise, and wave, to and fro, the hairs starting up, like thos his neck, and presenting a ridgy surface, a crested mane, ing his excitement, and gradually rising anger. As y knows not where to look. ~On all sides, he sees so much! a tremendous shout from~ the multitude' seems to decide and he answers it with a wild and sudden roar. Then, qi TIlE BULL FIGHT. ~; a iges ~me the * are .e of half- cers, ance ~s in hem- erge, foot, goad blue lores, I ad- ~orril, aeon; from I, the "El noun- darts assed for a with .s tail upon show- et, he But, him; iick as 199 a flash, he charges upon the nearest picador. His lance is ready to receive him. He is repulsed; 'he recoils. But not far and with a fresh bound, he singles out his second enemy. He also meets him with a cool front, and a piercing weapon. A se ond time his neck is gored; but he darts up6n the third pica~ior; only to meet a fresh repulse! He has felt his enemy; and is either cowed or taught by his experience. Which? We hl~ He recoils from all, receding slowly: his eyes gleaming ~aow with fire; his neck and shoulders streaming with blood* his head to the ground, as if with a heretofore~unknown feeling of humi~ity. But do you think that h~is humbled? No! He is only roused, * -only contracting himself to spring; gathering his muscles into fold; gathering up his soul for newer effort, and growing mo- mently more and more vicious and dangerous from his forbear- ance! Some of the spectators are deceived; as half the world is apt to judge and decide from first impressions, and because9 of theip ignorance! . "A cow! a cow !" is the cry-~~!." set the dogs upon him !" "Ak! que! no vale i~a I" "The beast is worth nothing. He is a cow !'' "A coW, indeed !" tries the experienced mountaineer, who let~ ter knows the signs which the brute exhibits. "Di8parate I-. nonsense! Let me see the iran who will milk that cow!" He is right. "El Mo~'o" is a hero, and has sense as well as strength. He has felt his enemy; he begins to know him. picadores understand hinci better than the mob. They note is immense frame,-the great head,-the enormous breadth ~of neck,~the huge breast, life a rampart, which he spreads before them; the wonderful compactness of his whole figure. They ~ee the lurking devil in his dilating eyes, looking up, though his horns seem directed only to the ground. They note other signs which escape the populace, and they prepare themselves, with all their address, for a second assault. Their horses, which have~ heard the roar of the bull, are treinblingbeneath them. They do not see the animal, as they have been blinded, th~ better to make them submit to the rein; but they feel their terrors the page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 VASCONSELOS. more. They are not t~e broken haQkneys which are empi in the cities of modern Spain, not worth their forage ;-but r steeds, of fearless foresters, who have taken up the busine the' torero, con amore. Sleek of skin, large of frame, slend limb, with small heads, arching necks, bright, round, dil eyes, clean fetlocks! You see that they come of Arabian st and are not unworthy to carry fearless riders against the I They tremble, but they obey. The picador, meanwhile, c his well-chosen lance beneath his right arm. He keeps a eye upon his enemy. He' knows that he is to be expect that he must come ;-that the struggle has not well begu that it will require his utmost skill to conquer-and es He does nOt mistake the ominous* aspect in the sign of Ta 1 He has not read the Zodiac of the amphitheatre in vain. are all old stagers, these picadores. Each has a reputati lose. They are known .by name among the multitude, and names ~have been cried aloud, already, by more than a hu voices, in recognition and ~encouragement. "Bravo! P "Bravo! little Juan !" "Bravo! Francisco Dias !" " * shall we see which of you all will pluck ict devisa from the of El Ilforo." "La devisa" is a ribbon about the bidl's containing the name of his breeder. "Which of you ha~ a mistress with eyes worthy of a d Bravo! good fellows!' Let us see The allusion, here, is to the practice of the picador, object it is to snatch away the ribbon as a trophy for his heart. This is a great point gained; and a difficult one. Bull, who is well aware of the honor of the thing, is, of c always careful to resent, with particular malice, every I attempt upon the badge which proves his honorable bre It requires rare agility-which, in such a conflict, implies courage-~--to achieve the object. But the crowd is clamorous. They 'are impatient at the of "El Moro." They regard him as too lymphatic. shout to him their scorn, and some endeavor to assail him, behind th~ barriers, with strokes of the cl&ivata, or zxtrro, yed 'ave of i~ of ting eks, jull. ~ries rary I and ape! rus! 'hese )n to ~hese dred Now neck Qeck, ~ath ~ vhose weet- The )urse, such ding. rare delay They from sticks N EL MOirn. 201 terminating in knobs, with .which every rascal of the crowc~ goes properly armed to the circus. Their auxiliary assaults, in fact, are legitimate, and co~1stitute a fair part of the exhibition. They contribute greatly to goad a timid animal to the necessary degree of desperation, work him up to madness; when, no longer dreading the prick of the lance, though it buries itself an inch deep in the flesh, he plunges headlong upon his enemies, not to be again baffled in the assault, not to be turned aside; and throwing all his brute force into one concentrated effort, puts the picadores to all their arts for safety. "El Moro" is a bull of blood. He is a bull of discretion also. He has only paused to meditate in what manner to use his force against the skill of his enemies. He has concluded his plans; and, with a terrible snort, which ends in a i~'oar, he rushes again upon the picaclores. They meet him handsomely, their horses' heads a little turned on one side, their spears delivered dexterously, piercing the neck and shoulders of the beast. This is no pleasant* sort of salutation. It is apt to turn off ten bulls in the dozen. They all remember, with keep se~sibiities, the garrocka, or goad, by~ which the herdsmen have initiated them in the lessons of obedience. "El Moro" has not lost his sensibili- ties, or his memories; but "El Moro ' has a prescience which tells him that he is doomed; and that to feel the pricks too keenly now, is only to prolong his tortures. He, accordingly, ,resolves to "come up to the scratch" valiantly. Skulking, he perceives, will avail him nothing. He must die, and he will ~not die feebly. The spear-point is in his neck deep, deep; and the blood spirts high, and crimsons his great swart breast and shoul- ders. But he resolves not to feel his hurts. He does not swerve: he plunges headlong forward; head downward; horns .tossing and tail erect, and shaking to and fro like that .of the lion in his bound, or the serpent in his coil. "Bravo toro! Bravo El Mioro I" is the delighted roar of the multitude, as they witness his spirit. The horsemen turn about like 'lightning; the first darts aside, with excellent skill, and sweeps out of the track. 9* page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] THE BULL'S PROWESS. 202 VASCO ~SELOS. "Bravo, Pepe 1" cry the mob, as .they witness this dexter y of the first of the picadores; but the bull sweeps on; he rec ives the spear-point of the second of his foes; but his own irresi tible rush, his own headlong bulk, prevents his recoil now, even 'f his spirit quailed beneath the wound: but it does not. Th pi- cador tries to wheel and escape his assault, but too late: the horns of "El IMloro" .are already buried in the flank of the s eed; he rends his sides, snaps the defensive ribs like glass; stee and rider roll over upon the plain, the latter upon the off-side o the animal. The body of the horse constitutes his rampart or a moment. It is a fearful moment. Life and death hang n it. An awful hush envelops the amphitheatre; women s riek, men shout an~,d swear; heads peer over each othcr; eye are starting almost from their sockets; anxiety and appetite, fe r and hope, horror and delight, are in wondrous strife in the m ltitu- dinous soul of the assembly. IE~rery body looks to see th bull dash down upon the prostrate horse and ridex. The latte lies close and quiet, expecting the assault: his hope of escape is in his insignificLtnce. But "El Moro" is a bull of inagnanimi y--a heroic bull, worthy of the fierce and fearless race after* horn they have named him. He disdains to touch the fallen ctini. He spurns the sands.~anew; he dashes after the remaining pica- dores, who course round the amphitheatre, dexterously avoid~ g his charge, and seeking to double upon and wound him anew t ev-~ ery chance. Wonderful is the skill they exhibit, and great is the cheering which they receive. Both bull and picador rece ye it equally; nothing can be more fair than the applause; it is e ually merited: and gratitude for the sport alone requires that merit should be equally acknowledged. "Bravo toro I" "Bravo Pica- dor I" "Bravo Little Juan I" "Bravo Moro!', These and sirni- lar cries are heard from all quarters of the ring. But "El Moro" is not content to share his fame with thers, -he is greedy of glory. Another picador is overthrown; horse and man roll on the earth. Little Juan, who won the ravos lately, is scrambling over the barriers, partly assisted n the effort by the black brows of the bull himself-his hornsjus miss- 202 ing the haunches of the horseman, and grazing the barriers. It was a narrow escape. The horse of the picador flies wild, with his entrails hanging from a horrid wound in the belly. The bull pursues; at every bound he goads tinirblinded .and terrified ani- mal anew. Both are covered with blood. '%Mira I" c4es the "fancy "-the "swell mob" from the corridor,-." Mira! que bel cuerpo de .9angre!" "See! see! what a beauteous body of blood !" Thus goring as he goes, himself covered with gore, snorting with fury, his eyes like red fires, flashing in flight, his moi4h full of foam and blood, his head tossing wildly, the blood and lather covering his whole body, the bull keeps on his way of terror, ripping and rending the wounded and agonized horse, until, with a terrific roar and effort, he fairly lifts the victim from the ~arth, dashes him down upon the sands, an strikes his hoofs on his neck, as he bounds over him in pursuit of the remaining picador~ There is no parleying with so headstrong a brute as that. There. is no baffling him.. He is not to be deluded of his proper prey. He is not the fool to put nose to the ground, as ordinary bulls d6, wasti g his fury upon the enemies he has already over-. thrown. e fallen horse or horseman attracts none of his atten- tion. He sees and seeks him only who is on foot, in motion; and he gi es the surviving picador no respite. Never was bull 50 de ermined, and so sensible, lie is not merely a hero, he is a ge eral; and the audience is duly sensible of his woiider- ful merits. They shout their vivas on every hand. "Lon~*v live El 2ifioro!' he whom they have yet resolved shaLl die that very day. "B avo toro! Bravo Moor !" They toss their hands aloft; they fling p their caps; porros and chivatas thundc~r their ap- plauses ag inst the barriers. "El Moro" seems aware of their applause, a d resolute still better to deserve it. He gives the picador no moment of delay. lie is upon him. The steed doubles With wondrous dexterity, and eludes the shock; and he flow receives the vivas. But the bull is almost equally alert. His evolutions are as sudden as his rage is high. He wheels,-. another bound~ the lance of the picador but grazes him; the horse darts, away, but the bull is at ~his haunches, and rends him ~ll1 202 page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 vAscoistSELOS. -a terrible gash-ia the rear. Bleeding and torn, the s ced staggers forward, when a new thrust sends him over, and the r der flings himself off on ~the opposite side, to escape the invite ate assailant. It is a moment of extreme peril; every soul is hu lied * almost to stifling in the assembly; and now the chubs with t eir gaudy cloaks come fluttering upon the scene~ They are to li ert the bull from his victim. They glide between, almost like sh4j~s of air. The red shawls flare before the eyes of El Moro. ut El Moro is none of your common bulls. He is not to be er- suaded that the shawl can work him injury. He has no vu gar bull-hostility to crimson. He darts at the chub, and not his sh wi. The banderillo flies-a little dart, ornamented with colored and gilded paper-and sticks into his neck. Another is planted di- rectly opposite, buried deeply in the flesh. A third, a fo rth, until the beast is fairly covered with these proofs of tho de ter- ity of his new assailants, who trip along like dancing-masters abont the scene; relying upon their wonderful agility to art aside from his wild and passionate plunges. They scatter a his approach. He drives them to the barriers, over which the res- cued picador has just clambered with a show of pain and la or, that proves he has not gone through the fray unscathed. T ere Is a rent in his leather breeches; there is an exceedingly sore p ace beneath it. But the chubs are dispersed,-El Moro remains the lord of the arena. He stamps as if for a new enemy; he r ars as if. in triumph! He darts, seeing no moving object, at t 050 which lie still or writhing upon the plain. He tramples the ay mantles; he rends the prostrate and still struggling horse. Ho Is impatient that they offer no resistance; for the goads still ear his neck and sides, and the wounds are a ceaseless torture. he amphitheatre rings with applause of his, prowess; but this ub- sides, and the appetite of the multitude craves a renewal of the excitement. "Caballos! Cabaflos al toro!" is the cry. More horses are required for the bull. New, champions appear upon the sc~ne; and the battle is renewed. ~3ut we must not enter now u~on details; "El Moro" maintains his reputation. Another hor~e is THE MATADOR. 205 slain-a other wounded-two riders are hurt with broken ribs, and the c ubos again scatter themselves over the area for the res- cue of th third. "El Moro" scatters them in turn: but he is exhaust by his victories. Covered with wounds, he staggers in the centr of the ring. His eye grows filmy, his head droops, his tail- ut he is thus far the conqueror, and there is a moment of silent admiration in tribute to his prowess. But the signs show that he can make no more sport. He has done all that bull could do or the popular holiday; and nothing remains but to administer the coup de grace, and bring on his successors. The trumpet s unds. The matador-the killer-appears alone upon the scene. On his appearance, with lifted cap, he make his 6bei- sance to t e Adelantado. In his right hand he holds a long toledo -a beauty ul rapier, of the best temper-in his left hand he waves a little red flag, not much larger than a handkerchief; called the muleta. e receives the permission which he requires. . "El Moro's" eath-warrant is given out. The mat dor exhibits the grace of a posture-master, with all the coolness of the executioner. He turns towards the victim, and advance s slowly. He is pale; looks anxious; is evidently wary. W 11 he may be. Such an adversary, showing as much cunning as courage, is not often to be met. The matador stops, and with al the coolness of which he is capable, surveys the foe. He is a jud e of character, and bulls have a character that re- quires to b studied. Antonio Pico also has a character at stake. He is greatly renowned among the Cubans. He has slain his hundreds, a d he must show himself worthy of his renown. His movements ere at once graceful and decided; and, his thrusts were as swi as dexterous. He was the master of his art. sometimes, t e master fails, and Pico was now evidently cautious. It is a duel hich he is about to fight. The bull is still danger- ous-his rag is still deadly. He has lost- his energy, but not his malice. ico has no shield, nothing but the muleta, and his beautiful ra ier. His ball dress of silk, satin and ribbon, is at strange varia ce with the duty to be done; but that is one of the charming Pea ures of the performance. He commands himself; page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 208 -. YASCONSELOS. restrains himself; a thousand eyes are upon him; he knots it, but he sees nothing but the eyes of the bull. Their tame, f lmY expression does not deceive him. He fancies that "El M9ro understands the whole proceeding, what is to be done, and ~hat is to ~be feared; and tihat he is preparing himself with more ~han hull subtlety, to make a fearful fight of it. It must be sub1~lety now, opposed to subtlety ;-the wisdom of the man to the excit- ed instincts of the beast. The expectation is, that the bull will run at the red flag; when the matador will receive him at the point of the weapon, which pierces him between the shoulder and the~ bone blade. If the bull has much spirit left, he will d6 this. The presumption is, if he will not, that he succumbs to his fate- that his energies are exhausted. Pico waves his muleta in front of the animal. "El Moro" makes a single charge, but recoils--stops short, and stands with head down, as if in waiting. A shout of contempt, from the "fancy," assails him for this ignoble conduct. It encourages Pi- co. He advances, waves the flag anew; again the bull charges; the steel flashes, quick as lightning ;-strikes ;-strikes ;-all see;- but it is an awkward stroke! Pico's nerves have been troubled. The steel strikes the bone ;-it flies from the hand of the matador; and, with a roar, the recovering bull is upon him, with a dreadful guiding sweep. The brave fellow darts aside, but not unhurt. He staggers,-he makes for the barriers: the cunning "El Moro," with brightening eye, surges after him. The suspense is awful; the women scream; the men shout; the matador staggers forward to the barriers; falls, without catching them; and, but a moment-remains for escape! a terrible anxiety prevails. In that moment, a gigantic form leaps over the barriers from the corri- dor, He is dark like the red man. He is of that ra~~e~ mixed with the white and the negro,-a most unnatural and atrocious combination. But what he is, no one as yet can distinguish. They see nothing clearly. They only know that he stands be- tween the fallen P~co - and the charging El Moro. They see a common red ker~hief waving in one hand. They see not the short, sharp ki~ife in the other. They see, however, that he has succe trate mat aiiimal si aside like bull, and and thrust lently. I tween the the nostri go e fore~ ins ant bef he cro~ "sx ell mo fea of arm wa the de a w sper t "Let tha it b done upo his f up. lie is Morillo-si mountains f good rewar~ The serg~ amphitheatr, the throng. NOTE.~FOr the Spanish ai and the higbl countryman, ~i TIfli~ END OF EL MORO. 207 3ded in diverting the wrath of' the bull, from the pros.. ador, to himself. A moment more, and the plunging ands where the stranger challenged. JTe has darted an arrow, leaving his kerchief upon the horns of the waving before his eyes. The animal shakes his iiead, s it Lown. In that moment the stranger advances si- flash is seen; and the machete is fatally buried be- sh6ulders of El Moro. A hoarse sound issues from .s of the mighty beast, and he sinks forward, the life ~er, on the spot where he had stood terribly, but the re! vd is relieved. They shout their gratification, and the "' without are particularly rejoiced with the exquisite s performed by one from among themselves. Scarcely 3d done, however, when Don Balthazar de Alvaro, in the sergeant of the guard, said,- t man who slew the bull be taken into custody. Let secretly, so as not to cause confusion. Set a watch 'otsteps, and when the crowd is dispersed, clap him a slave.-an outlaw-the notorious outlaw, Mateo we of the estate of my niece, lie has been in the )r two years. See that you secure him. There is a I to be got by his captivity!" ant promised obedience; but when he looked into the ~, the man, Mateo Morillo, had disappeared amoiig He sought for. him that day in vain. much of the detail in this chapter respecting the sports of iphitheatre, I am indebted to the volumes of Roscoe, Ford, r interesting and spirited sketches of Spain by our o~n r. S. T. Wallis, of Maryland. page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] "The kni~ Spurri 'Gan fai Soone That, da Their~ And eke Astoni Doe bacJ THE day's sports "El Mono." Othe eral fierce fights fc casualties. No less over; and twice th ously hurt. Thre4 toreadores went off- so that, all things c to the people. Tht ters of the city. ~ the reception of g~ come. The' volupti feast, and were pro mental music burst tinkled sweetly in Alvaro spent the entertained a targi invited, was not an not present? Th( sciously asked her and gloomy; but h 2Q8 CHAPTER XVI. lit of the Redcrosse, when him he spide, so hote with rage dispiteous, ely couch his speare, and towards ride: rneete they both, both fell and furious, inted with their forces hideous, teeds doe stagger, and amazed stand; themselves, too rudely rigorous, ~d with the stroke of their owne hand, ~e rebutted, and each to other yealdeth 1and."-SIT~SEII. were by no means ended with the death of r bulls were brought into the ring, and sev- ilowed, marked by sundry vicissitudes and than six bulls perished before the day was Ls number of horses were more or less sen. were killed ~utright. As many of the -were carried ofl rather-with shattered ribs; nsidered, the sports were highly satisfactory t night there was merry-making in all quar- 'he houses everywhere were thrown open for ests. The country cousins were made wel- tous dances of the Spaniard succeeded to the longed through the night. Wild and senti. from balcony and verandah, an~ the guitar ~he groves of lime and orange. Olivia de night in the palace of the Adelantado; who party. But Philip de Vasconselos, though iong the guests. Where is he? Why is he se were the questions which Olivia uncon- self. Andres, his brother, was there; stern did not approach her. She danced and sang at the ei but her I went thr longing t pany, and We have sons or e the day gress. The sp in its splen indeed, if a: furnish atti of the bull. quent loss great sufl~ri citement. agony, were only apictu~ the heralds ~ grace, spirit, failed, usually terized the c are not to b pensive one. to peril their value, to be c rm bull-fight for these reas( this amuseme and the "5WE with the (to th With the fij shield and gliti log burst of m resump~on of T1L1~ SECQ~~ DAY'S SPORTS. 20f? treaty, or rather the command, of the Lady Isabella; ieart was neither with the music nor the dance. She ugh the performances mechanically sick at soul, and be away out of the painful glare of lights and corn.. buried in the deep shadows of her domestic groves. no scene to exhibit, no picture to portray of the per- ents of this night. We hurry to the performances of blowing, which more immediately concern our pro.. Itacle of the second day promised to exceed the first, or and state, if not in its attractions. It is doubtful, y exhibition, short of battle itself; could, in that day, actions to the Spanish people to compare with those fight. This was a strife of certain danger and fre.. f life. There must be bloodshed; terrible wounds, ig, prolonged agonies, and momently increasing. ex- n proportion to the anxiety, the peril, the blood and the joys of the sjj~ectacle. But the tournament was e of strife; gentle passages of arms and joyous, as described it; and, though full of noble displays, of strength, skill and admirable horsemanship, it yet to provoke those intense anxieties which charac.. conflict of the bull with the toreadores But bulls slaughtered every day. The operation is an ex- ~he owners of fine horses do not very often wish ribs in the circus; and even the sorry hack has his considered after the first flush of excitement is over. though the great passion of the Spaniards, i~ not, ns, an affair of frequent occurrence. One d~y for t was held quite sufficient for reasonable people; 11 mob'~ wer~ accordingly compelled to putt up em) inferior spectacle of deeds of chivalry. St flashings of the morning sunlight upon bright ering lance, a sweet, wild, prolonged and inspirit.. sic issued from the amphitheatre, announcing the the sports. A thousand bosoms thrilled with page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] I 210 YASCONSELOS. delight, and a thousand voices hailed the signal with triumphant shouts. The sound~ and clamors from the spacious area were echoed back from ~all the little hills around. They were all in motion at ~the music, and clapping th~Ar hands with joy. Soon, the fierce bray of lihe trumpet was heard mingling wildly with sweetei' music. '~on came the roll of the drum; and steeds neighed, and squires shouted, and the mountain peasant began i~o sing, in his exulting unconsciousness, the rude ballads of his distant forests. TIi~ere was shouting and clamor on every side; ~and the rushing o~ crowds, and the din of conflicting sounds, might have led the unadvised spectator to suppose that chaos had come again, sc~ extreme was the confusion. But in all this confusion the truncheon of command prevailed. So well had everything been organized by Don Balthazar de Alvaro, and so native were such exercises to the multitude, that no conflict or disorder followed, where all things appeared to promise nothing less. The people knew their places; the officials their business. The heralds, and pi~rsuivants, and alguazils were all in sufficient number and sufficiently active. But, where the popular consent is with the given purpose, it is surprising how multitudes work together to the common end. The officers skirted the harriers within as well as without, and kept them free from encroach- ment; and, gradually, the throngs, pressing forward like crowd. ing billows of the sea, subsided calmly into their places along the galleries. The seats were filled as if by magic. The family groups, or special j~arties, each unobstructed in its wish to keep together, formed so many little domestic circles along the im- mensely crowded jiers; and the hum and buzz of conversation, free and unembarrassed as in private homes, went on. The merry laugh, and the smart jest, and the careless comment, were uttered aloud, as 4f none but friendly hearers were at hand to listen. It is a common error that the Spaniard is inflexible as well as proud. This is only true of a high state of. convention in the old comnwnities. In the new world, where all were adventurers, even nobility threw off some of its reserves, and accommodated itself to a more democratic condition of things ;- THE SPECTATORS. 211 a result, Indeed, inevitable from the necessities of the region. But to our pr~gress. Suddei~ly, the bands struck up the national air, and thi~ was the signal for the approach and entrance of the Adelantado, the noble knights and ladies who immediately attended ~him and his lovely rife, and such favorites as Were specially invited to the more eley ted platform which was assigned to the represent~ tive of majesty. This platform, it may be well to state, though elevated above the lower ranges of the seats assigned to the mul- titude, wa~ yet somewhat nearer to the circus. It was immedi: ately above the corridor, which, in all other parts of the area, was uncovered. Indeed, it seemed to hang almost Over the lists, and was not so high but that it might be easily touched by a lance in the hands of a knight on horseback. Along this platform, and in the foreground, on well and richly cushioned seats, the ladies were seated, 0C91.lpying preferred places; the gallants in attendance taking position in the rear. In the centre of this former range, sate Don Balthazar de Alvaro, acting as warder; and immediately behind, but on a dais above him, occupying a richly garmented fauteui4 sate the Adelantado and his lady. With the entrance of the two last, the viva3 became wilder than the music, and De Soto bowed impressively and gracefully, to the popular applause. His noble form and princely carriage, the splendor of his costume, and a proper regard to the immense amount of patronage which he had brought to the island, made him a wonderful favorite. Nor was his noble wife less so. She had virtues, indeed, superior to his, though of a less showy char- acter; and her personal beauty, her noble carriages the richness and exquisite taste of her dress, the equal. grace and dignity of her bearing, served to make her an object of like and equal at.~ traction with her lord. They took their seats, and the example Was followed by those who accompanied them. When the places were all filled, the spectacle was one of wonderful bril~ liancy and beauty. ,The seats were SO constructed as to showy most of the persons of those who occupied the front, and, these Were all naturally solicitous to appear in their richest habits, 211 page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 VA~CON~ELOS. Olivia de Alvaro o~~cupied one of these foremost seats, near her uncle, and a little below, but quite close to, the Lady babella. She too was splend~dly habited; but she was perhaps the least conscious of' the fact of all in that as'~embly. She had made her toilet with little heart for it, and little heed to appearances. Her thoughts were of the saddest; and 'her face now was pale as death. There was a brightness, however, in her eye, of sin- gular wildness, and occasionally it flashed out with a vivid and peculiar intelligence. But she seldom trusted herself to gaze about the amphitheatre. She seemed to dread the encounter with other eyes. Beside her sate the frail, fair beauty, the wife of Nuno de Tobar, whose little tongue kept up a surprising dis- charge of small arms, without intermission. He~ supply of missiles seemed inexhaustible, and as they were mostly addressed to the ears of Olivia itis not a matter of wonder if she had nothing to say in return. ~The lack of opportunity, indeed, was rather grateful than otherwise. It saved her from all necessity of find- ing apologies for her\ taciturnity. Behind Olivia stood the pro. vincial courtier, Don Augustin de Sinolar, redolent of perfume, and diffuse and gay in silks and glitter. There were other gal- lants in waiting: but we must not stop to enumerate. The anxiety of the multitude has brought them to that .hush of ex- pectation which, e'~en more than militaryy authority, is the best security for order. Th~ Adelantado, like every good actor, well understood the impropriety of keeping the stage waiting. He rose gracefully and waved his truncheon. At the signal, a sud- den blare from the trumpets, at the entrance, quickened the pul- sation in every bo~om. The blast was' answered from a dozen quarters all around, the response from the tents of the challengers to the signal which required them to appear. But a few mo- ments more elapsed when the trumpets within and without pealed in unison ~ a lively and prolonged strain of wild and chee~fal music; and then was heard the heavy trappings of am ~ proa~hing horse. " '~?hey come! They come !" was the involuntary cry from a thousand lately stifled voices. Then the heralds and pursuivants VASCO DE PORCALLOS. 213 slowly cantered into the lists, skirting closely the barriers; and when expectation was at the highest, the challengers, six in num.. ber, made their appearance. And, truth to speak, they showed themselvc~sright comely chevalier to the eye, and seemed well able to C rry themselves bravely and keep manfully the field. They wer headed, as was fitting, by the Lieutenant General of the army, the stout and wealthy Ilidalgo, Don Vasco Porcallos de Figuer a. This cavalier, whatever may have been his per- sonal mer ts, was perhaps rather more indebted to hi&~wealth for the di tinction he enjoyed, than to his genius as a soldier. We do no know that, up to this period, he had ever made any remarkable figure in arms. He certainly had, thus far, taken no such place in the popular imagination as was assigned to sundry of their famous men, who had proved even unfortunate~such as Alonzo de Ojeda, and many others. But wealth, with frequent largesse, a right generous spirit, and a gracious carriage, .will work wonders towards achieving temporary distinction. The reader may not have forgotten the policy of the Adelantado, already indicated, by which he was moved to depose the amorous knight, Nuno de Tobar, from the office which *he subsequently conferred on Vasco de Porc lbs. W~ are not prepared to say that he re- joiced in the prete t which enabled him to do so. But, i1 was one certainly whic he did not greatly regret. He was not dis- pleased at having he means wherewith to buy the favors of the rich cavalier. An Vasco Por~allos did not defraudd expectation. lie did not withho d his treasures from the expedition to Florida. His castellanos wer freely rendered to tl~e wants of his superior, with whose ambiti us views no man oP the army seemed so deeply to sympathy e. Vasco Porcallos was seized with a new- born desire for fa e, without foregoing a jot of ~his old passion for acquisition. H was anxious to be known, hereafter, as one of the conquerors t Florida; and, at the same time, he made sundry ~shrewd cal ulations of the profit which would ensue from his landed e tates in Cuba, by concentrating upon then~ the labor of the palachian savages whom he expected to make captive in h s progress. The two passions, glory and page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 0 214 VASCONSELOS. gain,' strove equally together in his bosom; and, with such rare harmony, that neitl~er could be said to be, at any time, in the as- cendant. Vasco Porcallos was of a brave temper; and, though never distinguished in war, as a captain, had yet e~ijoyed consid- erable experience in the new world's conquests. Had he been a few years younger, he might still have hoped great things from his gallant spirit and generous ambition: But our cavalier was oi~i the wrong side of fifty, and few soldiers have ever acquired reputation, or achieved successes in foreign invasion, after they have passed the meridian line of life. It may be reasonably doubted, if his prudence was at all conspicuous in his engaging in a long and hazardQus expe~lition. That he would endure well enough the toils of a single campaign , was not questioned even among those who were jealous of his wealth and great appoiiit- ments; and still l9ss was it doubted that he would carry himself well in such passages of arms as it should fortune him to en- * counter. He was acknowledged to b& a good lance and ~a prop- er horseman, and as now he appeared iivthe amphitheatre, portly o( figure, tall, erect, covered with shining armor, riding a splendid bay, whose form ~nd color were equally free of blemish-for the white spot, of crescent shape, conspicuous in the centre of the horse's forehead, was held to be a beauty and not a blemish -the loud shout of applause which welcomed him, seemed to give assurance of the 'popular confidence in his prowess. His steed was gayly caparisoned with his master's favorite colors, green and gold, and his ~own bearing seemed to exhibit a full con- sciousness of the distinction he enjoyed, in carrying so brave a rider. The portly knight bestrode him with an air and spirit worthy of so gallant an animal; and, as he pricked him forward with the formidable Spanish rowel and made him caracole to the balcony, where sate the Adelantado and his noble companions of the fair sex, the populace, again shouted their unsuppressible admiration. Vasco Porcallos wore a brilliant armor, which be~ trayed never a stains of the soil. A rich surcoat of green silk (afterwards thrown dif) hung somewhat loosely above his armor, whieh was of polished steel, fretted in figures of gold and silver, ]3A.LTIIAZAR DE GALLEGOS. 215 vines and flower appearing in the sort of jeweler's work which' is known as van gated gold. ,His helmet was of like material and ornament, su mounted with a bunch of beautiful and costly plumes of the he on. The small shield which he carried lightly upon his left arm was of steel also, inlaid with a circular bor- dering of gold, 0 vines and flowers, in the centre of which, splendidly illumin ted, was the armorial ensign of the knight- a bright, keen eye looking out from a sun of blazing gold. The arrogant motto s oke sufficiently for the insolent ambition of the cavalier. 8 mio lo que veo !"-(" That is mine which I se& !") But this confidence vexed no self-esteem in all the assembly. It was but the embodiment of the national conceit, and it was perha s warranted by the fact. They had made their own all that hey had seen. It was an encouragement to valor and ~enterprise, that the nation should thus believe, that there was nothing, in reserve, which its warriors could not, in like manner, mak their own. The faith makes the victory. Vasco Porcallos, k own by his largesse much more than by his valor, was readily assumed to possess a spirit and capacity worthy of his bou ty; and his 'graceful obeisance before the dai8 upon which H man de Soto sate, was congratulated by the repeated viva8 of th multitude, and acknowledged by the gracious smile and courtesy f the Adelantado. Backing his steed with an elegant and mea ured, yet free motion, Don Vasco gave way to his brother chall ngers to come forward. He was followed by Balthazar de Gallegos, a stout and gal- lant adventurer; w o, without being quite so matured by time as Vasco Porcallos, ad, perhaps, seen quite as much service in Indian warfare. Hi carriage was good, and his skill and grace in managing his stee were quite equal to those of his predeces~ sor; but there was lamentable disparity in their equipment. The horse was a fine one, big-limbed, yet of lively motion; but his furniture was rus y; and the armor of the rider was distin- guished equally by he antiquity of its appearance, and the numerous dints of ba tle which it showed. E~ven the slight dec.- orations which Balth am de Gallegos employed in honor of the page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 VAS~ONSELOS. occasion,-consisting of gaudy scarf and various colored shoulder knots and ribbons, served rather to expose than to relieve the defects and decayed places in his rusty harness. His shield was large and cumbrous, but carried lightly on his muscular arm. It was of a faded blue ground, on which was painted a volcanic mountain in eruption, the jets of fire ascending without falling- the motto indicative of a thoroughly Spanish ambition-" Mias bjen consumir que no exalta~rme!"-(" Rather burn than not rise!") A few cheers followed the appearance of this cavalier; but they sounded very coldly and meanly, succeeding those which had honored the man of fortune; and after making his obeisance, Balthazar de Gallegos, dr~w his steed into the background, as if satisfied that his mountain would burn rather unprofitable at the present moment. Vei~y different was the welcome which hailed the appearance of the third challenger. This was our old acquaintance, the amo- rous young cavalier, Nuno de Tobar. Nuno was a favorite with all classes, poor and rich, men no less than women. His known gi'ace and bravery,-his frank carriage, easy, accessible, playful manner,-the generosity of his heart,-the unaffected simplicity of his natuie,-all combined to secure for him the, most sweet voices of the multitude. These became clamorous as the spec- tators beheld the elegance and excellence with which he man- aged the iron-gray charger which he bestrode-the dexterity with which he led him, caracoling, almost waltzing, around the lists, to the foot of the gallery where the Adelan4TLdo, presided. The steed himself was one to delight the eye of all who beheld him,- his symmetrical outline, his fiery grace, and the perfect obedi- ence which he displayed, even wheiv his spirit seemed eager to burst from the bondage of his own frame. The armor of Nuno de Tobar was bright and polished. He had taken some lessons on this subject from the Portuguese brothers, whom he aimed to rival. It was not rich, like that of Vasco de Porcallos, nor in such good taste. In truth, it must be admitted that the tastes of Nuno were inclined to be gaudy. The decorations of his armor, due probably as much to his gay young wife, as to his own tastes, were than a cavalier. permitted to exci tastes of a knight ment allowed his The spectators bel of his heart, thp st~ his horsemanship; with their clamor their welcomes, W swarming buzz of knight exhibited a ( shield, we should drifting at sea, wit. sea is my port,) co Spanish enterprise 0: made a laudable sho~ Tob'ar reined his st( Baithazar do Gallegc of' challenger~. He was followed 1 pher de Spinola, Gc twenty..one, but of flu and iMlateo de Aces largest in frame of a] foot or mounted, his easy for him to tower prowess were not iinx~ of' movement apathe failed in any of the du havior was such alwa~ his superiors lie ro hin~selg that had a rep be ~f direct Barbary or however, subsequently of the frequent and wa: 10 MATEO Th~ AC1~YTUXO 217 a kind to suit the costume of a damsel rather But liveliness and gallantry in youth ~iirill be iso the offence of foppishness; and, where the showed themselves doubtfully, a gentle judg- other personal qualities to repair the defect. old nothing but his graces, the known kindness 'ength of his arm, the spirit and the beauty of and, while the men made the welkin ring ~t his appearance, the damsels responded to a pretty effort at clapping hands, and a approving voices; for all which, our young [ue measure of the most grateful smiles. His mention, bore the representation of a ship 1 the motto, "El mar es mi Iceived very much in the spirit of all the ~.that day. Having finished his obeisance, and ring of his person and horsemanship Nuno do backwards, and took his position beside being the third of the knights on the list )y three cavaliers of good re 'nzalo Sylvestre, (a youth ii 10 figure, excellent skill and g tuno, a brave knight, who 1 the cavaliers in the army. gigantic stature, like that of above all his associates lE orthy of his SIZe. Though so ~ic, and not easily aroused, I ties which were assigned him s as to secure for±im the ap Ic a famous steed, named Ac station of its own. He wa~ gin, and greatly valued by his presented him to Do Soto, in 'mly expressed admiration o ~ute: Christo )t more than reat courage,) was also the Whether on Saul, made it ~ ~ and rn ewhat slow 10 yet never and his be- probation of ~ytuno, after claimed to owner, who, ~onsequen~ - the latter page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 VASCONSELOS. Aceytuno was a brilliant animal; ha color something between a sorrel and a bay, but of a blood so rich that it seemed rather to diffuse itself everywhere beneath the skin, through which it shone like a purple dye, than to pursue its bounded course through the ordinary channel of vein and artery. Each of these knights had his motto and coat-of-arms. The shield of Christopher de Spinola carried a pair of huge wings, under which was written, "A solas me sostingo," (Alone I sustain myself;) not a bad image for a modest bachelor, who had neither wife nor children, and was not required to feed the orphans of any of his neighbors. That of the gallant youth, Gonzalo Syl. vestre, would be regarded in our day as something impious, even for a-lover, who is supposed to be excusable, by reason of the amiable insanity under which he labors, for any infidelity except that to his mistress. His shield represented the face of a very beautiful woman, and the motto, "Sin vos, y sin Dios y mi,'7 (With- out thee I am without God and without myself;) was considered by all the young damsels present as the most felicitous of all sweet sayings, to which, whatever might be the objections of the Deity himself; the Blessed Virgin ought by no manner of reason to object at all. The figure upon the shield of Don Mateo de Aceytuno was confined to his profession of arms. A mailed hand grasps a lance; the device was, "No hay otro vinculo que el 7&uestro," (" There is no bond of union but ours,"-or, as under. D stood, if not expressed-" we part all bonds but our own.") Mateo de Aceytuno completed the number of the challengers. They now rode together round the lists, prepared to undertake all comers. The first pa sages were tQ be with the lance; to be followed by the battle-a e or sword, according to the~ pleasure of the contending parti ; and the breaking of the lance, the blow fairly delivered wi out defence offered, of the battle-axe; or the sword wrested fr m the gripe of one or other of the com- batants, in the struggle, was understood to be conclusive of the combat in each c~se, and sufficient for the victory. By this time expectation was at the highest point of excitation in the assembly. The galleries were all filled with spectators; the corridor gird the superior seat dor. Even alor natives might b to catch more th~ interest upon the Meanwhile, the e the forms of the the heralds kept t immemorially pre lug them to brave "Bright eyes !" "bright eyes for tI the honor of brig] lovers may take hc ladies of your hear and thrice a trump~ Then blared the burst in mighty gus sic, which the Wisi~ Spaniard from both- excited pulses of tI delight; by sudden encouragement. The effect of all tl~ challengers than up favorite of mammoj keep his seat, 50 eag sounds and murmur, assembly, to whose I was the effect thus St. de Tobar did not fail of the scarf of his ne must be confessed tha fairy circle, with quite tiful, but frail, Leonor; TIlE CHALLENGERS ~ ed densely with the most r4 r shone, without vacancy, wit1~ the surrounding hills, grot seen looking on and listen n a glimpse of events, and d expression of emotions anloi ~es of the knightsehallenger5 fair ladies in the galleries. 'em constantly reminded by 1 ~erved by the heralds of chi deeds for the reward of lovit was the quaint form of th4 blessing of brave lances! it eyes! Smile, fair ladies, art! Do brave deeds, noble ~s may smile! a trumpet for t for the honor of bright eye; lively bugles in full blast t~ ~es the full torrents of the wi ~o th had borrowed from the -drums, and flutes, and cymb~ .e spectators were relieved I 'ies of exultationby shouts is was not less remarkable up )n the crowd. The enthus i, Don Yasco de Porcallos, erly did his ears drink in ti ~, so fondly did his eyes tra~ 'right glances he was bade t emulating in his respect alone. to note the perpetual waving ivly-made and dutifully4ovin~ his eyes requited other spec as devout a regard as he paid L de Bobadilla. The young k 219 ~ckless and eager; beauty and splen- ps of the simple ig, though unable pending for their tg those who saw. sought natuI~.ally Of these, indeed, heir cries,~cries ralry.~~encourag g smiles. apostrophe ;.......... Brave lances for that your noble lovers, that the brave lances !-. gatherr Then [d barbaric mu- Moor, and the ir~ :-.-whjle the 'y murmurs of f applause and on the knights [astic veteran, ~ould scarcely te stimulating rerse that fair ) look. Nor Don N~no towards him wife; but it 3ators in that to the beau~ Tiights, Chris- page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 VASoo~SELO~. topher de Spinola and Gonzalo de Sylvestre, were not less heed- Liii of charms to which they might more properly assert their claims; and, despite his rough exterior, Baithazar de Gallegos showed himself as eager of the notice of the ladies as any of the rest. Of whom, indeed, does not beauty, when it smiles, make the fool ~ The roug~a soldier, seasoned to ill usage and strife, callous to blows, and sworn to plunder, was quite as solicitous of the approval of bright eyes, as the young gallant just about to undertake his devoir to secure his spurs of knighthood. But a rougher parley awaits all the parties. The Adelantado gives the signal for i~he~ assailants to appear. Don Balthazar de Alvaro waves his truncheon; the heralds shout, the trumpets sound, and the trappings of horse again are heard. Soon, the six assailing cavaliers begin to pass into the amphitheatre. We shall be excused from such details, in respect to these, as we have given of th~ challengers, and for obvious reasons. They do not concern the a4ual business of this true chronicle, and enough ha~ been shown~to afford a general idea of the habits, manner~, and characteristics f' the times. We shall, accordingly, confinq ourselves, hereafter, to such persons only as belong to our dra- U matis personae. Of the six assail nts, then, we are required to report that Don Philip de Va onselos ranked oi~ly as the fifth. His own modesty gav~ him his position. He might have led the party, had it pleased him ~to do so. But he preferred simply to take his place as one of s~veral. His brother Andres was not of either party; but this, it must be remembered, did not affect his claims to take the field agfrmnst all, or any, of those who might remain the conquerors. Philip was mou~ited upon a coal-black steed of famous nur- tui~; large of frai~ne, strong of muscle, fleet of foot, hardy to endure, and of a beautiful symmetry. It was a pleasure to be. hold his form, simj~ly as he stood, without motion, obedient to the rein. His eye~ flashed fire as - he darted into the ring, and heard the mingled cries and clamors from a hundred trumpets, and a thousand vc~ices. Though docile as a lamb, his forefoot pawed the earth and his breast hE cordage, as if an the firm hand of calmly did Philij his obeisance with stature, to the Ac to show either his with a graceful, bu lip~ was very fain of the noble ladj cheeringly, while Ii character and heari not forgive the del adventurer; and t treatment of the kn but too frequently further obeisance, T place in the lists-.- burly form of the gi We must not for~ a beautiful, but plab It was very brightly ornament This sul place of it one of cot been found better del the vaunted armor 0; was surmounted by as the raven's. His the centre of which r ruined tower, from above it,-..the device (Having the wing, I sion fo his homeless which enabled him t favor, no gaud, no rib PHILIP IN TIiE~ ISTS. impatiently, as if em bus aved, like a rocking s ip, tha ~dous to break away upon the rider was the a chor t de Vasconselos appr ach ti lifted lance, and gra~efQl b4 elantado. There was no ci riding or his bearing. De ~ t not a cordial salutation. T t and cold; very different, i his wife, who curtsied frar er eye declared her honest ~ ng of the knight of P6rtugal. action from his ranks of so Enough very impolitic to dis ights, ~he was one of those mc escape the fetters of their ~ 'hilip closed his visor, and r4 a place which brought him gantic Mateo de Aceytuno. ~et to mention that his persc suit of chain armor, of the polished, and as free of spot t he did not wear in Indiai ton, well wadded, which, stra 'ence against the arrows of thc the knights of Christendom single plume, long and way shield was a series of circus~ eveal d his crest and device,- vThch falcon was about to in L tin: "Volucri non opz c ion er need the nest,).-a fortunes, and to the indeper ) Soar above them. He w Ion; but with uniform costur 221 C the laurels also, strains upon the 1~e billows. But o his will. Very .e dais, and make ~nd of his mailed rvetting, no aim oto received him ie smile upon his rideed, from that kly, and smiled admiration of the De Soto could experienced an ~riniinate in the ~r whose feelings ~olicy. With a de back to his o confront the n was cased in purest fashion.. or defect as of battle, but in ge to say, had red man, than Ijis helmet ng, and black steel plates, the figure, a fly, hovering s est nido ".-. uflicient alhu- ent courage re no lady's e, there was page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 22~~ VASCONSEtOS. a sort of sombre nobleness in his aspect that compelled respect- ful attention. His kiiown prowess, honored by those who were jealous of his nation, increased the admiration of those who sur- veyed his form and w4tche~\l his movements. Of these he reeked little, and perhaps saw nothing; but there were eyes in that great assembly whor~i it thrilled his bosom to feel were behold- ing him also. In the brief moment of communion with the gal- lery, where sate the ~randees of th~ island and their families, his glance had encountei~ed with that of Olivia de Alvaro. ~he had strive~i greatly to av~Ad the single look which she gave him, but a terrible fascinatioi~ forced her eyes upon him. His grew brighter and proud~ at the grateful encounter, and he did not perceive that hers su#k upon the instant of meeting, and that her cheek grew ashen j~ale. But her emotion did not escape the keen glances of her i~nele; and a close observer might have noted the sudden cont~actkkn of his brows, which followed his discovery. Sitti g where he did~ just below the Adelantado, and immediate- ly a ove the lists, h~ witnessed easily the sudden quickening of ugh in the eyes of the Portuguese cavalier, and the as sudden paP g of the cheek of Olivia. But Philip and Olivia were, at that moment, wholl~r unconscious of the watch maintained upon the ere, let us pause and breathe. Our chapter is a long one, and having placed our champions in opposition, let us reserve the report of the jo3#ous passage for another. THE temptation struggled with. Ii late day, in a field Ariosto, of Spensei more, whose pract of many a well-ur~ the presence of no] ficiently imbued wil and we shall, accor tions of the tourna~ the persons of our as succinct as pos~ against unreasonable to our task. The champions, fronted, and all pre giving the signal. Opposing parties ru flashes from the clou wind of dust, while 1 their tread. At the party and one of th4 off the field by thei~ whose Opponent had lance in whatsoever CHAPTER XVII. Son dunque," disse ii Saracino, 'sono Dunque in si poco credit Con voi, Cite mi estimate inutile, e non buono Da potervi defender da Costui ?"-..A~i to describe the scene that will not do for us to aim at which has employed the ge and Walter Scott, not to s ised pens have painted for u ~ed passages..o~arms between duty and beauty. The read h such scenes to require no e lingly, confine ourselves mos Qent at Havana whic~i cone own drama, making the ge ible. With this caution t fears or improper ex~pectati challengers , and defer~ders, pared, the truncheon 6f De The trumpets sounded~[ the shed to the encounter like ci. The concussion th ~w up he solid earth shook beneath very first encounter two 0: challengers went down, and squires. This result left N been one of those overthrow~ directionn he thought proper; ~TO. followed must be successes, at this dus of Tasso, of' eak of hundreds s the full details rival knights in ~r is already suf- [aborate details; ly to those por- immediately eral description our audience, )fls, we proceed eing now con- oto was raised, ~harge, and the ~ o many vivid sudden whirl- the thunder of the assailing were dragged uno de Tobar, n, to turn his but, with the (228) page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224 yAsCON~ELOS. generosity of a nob~e nature, he preferred to keep himself In reserve for such other inequality in the struggle as might yield him an unembarrassed combatant wholly to himself. New lances having been si~tpplied to those who had fractured them fairly in the passage and without disparagement to their arms, the sig. nal was given for a fresh encounter; the vacancies, meanwhile, being supplied in the ranks of both parties. In this second pas- sage, Don Vasco de Porcallos carried himself so handsomely against his opponent, who was a huge Fleming of. nearly his own dimensions, that the latter was incontinently overthrown, and removed almost insensible from the field. A similar fortune, though not with such serious hurt, befell Christopher de Spinola, whose boast "a solas me sostingo," was not justified by the result of the encounter. He was handsomely lifted out of his saddle by the lance of Diego Arias Tinoco, a brave captain, rough as a porcupine, who was honored as standard-bearer of the army. The latter, being now disengaged, was singled out by Nuno de Tobar, and his horse falling, and swerving in the shock, he was adjudged to have been worsted, and very reluctantly yielded for the moment to a conqueror. The successes of Nuno were welcomed right royally by the cheers of the admiring spectators; whose comments, by the way, were administered unsparingly, whether for praise or blame, at every charge in the business of the field. Meanwhile, Philip de Yasconselos has borne himself in a second encounter with the gigantic Mateo de Aceytuno. In the first, a gentle and joyous pas- sage, as the heralds styled it, the~ advantage was decreed to rest with neither. Their lances had been mutually well addressed, and had shivered at the same moment, both knights preserving their seats handsomely, though not, perhaps, with equal grace ;-for Philip had few equals in mere carriage-~and recovered their places in an instant; but proper judgments remarked, in the strong patois of the mountains, that the horse of Mateo had too little bone for his master's beef. In this, he certainly suffered some disadvantage. But the second conflict was decisive; and the knight of Aceytuno went dowii before his more adroit antago- nist-his huge b of some mighty to be due to a Jo heavy knight wa ascribed it to th opponent disappe himself in the pr Nuno de Tobar. Perhaps, the w ter matched in m size and age; of st in the use of wear ment of the horse. persons; and as ti in the area, confroi and after them the encouragement. "Ho! brave ca' bright lances, for ti the cry, "Ho! Sat working of that fee the opponent of Ni time, a rival nation dialogue among the "I like not that t of our contests! ~ quest of the native~ may the good lanc dle with such shock, of Florida !" Such was the sort "Out upon thee! "There is room for brave men that we c ages. They are 4en of Peru, wher 10* TIlE TOURNAMENT. 1k thundering upon the earth tower. Something of this a sendingg of the girth, by whic secured; but others more li better skill of Philip; at 1mg from the field, Philip do esence of another, in the per iole tournament exhibited no ost respects. They were ne ength apparently nearly equ ons, and equally accomplished These were the comparison e two combatants, now almo ted each other with fresh la heralds, sent up fresh cries o aliens, for the honor of yo e glory of the conquest 1,' tiago, and the lance of Spain ing of nationality, which did no de Tobar was from anot The occasional murmurs, rowds, declared this prejudice ese Portuguese should come all we find the countries aw that these should gather th4 of Nuno de Tobar send him s sh~ll make him think no mc of murmur occasionally spol was the reply of some les, ~11, and gold for all, and therc n muster for these wars with o such feeble wretches as the Pizarro, I warrant you, and ( 225 ike the concussion [vantage was said the saddle of the eral, perhaps just, .1 events, the one ?~asconselos found on of his friend, ~wo warriors bet- rly of the same 1, equally expert I in the manage- s made by most ~t alone engaged ices, the people, ~' admiration~and r ladies! Ho! ~nd, sometimes, !" indicated the not forget that icr, and, at that md snatches of 'more strongly. hither to glean make the con- *~ gold? Now, ~'rom the sad- re of the pearls en aloud. selfish spirit. needs all the he Apalachian e of Cuba, or ur Adelantado 4 page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 VASCO~SELOS. here, had work enough. They will make us glad of all the good lances that will crowd thither under our banner. The Portu- guese is a &ood lance, and his brother, the younger, is a good lance; though where he hides himself at this time, and where- fore, I cannot guess. I had looked' to see him here. Had he been opposed to our fat Vasco Porcallosinstea'd of that clumsy Fleming, I warrant you that he had made the other sweat! But, hark! they prepare r Go to it, good knights! Go to it with a stomach! Show that ye have fed on lances! That your daily meat hath been bolt and spear-head, and your drink hath been sword,.blades, and Moorish scimitars! Ho! brave lances! Ho! brave steeds! To it! to it! brave lances, noble steeds !" This was one ~of a hundred voices, eagerly urging the cavaliers to the conflict which was held so equal. Equal in many respects, there were yet some, in which the knight of Portugal, or as they called him, "the Knight of the Homeless Falcon,"-in allusion to his crest-had much the advantage. His steed had been better trained for such encounters; he himself had seen more various service; and he possessed. a sedate and temperate coolness of mind, to which the somewhat mercurial nature of Nuno de To- bar could not lay claim. Above all, he knew just in what particulars he himself was strong and his opponent weak, and he prepared rather to exercise his patience and watchfulness, than his strength and skill. Nuno de Tobar, ambitious of excelling- fighting in the presence of the army, and of that beauty which was usually the source of his inspiration-resolved that Philip de Vasconselos should have need of both. . Besides, he was to fight for the honor of Spanish lances. Though, personally, a devoted friend of his present opponent, he had heard the popular cries which insisted upon their Castilia~ representative, in opposition to the foreign~ knight; and he was determined that Spain's honor should suffer nothing at his hands. But Philip de Vasconselos had also heard these cries. He had long since been bitterly made to feel the jealousy and preju- dices which existed amongst the Castiians towards himself and his Portuguese associates, and the pride of self and nation, which THE ADVERSARIES. rendered resolute his courage, was mingled ~ bitterness, which made him half forgetful tha was his friend. hus it was that, as if in reco, culiar wishes of t e multitude, each knight wa~ gage in the strug le with a sentiment approach hostility. We h ye said nothing of the influer sence of Olivia d Alvaro had upon this feeling~ enough to say tha it did not, by any means, h solution to empi y all the prowess of which I the approaching c ntroversy. The interval ne essay in providing the cha~ lances, tightening t e girths of their saddles, and them ready for the combat, was consumed in m we have taken in describing it. The knights places, and the trumpets sounded the charge. a very beautiful o e, which greatly delighted th lances were shiver d equally, the strokes being moment, and eac delivering it fairly upon enemy. Newly s applied with weapons, the e newed, and with th same results. By this time de Tobar was gro ing impatient. lie felt, ra the coolne&~ of his opponent; in which he knew vantage of the lat er; and with this feeling, it vain that he strove to preserve his own. Phii discerned the restlessness of his adversary, in stance, which drewd wn upon the Spanish cliampio applause of the m altitude. In receiving a fre~ herald, and while w ceiling about to recover his lists, De Tobar hur ed the lance no less than t the air, catching it exterously as it fell, and e proper grasp. Suc agility, which seemed co crowd of equal co dence and skill, appeared Philip de asconsel s a proof of a nervous excitat strength o will, or coolness; and he prepared ingly, to c ange so ewhat his plan of combat. = his steed ad rushed to the encounter; his lance,] 227' with something of' t Nuno de Tobar ~nition of the pe- prepared to en~ ing that of a real ce which the pre- of Philip. It is ssen his fixed re- te was master in npions with fresh otherwisee making chess time than ~re both in their The passage was heralds. Both ade at the same ~'e shield ~f his counter was re- however, Nuno Fier than beheld, ay the chief ad- seemed quite. in de Vasconselos a little circum- ithe thoughtless lance from the position in the tree times into 3h time by the iclusive to the n the eyes of on, rather than himself, accord~ hitherto, when Ike that of De page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 YASCOINSELOS. Tobar, had been addressed to the shield of. his opponent. This was the common mark in the tournament of that day; the want of exercise making the atteint more difficult when addressed to the gorget, or the helm; but the cavalier of Portugal had prac- tised the one method as well as the other, and not designing a surpriseupon his opponent, he shook out his lance, ere the trum- pets sounded, and levelled it in the direction of De Tobar's visor. The hint seemed to be taken, for~the lance of the latter was at once slightly elevated, receiving a new direction in his glance. Thus prepared, the signal was given, and they hurried to the shock. At the moment of crossing spears, his point still ad- dressed to the visor of his opponent, Vasconselos threw suddenly the lower edge of his shield forwards, inclining it over his own head, and watching the object of his aim from beneath the very rim of the buckler. No time was left the other for providing against this peculiar interposition of the shield, which required him to have aimed so truly as to thrust his lance directly against the visor of his antagonist, the crest of whrch was totally covered, leaving the mark aimed at reduced to the smallest possible size. The skill of Tobar was not equal to such a manoeuvre. The point of his lance accordingly struck the edge of the raised shield, and glanced upward,. and onward, over the smooth surface, ex- pending itself in air; while the point of Vasconselos, admirably delivered, was rjveted in the bars of his antagonist's visor, so firmly, and so fairly, that there was no escape, no evasion of it possible; and the gall~n~ Nuno was borne from his saddle, with- out seeming resistance. Indeed, the spear so fixed, the onward rush of' both steeds gave it an impulse which no skill, no strength, at such a moment, could possibly withstand. It carried him headlong to the ground, and the steed went free from under 1dm. There was a cry, almost a howl, from the multitude, at the thll of their favorite, and the national~ champion. "Demordos!" sang out the swell mob in the corridor, who flung up their arms with their voices, and swore, and tore their ;hair, with as much yivaci~y ~s could be shown by the most mer T11E~ LAST OF THE CIEIALLENG~ curial Frenchmar conqueror; not nationality, in fav away; and then all parts Of the a~ agreed, there was which should just~ Meanwhile, Phili saddle, ~nd was th from he~hti and squires, ~Elowever, really seYere one, by it; b t, other soreness, not his sufficient y recover Vascons los, in to which si4h an evei from the~field, and for the next encon The caprices of of all the challenge allows4 de .Fugueroa. quieted to think, th way of the knight sage, would remain cavalier, thus distin poured the last" of with equal spirit an in not having been knights by whom t was, perhaps, not with some misgivin with his Castilian fr much for new conq had already achieved the knight of the Fa * A few voices shouted the~ ble to resist the emotion, or of a deed of manhood. Bi ould be heard that angry sor phitheatre, in which, though yet no possibility of setting~ fy their anger, or soothe thei~ de Vasconselos had ttkrown I e first to hurry to assist and e: orget, and raise him from ti were soon in attendance. Th ~nd the Spanish knighi~ was so ise, he was uninjured. But] Leart. ills gloved h nd, as ed to recognize his o~3onent~ ~en of that friendly s .t could never interrupt. He Philip now rode back to his ter. he day had left him without c ~s, than the portly Hidalgo, I In him, the Spanish mult Lt they beheld the only obsta f Portugal; who, if success he master of the field. The v ~uished by fate, as was Ulys us comrades, had hitherto ma I success. He had been fort confronted with the most for ELC challengers had been enc holly unconscious of this fac ~s, accordingly,~which he ends,-that he prepared to ests, as to maintain those He had seen enough of t con, by whom the favorite of RS. 229 r applause of the ore strong than t these soon died of discussion, in all persons Were upon the reason disappointment. himselff out of the ~tricate his friend ~e ground. The fall had been a mewhat stunned is head felt the soon as he had clutched that of between them, was assisted off place, prepared ther antagonist, on Vasco Por- tude were dis- de, now, in the U in this pas- ~in and wealthy yes, to be "de- Eltaned himself Linate, perhaps, mnidable of the entered. He t; and it was hared equally contend, not so hich his lance ie prowess of the Spaniards A page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 280 VASOONSELOS. had been so roughly handled, to entertain a reasonable appre- hension of the consequences to himself; and, if the truth were known, he was in little humor for this last grand passage. Could lie have retired from the contest without discredit, and without utter forfeiture of the honors he had already Won, it is perhaps doing him no injustice to say that he would most certainly have declined it. He had not gone through his fatigues without suf- fering. His portly frame, for a long time unused to harness, was now shrinking beneath its incumbrance. He was reeking with perspiration, which a brimming goblet of' cool wine of Xeres, which he had just~swallowed, had not tended to diminish. But, with all his annoyances and doubts, he put on a good countenance, and, closing up his visor, prepared for the encounter, with his best hope and spirit. "The fat knight adds but another to the trophies of our Por- tuguese cavalier. Philip de Vasconselos will remain master of the field; certainly, he hath most admirable skill of horse and weapon. He hath but a single joust before him, and then he may elect the Queen of Love and Beauty 1,' This was said by Don Balthazar de Alvaro. It was addressed to the lady of the Aclelantado. But it was meant for other ~ears. At a little distance, on the left of Hernan de Soto, stood Andres de Yasconselos. He had been a witness of all that had taken place; and had heard the significant words of Oliyia's un- cle. For a moment he gazed steadily upon the field; then, giving asin~e glance at Olivia, ~hose color had been greatly heightened by her emotions during the scene, he was about to leave the scaffolding, when the words of the Adelantado reached his ears~ .-nbt spoken aloud, but rat her as if giving expression to a feel. ing which he could no longer suppress, and which was stronger than his policy: "Now, would I give my best steed could Vasco Porcallo~ maintain himself to the overthrow of this Portuguese cavalier It were shame to the lances of Spain should he bear away th palm; and I would gladly see that arrogance rebuked, which bu too much distinguishes this stranger. Were it not for the posi tion which I hob steed in this corn "To be thyself de Vasconselos, x~ de Soto hafl not ii the two Portugue but Balthazar de, saw, too, the mea the eyes of Andr made. it was his conselos from eve still seeming not t "It were no eas' of Portugal, at this eyes in this assen him with invincible is always brave; b who, at the same ti This was careless eyes of Andres de - She saw nothing bu face, more than ev which was not to be sad and pale, as A flashed with an emc was forgetful wholly her eye, and he saw lifted, and gazing, wi creature whom he h~ his heart, and, with e controlled, he dashe among the pavilions his departure, almost with a keen feeling oi "lie has it !" mut once more addressed TORMflNTS Op JEALOUSY.: I, I should myself take up I )at !" overcome," was the secret t. hich he found it difficult to si noticed the near neighborhood C ~e knights, as he made his in ~Uvaro was well aware of hi nng of that fierce glance wh ~s, when the speech of the policy to divert the anger of ry but one object, and he qi perceive the youth: r matter to wrest the victory moment. There are, if I mi ~bly, the favoring smiles of power. lie who fights in th t he who fights in the eyes o ne looks love in return, is un! ly said, but the glance of the ~asconselos to the spot wher the one presence in the fiel ~r beautiful; glowed the fires misunderstood. Her cheek ridres had usually beheld ii tion, betraying a joy and a of itself. Andres followed I his brother, proud and eager, th the most intent delight, up Ld loved in vain. Bitter wa notions of hate and envy, whi I away from the stage, an in the rear. Balthazar de ~ the only one of the assembly gratification. tered the wily politician to his attention to the business oi 231 ance, and mount ought of Andres press. liernan f the younger of discreet remark; presence, lie ich flashed frQm Adelantado was- Andres de Vas.. ickly remarked, from this knight stake not, bright which will arm sight of beauty F a beloved one, onquerable." uncle led the sate the niece. d; and in her of an affection was no longer It was now triumph which he direction of with visor up- n the beautiful the pang at h could not be disappeared lvaro beheld who did so, iiniself as he the tourney: 231 page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 282- VASCONS1~LO~ "lie has it-and the time is not distant, when he will make another feel the fury of that dark passion which is working in his heart." Don BaltJaazar judged rightly of the feelings of Andres, when~ he allowed his own nature to provide the standards of judgment. Why had Andres gone to his pavilion ~ we shall see hereafter. Enough, that he summons his squire to his aid; that he cases himself in armor; that he bids them get ready his destrier, that he buckles sword to his side, and shakes aloft the heavy lance, and tries its burden with his hands. Let us leave him, and re- turn to the amphitheatre. CHAPTER XVIII. "Clash g of swords Brother opposed to broth r! Here* no fencing at half-sword. Hold! hold!'. BSA ONT AND FL~rCHsL THIs episode, be ween parties not mingling ifh the action, offered no obstruct n to the progress of the tou ey. The pre. operations still went n for the passage-at-arms bet een our knight of the Falcon, and he redoubtable millionair on Vasco de Porcallos. These ere soon completed, and ~h knights took their places. "Lais ez aller !" The signal being given, the two champions dashed rward to the encounter v~ii h a desperate speed that threateuie to annihilate both combat~n s. There was no reluctance in the marriage and conduct of the rich cavalier, however great might have been his secret misgi ings. While he, no doubt, question ed his ow-n resources of skil and strength against an opponent ho had always proved himse f most formi- dable, yet the doubt of Don Vasco never once occasioned any fears in his bosom. He wa~ brave enough when the trial was to be made. He wa not destined to be success I, but he was spared some of the fortifications of defeat. A m fortune hap- pened to. him, while in mid career, which proba ly saved our corpulent cavalier fro ~ a much worse evil. His steed, which was as high-spirited a he was powerful, trod upo the barbed head of a broken lanc which had been pai~tly burie out of sight beneath the sands of the arena. The sharp poin of the steel touched the quick of t e animal's foot, and, with a snort of ter- ror, he wheeled about t the very moment when the 1 nces should have crossed. He be ame suddenly unmanageable . Quick as lightning, as he beheld the straits of his opponent, t e knight of 233 L page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 YASCONSELOS. Portugal elevated his own lance, and, having full control of his steed, drew him suddenly up, arresting him in his full speed so admirably, that he stood quivering upon the spot; the unexpended impulse which he had received now shaking him as with an ague. In another instant, Philip de Vasconselos was on his feet, an~ had grasped the bridle of the unmanageable steed of his riva1,~ which, by this time, w~s in a state of fury, occasioned by the agony of his hurt, which threatened momently to unseat his rider. The timely service enabled Don Yasco to alight, and gratefully acknowledging the assistance rendered he at the sam~ time acknowledged himself vanquished.' The courtesy of hi~ opponent, indeed, had alone spared him this misfortune. Do4 Philip gracefully rejected this acknowledgment, and, ascribing the event solely to the sufferings of his rival's horse, propose that Don Vasco should find another. But, by this time, the chivalrous feelings of the latter had soniewhat subsided. He felt much less enthusiastic than before~ and was rather pleased now ~ at a means of evasion, which, whiP it lost him the final honor of the day, at least left him in possession of the credit which he had acquired in the previous, passages. The knight of the Falcon. remounted his own steed, and resumed his place within the list~. He stood alone, and in expectation. No champion stood before him, challenging the triumph~which he had won,-the crownin~ triumph of the field. There was a sudden and deep silence throughout the assembly. The feeling was everywhere adverse to his claims and expectations; and it was with something of contempt, not unmixed with bitterness, that our knight of Por- tugal was reminded of the national prejudice, which felt relu4- tant to do justice to the achievements of the' stranger. Ther~ w~s no other reason for the silence and forbearance of Don ilernan de Soto, who, in the case of a Castilian champion, or in that of one to ~whom he felt no personal prejudice, would, no doubt, have promptly risen in his place, and summoned the su~. cessful knight forward, to choose the Queen of Love and Beaut~r, and to receive the chaplet of honor at her hands. There was up reason why the award should not be promptly made.' The~~ was no challenge p for the combat. .~ disposed of. Yet t. in waiting, unempl not a word being sj the multitude, sign make the necessary felt his justification. by this time, joined interposed to demar ing champion. It w prepared to comply escape with decency~ "But a moment ii "Wherefore ?" de: of Portugal in waiting "Let him wait !" tones. "The warden Don Balthazar whi "There is cause. another challenger. "Ha! who~" How did Don Ba longer? The simple it; still less did he for the laurels shoul further conversation a a trumpet without aw fiction that his crown had become suffi~ientl conflict. He turned the approaching cava theatre the form of A of extreme sorrow an moment he beheld h~ Visor: A NEW CHAMPION. nding. No opponent had an: 11 who had presented them~ e knight of the Falcon was yed, alone, for a space of s oken to him, and a dead suer ficantly declaring the gener~ award. In the silence of the But the gallant Nuno de 'Ii the ladies about the Adel~ d that justice should be done s with a cold severity of loo with a requisition which he c when Don Balthazar de Alv ore, your excellence." anded Tobar. "Will you I g all day, without a cause ?" aid De Soto, sharply, thou~ hath a reason for it." spared to Tobar: The tourney is n~t yet end He will soon appear." thazar know that there was Nuno de Tobar himself nev ~onjecture in what guise the ~ appear. At that moment ~d speculation, a sudden sharp akened Phiii~ de Vasconselo was not secure. By this tim ~r embittered for genuine ang is glance quickly, as 'he hear her, and beheld emerging mt r~dres his brother. The spect d mortification to the elder b m, Philip muttered to himse 285 ounced himself elves had been allowed to stand several minutes, ce hanging over 1 reluctance to rowd, De Soto obar, who had, ntado, warmly to the conquer- k that D~Soto uld not longer ro interposed. eep the knight h in subdued [ed. There is another chal- r dreamed of new claimant silencing all flourish from ~ to the con- e, his feelings ~r, and a real the tread of o the amphi- acle was one i~other. The f, closing his 235 page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 'VASCONSELOS. OLIVIA'S EMOTIONS. 237 "Thou too, my brother! Thou hast then joined with mine enemies-ay, and thy enemies too-against me I" The visor of Andres was already closed, and Philip could not behold his face; but he could readily conjecture the ci~imson flush which covered it,-the usual sign of his intemperate pas-~ sion. He had been somewhat surprised, that Andres had taken~ ?&O part in the tournament before; but the feeling was not on~ of regret, since, as we have seen, he had already entertained some misgivings that his brother might take the field against himself 'We have not forgotten the fierce dialogue which had taken plac~ between them on t~his subject. Of course, Philip de Vasconselos entertained no personal apprehensions from the encounter. Illis pride was in no way alarmed, lest he should meet with over throw, in the passage-at-arms with his brother. Indeed, to spea1~ plainly, Philip knew too well his own superiority of training, art, and muscle; though the vanity of Andres was suchrthat he had persuaded himself to a very different estimate .of their mu- tual powers. He was yet to be taught a better knowledge of their disparity. The reluctance of Philip to engage in such a contest, even though the tournament implied neither strife nor malice, was based upon his just knowledge of human nature; upon his thorough experience jn respect to the mood and char- acter of Andres-his passionate blood; his disappointments of heart; his jealousy of the superior influence and reputation of his brother, We can readily divine the several reasons which governed Philip in his anxiety to escape a conflict, in regard to which he yet entertained no fears. Now that they stood con- fronted, and the contest was inevitable, he endeavored to calm his own blood, and control his temper, somewhat excited by the circumstances which had marked his treatment by the Adelan- tado and the assembly. But this was not so difficult. The re- ception of Andres, by the audience, was of a sort to kindle in the elder brother a sentiment of passionate indignation, as it declared~ how grateful to the common feeling wo~ild be his over- throw. The multitude hailed the entry of the~ new champion with the wildest plaudits, not simply as he promised to prolong their sports, but as of the person wh It was true that, ev the honor would be vision did not exte defeat of the one c compelled to succu There was still a titude, on the unexp It is a curious fact, t respect to the passion tinguished men. in what points supei~ stmct, that the broth~ enough, touching th Olivia de Alvaro, to to be marked by 0th tion, and the pride tI They guessed all th champion, and they i other. And the two whom they both love to where Olivia sate,] hension. She, too, p~ They were brothers; fear that they were e of their tents; and th~ tween them. And ii other with sharp wea very manner in whicl the field; the momei full possession of the' to afford him the law was a circumstance ft sought the conflict wi period, was a suflicieni ~e afforded still another chan ~e triumph had chafed the n if Andres should succeed lost to Castile; but to thi A. 'All that they now re valier, to whom their own fa ib. other reason for the excited ~cted appearance of Andres bat the instincts of the vulg as which goad and afflict the e common people seem readi iority is weak. They all kn rs were rivals. They had ir mutual attachment to t imagine that the approach er feelings than those of ch at looks only to the mome e bitter vexation that stimu erred like feelings in the were to fight in the presence d~ A thousand eyes turned ale and breathless with anxi( rtook of the convictions of I they were rivals; and she Ji series. She had heard of t t there had already been sh Low they stood, face to face, ons. What had she not t Andres de Vasconselos apj t chosen, when his elder b] victory; when but a moment I crown for which he had St 11 of significance. That An h other champions, or previ proof that its honors were n e for the defeat national pride. against Philip, finality, their uired was the writess had been nt of the mul- .e Vasconselos. r rarely err in natures of dis- y to conjecture ~w, by sure in- een and heard .e fair beauty, g conflict was valrous ambi- itary triumph. lated the one bosom of the of the woman involuntarily ty and appre.. he multitude. ad reason to e separation rp words be- ronting each fear? The eared within * other was in was needed iven! This res had not usly, at any t the objects 237 page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 VASOONSELOS. THE ENCOUNTER. 239 of his desire. Why should he take the field now, unless with the aim to pluck them from the brow of. his brother ~ It was a bad passion-hate, revenge, anything but an honorable ambition -which prompted his appearance now, at the last moment. Olivia thought all these things. Such were the thoughts of Philip also. But he strove to restrain and silence them; and, in the brief interval allowed him, his inward struggle w~s to subdue himself;-to keep his own bad passions in subjection, and to offer no such provocation to those of his brother, as would place him entirely beyond control of human reason. He resolved to be forbearing in all respects. But this did not imply that he would forego any of his resources of skill or strength in the conflict. He was not, by any means, to yield his laims to the honors of the field, in favor of any opponent. On his point he was reso. lute; and, thus resolved, it became hi ,if he would effect his triumph, and avoid giving unnecessary revocation, or inflicting mortification upon his brother, that he s oul& maintain the cool. est temper, and suffer nothing to distu b his passions. It re. quired some effort to do this, for he had felt bitterly his isolation in the last few moments,-a feeling sadly increased, when, as he phrased it, his own brother had joined his enemies against him. We must not allow it to be supposed that the Adelantado beheld the opening of the new issue between these parties, with. out being somewhat sensible to the strangeness of its aspects. His instincts, too, were at work; and remembering to have heard of the quarrel between the brothers, he began to think there was something unnatural in the approaching combat. His conscience reproached him for the ungenerous delay which had kept Philip de Vasconselos from the crown of victory, and af. forded the opportunity for the event, of the results and character of which he had grown apprehensive; and he looked dubiously at the warder of the field, Don Balthazar de Alvaro, and for the first time felt suspicious of those motives, on his part, which had moved him to urge the delay in closing the lists. But there was now no moment for arrest and interposition, unless by the exercise of a seemingly arbitrary authority, which would show ungraciously in all go on. Both chain1 Andres de Vascoi was a handsome anc muscle and agility, utterly fearless of ~ mare, of great hard also, was more ~ay chain of gold, with a ga~ crimson scarf ci with his sable arm4 his brother; and cre ambition, which, in tI and . Portuguese ad'~ meteors amidst clouc turbas illustris ".-." C the man to prefer alv of the most unmeasu in our preliminaries. warder is waved alc heralds cry their enco "To it, gallant gen ladies look on you wi 'Glory amid the ~ should he not soar to These, and a hundr4 as the heralds, rang th parting from their plh that thundered along mously; new ones we rush was heard, rathe: concussion. The lane but\ it was observed .tl seated in the shock. felt it; and his anger confronting his oppon4 yes. Accordingly, the affair lions were already prepared iselos, as we have already * vigorous youth, well made, yell skilled in arms, an admi oul. He was mounted on [hood and life. His armor, han that of his brother, and medallion pendant, around ossed his bosom, and contra )r. His shield was very mi~ ~t and device equally declare rat day, marked pretty equal enturer. It bore f~r figure( and storm, with the Latin ~ Flory amidst the storm." H rays that his successes should red conflict. But we need 1] The signal sounds; the tru ft; the trumpet sounds th( uragement. lAemen! honor awaits brav ;h smiles. Glory is for him torm '-. The falcon has her the heights of glory ?" ~d other cries, from the auc 'oughout the amphitheatre, a~ ~ces, rushed to the encounter the earth. The lances were re supplied in a moment; a~ than seen; and again can ~s were again. shivered at t Lat Andres de Vasconselos w In truth, he had a narrow e~ was heightened, and, as he ~nt, a bitterer feeling of host was suffered to br it. described him, of considerable rable rider, and a fine blooded ~hough sombre he wore a rich us gorget. A ~ted effectively ch like that of I that haughty ly the Spanish , a shower of ~ords.-.." Inter ~ was certainly I be the fruits nger no more ucheon of the charge; the deeds; your ~hat conquers, wings; why ience as well the brothers, with a shock shivered fa.. am, the wild ie the fearful ~e encounter, ~s nearly un- cape, and he stood again lity than he / \ /~ N i~ page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] 240 VASOONSELOS. had known before, worked within his bos m; arEd his teeth were gi~ashed 'together; and grasping the ne spear with ~which he ha4 been furnished, he muttered to hims if, as he shook it aloft, -.-~" If thou fail me, I will look to surer w apon." The third passage was waited for with great impatience by the multitude. The previous combats seemed to have been mere child's play to these. Every~ one felt th~t the present passages were~ marked by passion much more serious than those of chiv- alric courtesy, even when stimulated bLy ambition, or urged by the desire of doing greatly in the ey s of love and beauty. The spectators were now hushed and brea Mess. The occasional formulas cri~s of the heralds, repeating the old of encouragement, seemed very unmeaning sounds in respect to such a conflict. They were felt almost as impertinence; and, indeed, by this time, the heralds themselves seemed to a rive at this opinion, for they suddenly became silent. All now as eager expectation. The ~signal followed, and the passage. There was the same fearful concussion, as before; the clouds f dust; the confusion.' But the results were more decided, and the encounter was fol- lowed by a wild, sharp cry, full of rage nd fury. Soon, Philip de Vasconselos emerged out of the dust- 4oud, and coursed once round the rThg; a moment after, Andr4s was beheld, on foot, with his battle-axe in his hand, and dartii~g after his brother with the ferocity and speed of a tiger. The steed of the younger knight was down, rolling over in the san~1; by what hurt or ac- cktent, no one could conjecture. He hi self had all the action of a madman. His fine scarf was riven; his armor covered with dust, and his helmet thrown off. His hair, which was long, ~floated wildly; his fake was crimson wit passion, and his eyes glared with a fury which threatened to destroy everything in his path. He made headlong way toward~ Don Philip, who had now drawn up his steed, and stood quietly, if not calmly, await- ing him at the barriers, which was as fa1r hack as he ~could re- cede. Here he must stop and encounter what should happen, if he would not incur the disgrace of seething to fly, which would have befallen him should he again put his horse in motion to escape from furth with rage and mc at once sprang tc head. Then it wa wonderful spirit ar he threw himself o kind in his grasp, seemed not to pei and all expected th he shook his battle. struck that his brot "Get thee thy w "Put down thin Philip.-." wherefore "Madness!" criec madman, I will braji tell thee; thy trium trials between us!" "Go to, Audres: thou strike at thy br "I see no brother enemy only, and I wi triumph Over me I" With these passic Control of reason, he deadly and determine Philip! But the latte armed. He lightly st that, if it had encount down, powerful as he v before the younger br him by the arm; and to possess, he wrested youth, with as little see a child in his hands. have employed in tellin 11 A BROTaER's STRIFE. r assault, lie had not long ratification, Andres soon madc wards him, swinging the ha t ~ that Philip exhibited, in hi d activity which he Possesse rn from his steed, and, without confronted his brother. ceive the unarmed condition ~t he would strike, from the axe and pushed forward. B ~er was unarmed, he cried out apons !" ~, Andres !" was the calm this madness ?" Don Andres; "if thou da thee as thou stand'st! Get t h is not complete. There thou art foolish; thou art fey )ther in anger 2" I know no brother! I know 11 slay thee as a dog. Thou s nate words, showing him en I at once strode forward, an Ii aim and stroke, full at the r was prepared and watchful, ~pped aside from the blow, w i ~red his head, had certainly 1 ras. lie stepped aside and es ~ther could recover his position ~vith such a vigor as no one ~he axe from the grasp of I ruing effort as if the latter h c ~Jl this occupied far less ti g it; but the interval had be 241 o wait. Blinded L4j/ to him, iir~ and ;le~axe above his ~hest degree, the In an instant weapon of any e latter at first )f Don Philip, manner in which ~, seeing ere he hoarsely..- reply of Don 3st call me a hy weapons, I Qust be other 'ed! would'st thee as mine halt have no [rely beyond struck, with rest of Don though un- ch was such, Brought him ~ped it; and, he grasped [eemed him ie infuriate [been only ie than we n sufficient .4 241 page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 VASCONSELOS. to have allowed the warder of the field have thrown his truncheon if he had pleased to do so, a d for the heral1 guards to have interposed. Nuno de Tol4r had entreate~ Baithazar to arrest the combat' when it promised to be b but he was unheeded. "There is danger, I tell thee, Don B~lthazar! Don 2 hath no control of himself in his passion, and see you n the victory already rests with Don Philip f?" "Nay," said the other-" three strokes may be tak'~ the sword or battle-axe, according ito the wishes of the c ants, after the passage with the lance." "~Only where the passage with the lan~e results in no tage to either," was the reply of Tobar. "Yet, I see not why they should be checked in a new r if the parties desire it." "But Don Philip, you perceive, does t~ot desire it." "Then, by my troth, he loses some of his renown as nor. He should face his foe with any w a on." Nuno de Tobar was furious at these w~rds, and greatly hensive; and his passion might have expI~oded in a challenge of the justice and magnanimity of the Ade himself, to whom he now turned in impatient appeal, w was arrested by the sudden terminatio~1I of the combat have described it. The next moment l~eheld Don And armed, and the battle-axe in the grasp of l~is brother. The that Don Baithazar threw down his trunpheon, and the tI sounded the retreat. But Don Andres 1~eeded not these He confronted Don Philip with a passion 4s reckless as be~ thistime with the feelings of despair and shame, rather than and hate. "Slay me 1" he cried, "strike, Philip de Vasconselo thy enemy! Thou hast the weapon. 11'hou hast disgii eternally. Put a finish to thy work. ~mite! my hea covered to thy blow!" "Go to, Andres; this is folly; thou hast fever in tl~ my brother. It is the madness of thy b~ood, not thy he THE END OF TBE CONT]~ST. down s and Don oody, ndres t that with mbat. van- ssage, a war- appre- iolent antado en he as we 'es dis- it was umpets signals. re, but of rage ,as at ced me is un- veins, *rt, that has wrought thee to this unhappy conduct. I Andres. I love thee, nay brother, whatever feel, or say!" With these words, PhIlip flung the batth Andres cast himself down, with his face updn the heralds and squires came up, he rose agal fered himself to be led out. He was borne a fever in his veins, and that night was in high d 248 cannot harm thee, thou may'st do, or ~axe to a distar~ce. the earth; but, as ri quietly, and su~ way with a raging 3liriuna. page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] CHAPTER XIX. "We charge these women leave the co~irt, Lest they should swoon." ~ETnM Ow THE effect of this scene was prodigious up~n the whole ass bly. Its events were just of that sort to fill the minds and e~ the imaginations of such a swelling, earnest, ~rave yet passion~ people as the Spaniards; and, for awhile, th~y were all husi as if overwhelmed with emotion, and still ex~ectiug other ev of even greater excitement to follow. They were conquered the Portuguese. The deportment of Philip de Vasconselos been such as to impress* every spectator '~vith the full s of his noble character and perfect heroism, and there ~ none now so bold as to challenge his triumph or his fa Verily, he had gone through the most fearful of all trials for a soul. He had survived them, though he suffered from ~ still. He had overcome those worst enemi ~s, his own pas~ which, wronged on eVery hand, and fiercely assailed by the~ above all others, who should have approached them with nol but love and veneration, had been able to subdue thems within just limits, and permitted him to ripe equally abov enemies and his own blood! This ~was not lost upq spectators. Their hush was only the prelu e to their app Their instincts, kept in lively play all the wh le, and making forgetful of all their former dislikes and jealous ies, had brought final judgments right. Their souls, as they beheld, became conscious of the rare beauty of his carriage and his perform 244 DON PIIILtp'~ ~RIUMpI[. 24 throughout; and the gentle humanity, whi h, at the closing scene, had appeared so conspicuously In uni on with the mos determined courage and the coolest conduct. e wildest shout testified their admiration, and declared the co plete triumph oi the hero of the day, not only Over all oppone ts, but over theji own stubborn and ungenerous prejudices. Th y did not see thc bitter smile that mantled the face of Philip as e heard these up. roars of admiration, lie knew the value of popular applause, and quietly rein counting his steed, he stood in ence waiting for the summons of the warder, to the foot of th dais, where the Adelantado was to place the crown upon the ance of the con: queror, who was required, in turn, to lay it a the foot of the lady whom he should designate as the Queen of Love arid Beauty. It was her task to accept the tribute, and, lifting up the trophy so deposited, to place it on the head of her ehampi n. There was no reluctance, now, on the part of the Adelantado to do justice to the knight of the Falcon. De Soto, it is true, had his prejudices as well as his people; and his pride had been somewhat stung by the reserve which had been e hibited towards him by Philip de Vasconselos; to say nothing of the olThnce which the latter had given, in announcing his dou ts in respect to his farther connection with the expeditioii to orida. But, though a proud and selfish person, De Soto was ot a base one. lie had his moments of prejudice and passion, but was by no means insensible to greatness of soul and heroic character, even in the instance of an enemy. lie was thorough disarmed by the conduct of Philip; and some compunctious v stings of con~ science now made him anxious to atone, as far s possible, by the most prompt acknowledgment, for his past co dress and ne- glect. lie bade the warder do his duty, and, at signal given, and amidst a passionate faifare from the whole orps of trum- peters, the knight of the Falcon was led up to the f ot of the dais. Here he dismounted uncovered his head, ascen ed the rude steps, which had ~been hastily placed~ for the purpose, and pre- sented his lance at the bidding of De Soto, who,~ a warm and graceful speech, of a few sentences, placed upon it ~he trophy aa. AW. m ite ate ed, nts by had rise ere uch em ons, one, hing Ives his the use* bhem their fully ~nces 5 g S page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 248 v~soo~s~Lo~ signed to the conqueror. This was a beauti~ui coronet, or c of rich purple velvet, encircled with a chap~et of pearls, in centre of which flamed a single but large di~imond, surround by rubies and other precious stones. Don l~hilip received prize with the most graceful obeisance, but iii profound siler then advancing to the foot of the seat oecupi~d by Olivia de varo, he knelt, and laid the coronet before )aeit, dropping his h at. the same moment beside him. Again th~ trumpets soun in a soft but capricious Saracenic strain, wh~le the heralds c: aloud the name of the. lady;. and De Soto, rising, proclaim her the Queen and Beauty of the tournament. We shall nothing of the envy sparkling all the while in the eyes of other fair dames in that fair assemblage; Wi the breast of of whom, no doubt~ there had lurked hopes more or less li~ during the progress of the day. However slight their h( when it was seen who was to be the successful champion, w still easily understand how there should be many disapp inents. Of course, there was much criticism, also, upon the ci of the knight of Portugal; and while moat of them couli mit cheerfully his superior claims as a warrior,-his skill, ~1 and address, in the tourney,-there were not a few to r that so much heroism should be accompanied by so very I taste. But the multitude applauded the taste, no less thar valor and conduct of the knight. It was now the task of Olivia de Alvaro to place the coi on the brows of her champion. This was no easy task, ho'~ grateful. She had been an excited spectator of the scene had felt, with constant trembling of heart and frame, all vicissitudes of the conflict. These were rendered trebl~ act consequence of that secret history of grief of which we I something already; the action of which2 on a system v nerves were all disordered, was of a sort to enfeeble and e at the same moment; so that but little strength was left h( the performancee of her task at the closing scene of the day. she arose, after a brief delay; the Knight of the Falcon st~ his knees before her. There was a dead silence now in ti THE QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEA ~he Led bhe Al. rice led ied ied say the ach ely, pes, can )int- o~ce * ad- drit, gret a the )net wer she the be in now hose ~cite r' for But I on e as- trTY- 247 sembly. All were curious to hear what she wo~ild say; for she was not simply to place the crown upon the h~ad of the cham pion,-she was -to accompany the act with wor~fIs of acceptance of the honor conf~~rred upon herself+to bestow applause upon his perforrnan~es, and to utter those exhortations to future deeds of chivalry.and valor, which are supposed nat rally to follow, where Beauty encourages, and Love is the g ntle counsellor. She arose slowly, amid that general hush of ex citation, which, by the way, increased her confusion; stooped to he crown which rested upon the footstool where Philip had laid t; lifted it, and advanced a step, in order to place it on his hea . At this nac.. inent their eyes met; a~ sudden and ashen pale ess Overspread her cheeks; her heart, beating wildly but a moment before, seemed at once frozen within her; and she tottered, sunk for- wards, and would have fallen to the floor, but that the swift arms of her lover caught and sustained her. She had fainted from the conflict of emotions which she could no longer sustain and live! page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] C HA PT ER X X. "Invention is ashamed, giste poclmain oftypsin Confess one to the other." A'S Win THA E~Ns i THEN it was, whi e all was commotiont in the assembly the passionate l ve ~f Don Philip for the unconscious da his arms; overcame and banished all the previous cal steadfastness in his manner. He thought her dead. Th no color in her cheeks, no life in her eyes, no pulsation veins. He cried aloud for succor, while drawing her clo his bosom, as if to warm her anew with his own tum fires. Before any one could interpose, he had borne her 1 the seat, supporting her with vigorous arm, and appealing consciousness by the most endearing efforts and expression was at that moment freed from all the conventional re which had hithierto made his passion cautious, and taug cealment as the proper policy of love. He was now not lin that the world should hear what he had hitherto ne elred to her, and with the-sense of her danger and his 1 became indifferent to the. opinion of those around, a re which is characteristic of the proud and sensitive natur he was not'suffered long to indulge in a situation which h so painfully sweet. He was brought to consciousness by terosition of other persons. Don Balthazar de Alvaro w at his side, and, laying his hand with rather a rude gras the shoulder of our knight, he bade him release the lady I who could better effect her restoration, and who were th poer personstoattemptit. Next came the wife of Tobar,f by the lady of the Adelantado and others, to whom Phi that sel in iand e was ni her ~ly to 1tuous ack to to her .HIe . traints tcon- unwil- er de- ss, he ard to . But found the in- s soon Upon those Most Slowed ip was. 249g V r,.. compelled to 'esign her. To these he yielded her, though with reluctance. Je shook off the grasp of Don Baithazar, and an- swered his lodks and words with an abruptness of manner, and a glance of fire, which declared the hostility and scorn which he truly felt, and in which the uncle was taught to read the language Qf defiance. livia was borne away by the female attendants. The Lady Isabella would have had her conveyed to her palace, but Don Balthitzar, in a very resolute manner, resisted this ar- rangement, an4 she was conveyediat once to his own residence. The amusements of the day were over. The trumpets sounded'the retreat ; the audience slowly melted away ; but long before the assembly was ~ispersed, Philjp de Vasconselos had disappeared from the public sight. -He proceede9i at once to the lodgings of his brother, but did not see him, as he feared that his presence would only inch ease the disorder of the latter. He ascertained, however, that hi .de- lirum and fever -did not increase, and that he was well -at- tended. The p 1ysician of De Soto himself had been sent, and had. admini tered some soothing drugs, after taking romn him a goodly qi antity of blood. He still remained with hiim, and would not suffer him to be disturbed. The attack had been severe as sudden, but it was not of prolonged duration; and judi- cious treatment, seconded by the youth and vigor of his constitu- tion, en abled hin, after a few days, to rise again to his feet. In a veek he was abl~ to resume his armor, and to exercise at the head of his little company. But he remained comparatively fee- be for some time, and the mortification which he had suffered hung like a dark shadow upon his soul. He became habitually gomy and nmor se ; addressing himself wholly to military stu- dies and exercise ,and never suffering himself to be seen in so- scey. Gadual he began to entertain more just and generous feings towards is brother, though from this period there was no longer any coi iality between them. The events which were yet to occur served, in great degree, to disarm him of that jealous hostility to Philp which had been the sole cause of his recent madness Philip, though solicitous of his health and ANDRE'S ILLNESS. page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] VASGON8]~LOS. safety, never obtruded himself upon him. He was cont 'leave to time the work of repair. But we must not antici The recovery of Olivia de Alvaro was much more rapi that of her rejected lover. What remedies were em~ in her case, were not suffered tobe known; but the very ne found her able to situp and converse. Leonora de Tobar sati time with her. Donna Isabella was also pleased to vis~ and other ladies shared in their friendly attentions. But~ recovering her consciousness, and in some degree her health, sank into a sort of sober melancholy, which no arts or att~ of her female companions could possibly reach. An exterior~ most stolid indifference encountered the friendly solicitude sought to soothe and heal; and while her deportment was tleness and meekness, her heart was yet closed against all ef probe its secret, or ascertain its apprehensions or its wants. onorade Tobar her case seemed a singularly mysterious or knew that she loved Philip de Vasconselos beyond all oth4 She was now sure, as was all the world, that he loved her' all other women. What more? Why should either of then happy? The whole affair was very incomprehensible to I afforded her a fruitful and constant subject for expostulati the sufferer, and speculation with all other parties. Don Balthazar was the only person who properly und * the whole difficulty. He. had his fears of the case, as ~ full knowledge of its peculiarities. His hope of security, to say, was based upon what he knew to be the virtues damsel. He relied wholly upon her justice and magnani defeat the" suit of the Knight of Portugal. But his fears ~ active. He apprehended that the weakness of the woma get the better part of her sense of justice. He knew th ous nature of the sex, and the paramount strength of th ings. Could Olivia really be capable of rejecting the lovE she preferred before all others, simply because of a col inent of honor and propriety? Why should she not kee eret, and thus secure her triumph? He still dreaded would resolve on this. He had too little nobleness hi nt to ate. I 'than loyed ~t day some ,her, while ~IMivia utions of the which il gen- crts to Po Le- ~. She r men. ~eyond be un. ~r, and ~n with stoodd ~ll as a rangee of the aity, to ~re still would sensu- ~ir feel- r whom I senti. ):her se- hat she aself to TIIIE GUARDIAN'S APPREEEYS1oNS 251 rely upon that ~f another; and the recent event lessened mate.. really his confic~ence in th&firmness dl' her virtue, which Was at present 'all his security. Of course it is understood that he can never be reconciled to her union with Philip, or, indeed, with any man. We hav~ but imperfectly unfolded our narrative thus far, if it be now necessary that we should endeavor to establish this fact. His selfishness at once of avarice and passion, was a set. tled necessity, a d utterly adverse to her finding happiness, ac- cording to the dictates of her affections. But it was necessary to confirm her in her Previously expressed and virtuous resolution of self-denial, lie was required to strengthen her dE~termination against the pleadings of her owii 'heart, as well as f her lover, to lessen the strength. of her feel- ings by stimulatit~g her propriety, and to keep her virtuous mag unanimity active, ,~s a barrier against her passion. This he now perceived to be ore Powerful than he, or even she, had previ- ously suspected, lie had watched her through all the caprices of the tournament and had seen the warmth and violence of her feelings, written ii her face and action amidst all the changes of the struggle. "Sl~ie is not to be trusted to her own sentiments,." was his reflection. "She may resolve as she pleases, in her quiet moments of thought; but let Philip de Vasconselos kneel im- ploring at her feet,~ and she will probably forget all her honorable resolves. She wil yield to his entreaties, before she~is conscious of the extremity o~ her admissions. I must provide against this." Let us see what ar~ his for effecting his objects. Olivia was recli irig upo a couc in the apartment opening Upon the vdrandah. There Don Balthazar suddenly presented himself. She looked up at his appearance, with eyes full of sc~ sad a reproach thaij, had he been capable of a generous impres SiO~, would have m~de him instantly contrite. 'But he was not capable of' the nobl ness of self-reproach A more cold, selfish, heartless nature, ne er dwelt in the breast of man, lie took his seat beside her, nd assumed his most conciliating manner. "Well, my child, you are better, and I am glad to see it; but you have quite too any chattering visitors. They will Only page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 VASCONSELOS. weary and distress you. The tongue of that silly wife is enough to madden any invalid, and there are others sort, who do not so much desire to soothe or amuse, er~ise their tongues and curiosity. What you want is pe~ quiet." "Peace and quiet! where am I to find them ?" "Why not? There is no reason why you should not fi~ if you are only moderate in your expectations. It is th1 sonable and extravagant hopes of youth alone that keep p~ quiet from any bosom." "Hopes! Do you really suppose that I entertain any "Indeed! Do you not? and why, if you entertain n do you encourage these painful and oppressive sensibili keep you only in a continual agony ?" "It is for this very reason, that I can entertain no ho these agonizing sensibilities are mine. But I surely nec this to you." "My dear child, do not deceive yourself. You do hopes and expectations, and it is these that keep alive a these moods and sensibilities. I know you better tha yourself. You may deceive yourself, in mom uts of with the idea that you have nothing to live for. But 'e be apt to put all these notions out of your hea . Yo so much better that you will soon have other vi itors." "Who! what mean you 2" "Your Portugii~sc cavalier will soon be here, no dou his knees before you. It is inevitable, after wh has ta that he will come and must. He has fairly co mitte in the eyes of the world; he will soon find it n cessar plete his progress by a formal offer of his hand" "And you think I will accept him ?" "Well; there is some danger of it. The ruth is child, you are not the mistress of your own a actions. too much enslaved your imagination to suffer y u to es You love him quite too intensely to reject his p ayer." '~ Alas! It is because I so much love him tkia I will ~ Tobar of like to cx.~ cc and ~d both, unrea- ~ce and ~ hopes, ics, that )es, that * not say entertainn Ld active you do solitude, ents will are now t, and oil ~en place, himself * to corn- my deal He ha~ ~ape 'him eject hin'i TIlE EVIL ENIIJS. 258 I may be deg aded, uncle-I am- nd you well know why I am, and who has degraded me ;-but I am not base! I will not sink lower in my wn esteem, in doing such a terrible wrong ~o a na- ture so nobl as that of the knig 4 of Portugal, by uniting his honor with y shame !" "Who kno s that there is any shame ?" "God !" "Ah! per saps! But you have no apprehension that he will be at any pai s to make it known ?" "I know ot that. Guilt is ever in danger of exposure. Shame is like the cloud, that, whether the star will or will not, rises at any our, with the winds, to blot its beautiful surface. But whether t e world knows or not-whether God permits the truth to be r sealed or not-alters not the case to me. It is enough that I know the terrible shame that hangs upon my soul like night. E ough, that I too much love Don Philip d~ Vas- conselos to bestow my consciousness of ignominy upon hi~n" "This is all ~nere sentiment, my child." "SentimentA But you speak as if you really desired that I should wed wii~h the knight of Portugal ?" "No! By ~atan, no! I hate, I loathe the man, and I love you, my child. Never, with my consent, shall you take him to your arms." "Why, then~ leave it to doubt? Why impose upon me the task which you yet think me too weak to execute? Forbid him the house-forbid him the quest-and put an end to all your ap- prehensions." "Would that process be effectual? No, no! my child, that will never answer. Our customs here, in Cuba, would not suffer 113. What would everybody say of me? It would wrap me in a thousand strikes and embarrassments. Besides, Don Philip de Vasconselos wo~ild not suffer any such evasion; and the Adelan- tado would sustain him in the assertion of the right to see you. No! no! he m~~st not be denied every opportunity, and the whole matter must be left to your own decision." "~at is already made! I can ~iever be tho wife of Don page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 2~4 VABCONSEL~S. Philip. Were I other than the thir~g I am, I sho 1 greater happiness. As I am, it is impossible that I of happiness, or should so wrong hi~n in my desir unit~ ~ny grief and shame to his honor and his fortu "And I repeat, you know not yourself. You strength for this. You mean as yoi~f say, no doubt, are comparatively calm, and when he is not present he appears, and you see him before you-at your will be your fine resolutions? You will yield. sent,-you will forget all your nice sentiments, an secret, and be happy!" "Leave me," she said calmly. "You do not kno less do you know how you annoy and humble me. you that you are secure in your wishes, whatever I cannot marry Don Philip; I wilt not; though I tell that I should know no greater secret of happiness tli this possible. You have doomed me to loss of all! now." "But you must take your medicine, Olivia." "I will take nothing at yo~ir hands." "Why not ?" "You have drugged me enough. I fear to drink most to breathe-knowing upon what poisons you I "This is foolish. On my honor, you have no .d kno hould for it, Leg." we flQ ow tha ~; but ou will keep ~r me. Enou iay be you fr~ [an this, Lear to ea ave fed hing P now." "Oh! if you asseverate so solemnly, I am sure there i~ ger! Take it away! I will not drink, though I pe ish." "Obstinate! I tell you, this is the potion pr ded I physician." "It has passed through your hands." "Am I poison ?" "Ay, death! worse than death! shame, horror, eli! I vex me ;-.leave me! I will trust you in nothing, I eli yoi it not enough that you have destroyed every hope; ~~iil torture me without a purpose ?" - hi h C no .nk - to the rou rien ere on our Still h for rune. akly, were ~ me al- me." fear dan- 2 C ythe not Is you t~lIEAMS OF 1lA1PIN]~SS. 255 "You are n~iad! Is it torture that I should give you the very medicine whi4i has heen prescribed for you ?" "I an-i not ~ure that it is the same! You have the art to alter the nature of ~ill things that approach me. You change the help- ful to the hurtful-the good to the bad. By the Holy Virgin, uncle, were it ~ot for the wrong that I should do to another, I should wed with the knight of Portugal, if only to find an avenger-to b~ sure of one to whom I might say-Slay me this monster, who has destroyed me, soul and body !" Don Ba1thaz~r hurled the cup of physic ~o the floor, and with a look of the fiercest anger, and a half-muttered curse, he strode hastily out of t~ie apartment. "Thank God I" said the poor girl as he disappeared, "I breathe more freely !" And she sunl~ into a long, sad revery; and the thought of Don Philip came to I~er, and brought with it fancies of the most. bi~ight and cheering feficity. She fancied him at her feet; she tho~igh; of herself in his arms. The world shut out, in the lone security of their mountain hacienda, she - said to herself-" Surely this is happiness,-.this is security and peace! And why," she asked of herself "should I not enjoy this peace, this 'security, this happi- ness? What haye I done that I should deny myself to live? Am I guilty of this crime-this shame? Is it mine? Am I not a wretched victim only of the toils, and the arts, and the superior powers of another? Have I, in my own soul, consented to this surrender of my innocence to' the spoiler? Wherefore should I suffer more? Rive I not suffered enough? Why should I not be happy with him I love, true to him ever, and never willingly false to Heaven or myself? It is a secret from all but one, this shame that is my sorrow; and that one, for his own. sake, dare not whisper it to the bird that flies! Alas! alas! my h9art, whither would you carry me? Would you have me abuse his noble trust for your pleasure? Oh! be still, lest in my weakness I commit a wrong as great as that which I have suf~ fered!" Such, in brief, were the prolonged meditations of the unhappy page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 VASQONSELO~ woman throughout the melancholy hours of her a litude. passion for Philip de Vasconselos was now perpet ally su ing to her mind fresh arguments against the virtue s reso which, in cooler moments, had been the conclusion f her th She felt that her resolution was growing momen ly m~r more weak; but still she combated herself; arg ed wil own thought, strove nobly against her heart, and all its innocent desires, and bewildered finally, and exha sted, sli rendered herself at last to the dreamiest revery, su h as nal occurs to the sensuous nature, in the delicious cli ate in she dwelt. In this revery, in which every breath as soft glance fair and wooing, every influence possessing he ma~ spell upon the affections, she found temporary efuge, that severe virtue which counselled nothing less t an self and sacrifice! Ah! who is strong for such a sacr ce whet passion of the dependent and loving nature wa s agab Will Olivia de Alvaro be able to keep her vow, hen Pt VasConSE'los bows before her? She trembles as sh thinks hut still-she thinks of it! Her thought everm e recul long wandering, to his expected coming! Will e com~ he iiot? Can he otherwise? And, should he co e,-an4 he comes,-then--Shall she find the strength to s y to hi part !"-And should he linger-should he deny o go- he ~ask"wherefore? "-what answer shall she mak ? Can I have no love to give in return, when she really as not her heart but love; for him? And if she canno , m trt from her heart say this, what plea shall justify h r denia prayer? It is thus that she begins to conjure , for .1 conscience, the difficulties which stand in the w y of h self.sacrifice. It is thus that the ingenious pass ons ar~ case with the honest thought. Which shall triu ph in t Olivia de Alvaro is a most weak, most loving ~voman- passionate, too, with -all the intense fires of t~he sout means nobly, her thought is rightly advised; an~ she w according to the dictates of a justly governed ~onscien when the passions strive, what mind is strong against t Her ;gest- ution ught. and i her * eally ~ sur- irally which every .c of a against 6lenial every st it! [lip de of it; ;, after ? will * when a should he say, iing in th, and of his er own ~r own iie the ~e end? -she is ~. She )uld act e; but, ieni THE STRUGGLE. 257 when the heart loves, with entire devotion, where are the thoughts which shall extinguish its glowing fires? As well say to the rising floods of ocean-." Sink back, with all your billows, and rest calmly in the bosom of your floods." The struggle between soul and heart, m the case of Olivia de Alvaro, is but begun. How will it end? verily, there is very good reason why Don J3al.. thazar should be apprehensive. Truly, he knows, better than his niece, how Ngreat is her weakness! But he will not leave her wholly alone, to fight the battle with her passions. He will frequently come mockingly to her succor, and, by torturing her pride into passion, will seek to subdue the force of other pas~ sions. He has all the subtlety of the serpent: will he use it successfully? It is very certain that he will spare no arts to defeat the hopes of the two young hearts, who, but for his evil working, had long since been rendered happy. page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] CHAPTER XXI. "Hold thee: there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggest ti thou tallest of: s~rve him still." ALL'8 WE] THE public sports which the Adelantado had pi gratification of the people of Cuba were all finally have not thought proper to describe the amusen lowed on the third day, however interesting to for the simple reason that they do not immediately edition of our dramatic personce. They still den sonal attendance of Don Baithazar de Alvaro, h der of the field; and this gave a little respite 1 Olivia in her solitude. We have already noted tween the niece and her uncle, after the third da' ment; but there was one event, occurring at t day, which it becomes us not to suffer to pass un the passage~-at-arms, of all sorts, were fairly trumpets had merrily sounded the signals for. ti the assembly-while the crowd, moving to and tions, resembled the shifting scenes of a panor thazar called to, him an officer, and, speaking asi4 "Has the slave, Mateo, been taken-the mc dor, whose capture I confided to thy hands ?" "He has not, Seflor. He has eluded all our "Thou hast suffered these sports to keep thee else, how should he escape thy search '?" "No, Se~ior-" "It must be so, I tell thee; for the fellow leave Havana so long as these amusements should be no places of hiding in the city whic 258 from t y ~LTuATE4 ~ ovided y endec tents wi ~he spe y affect. anded )wever, o the E ~n inter~ r of the Lie close noticed. over, ie disp fro in ~ le, said stizo, tl~ ~fforts." from ti is not last; a Li. shouT master im. 'o~ the .~We i4h fol- 1~tors; he con- h~ per- war- iffering iew be- tourna- of that After ~nd the rsion of Ll direc- on Bal- ~ mata- y duty; [J~ ely to there be be- THE AIJGtrAZIL. 259 yond the reach of a good officer! See to it! This night is all that is left thee to effect his capture, Half of these people will be off to the country by the dawn; he, probably, among them. Seek him at the tents and tables where they game. All of his class have a terrible passion for cards and dice. At the cock- pits he may be found. He hath possibly brought with him some favorite birds from the country. He drinks, too, with a rare passion, which will no doubt carry him to the shops where the aguardiente is to be had. Get thee a dozen of thy fellows, well counselled, who know the man, and set them on the quest for him in all these phees. If you take him, you shall all be well re- warded. If not, I shall endeavor to find officers who need no exhortation to their duty. There is no reason why he should not be found. He showed himself quite freely and fearlessly at the bull-fight, relying, I suppose, on certain changes of dress and costume. He is hardly in hiding any where, and, while in Havana, will no doubt be found at one or other of the places I have mentioned. Stint not your efforts, nor the numbers of your men, nor the needful money; and, if you take him, bring him to me at "the Grove;" at midnight, even; so that ye delay not after you have taken him. Enough! see to it, Diego, as you would be s5e of my favors. "Seijor, I will not sleep in this search." "Good! to it at once, for he will doubtless soon leave Havana for the mountains." The Hidalgo separated from the Alguazil, and both disap- peared from sight. Within the same hour Don Balthazar might be seen riding, on a famous black charger, towards the retreat, without the city, where the Seiiorita, his niece, maintained her solitude. It was but a little before this, that the very outlaw, the mestizo slave, Mateo, might have been seen, on foot, pursu- ing the same route. The latter had fairly entered the woods, when he heard the sound of hors~'s feet behind him. He im- mediately sheltered himself from sight in a dense thicket of bamboo, and, from his place of retreat, beheld the knight ride Slowly by. The outlaw grinned savagely as he perceived his old page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 9I~fl VASCONSELOS. THE OUTLAW. master, whom he remembered by numerous cr43lties, si that day, but too much distinguished the fierce warriorss when dealing with their Indian and negro slaves. e hay mentioned that Mateo was a fugitive; having fled not sin the cruelty of his master, but from the consequ nces ol crimes. He had murdered, in a sudden hroil, ne of ti of the estate of the Senorita Olivia, to which, md ed, he I the control of Don Balthazar over him result g only being the guardian of his niece. From that momei disappeared, having sought shelter in the conti uous ix which were, at that early period, entirely unex bred. been subsequently heard of; on several occasion .s, but o: character of a robber. A price had been set u on his he had always contrived to elude the pursuit~ of just mother, the old woman Anita, in the employ of Do zar, as we have seen, and the willing creature~ of his arts and practices, had not forborne to plead the cai son; and she probably wctuld have succeeded~ long I death, in procuring his pardon, could she have been su persuading Mateo to take ~he essential initiative~ in suc1~ by surrendering himself to the estate. But Mateq ready tAiicur such a peril, and distrusted all the ass~ the Don, whom he too well knew readily to coilfide in. the violent and brutal character of his passior~s kept tinually working against his own pardon, by t~e com.i new crimes and misdemeanors. Like all of h~s race, fond of the pleasures of the crowd, and such ~s wer~ by the exhibitions of the bull-ring and th tourr~ forego the temptation, at whatever hazard, of eing a the grand spectacles offered to the public by th magn Don Hernan de Soto. But Mateo relied u on his upon the shaggy hair, the wild beard, and the strange which he wore; and upon the fact of a three y ars' ab~ all the eyes that knew him. He felt himself sufficiently~ from all eyes, and did not doubt that even is mob fail to recognize her sofl. But he did too li tle jus1~ 261 nm c asi~ o Spain already p y from is own e officers e onged: mhis t, Mateo o ntains, e had 1 inthe clad, but c~. His Baltha~ iAfamous of hei e ore hei c~ssful ft a matter was nol races 01 1Be~ides him con 0. was to' pYomise ~r~ent, t tness 0 [fi ence 0 d sguiseS ~ costing e ce froi K strange E~r W~lil .c~ to ti keen sight and tenacious memory of Don. Balthazar. Of the death of the old woman, Mateo had learned nothing until he reached Havana, a few days before. But, in that time, he had seen his sister, the sullen girl, Juana, on several secret occasions; had heard all her tidings; had listened to all her complaints, and had decided upon the course to be pursued for attaining all necessary remedies for his own and her alleged wrongs. Of these remedies w~ shall learn hereafter. We need not say, per- haps, that he laug~ied at all the labors of his mother, in striving to procure. his foi~giveness, ~is a fugitive slave. He was one of those reckless persons, too savage for subjection, too indolent for toil, who prefer to appropriate the labors of others to the exer- cise of any of his own; and, by the strong .hand, or sleight of hand, contrived to extract a very comfortable living out of a world which he thought good for nothing else. Now that he was in Havana, he was resolved to bring about the settlement of all his affairs in that city; and his own and sister's accounts~ promised to employ him actively for a time. His old master was his chief debtor; and, that he did not emerge from his bamboo shelter, and insist upon immediate payment, while the knight was passing, was simply because he thought it very possible that I2~on Balthazar did not carry a sufficient amount in funds about with him, to enable him to make satisfactory settlement. It would have been, otherwise, quite as easy to spring out from his hiding-place upon the Don, as, from the corridor into the bull-ring, giving the coup de grace to El .Aforo! The knight was suffered to proceed in safety to his house, whither Mateo followed more slowly, and not until the darkness had fairly covered the hacienda. We shall suffer several hours to elapse with out reporting their events; but we must suppose that they have not been suffered to pass unemployed either by the Hidalgo or the outlaw. Nay, we beg to state that both parties have heen busy, though we do not just now care to go into a narrative of their several doings. Enough, that towards midnight Don Balthazar ceased from his labors for the night; and in his chamber, with his dressinggown about him, and his limbs released in some degree from the gar- page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 VASCONSELOS. merits worn throughout 'the day, he rests at lengt upon settee of bamboo, and meditates through, the g aceful ( aromatic smoke that ascend volume after volum from I beloved cigar. Don Baithazar, though somew at b1a~ not wholly insensible to the good things of th s life, only of the physical enjoyments. Indeed, it is to t chiefly that the "creature comforts~' rise into aramor and estimation. It is when the purer tastes and the pi sires of the mind have been perverted, or abused, or one seeks recompense by appeals to appetites hich, uI are kept in honest subjection. Don Balthazar did not his cigar wholly for' his happiness; a flask o .gener4 rested on a table beside him, from which, ever nd aric plenished his goblet. He emptied it, perhaps, uch mc than he was aware. The troubles of his mind ade h what unconscious of the frequency of his potations, effects working favorably upon his mood, seeded to j appetite in still further ~seeking succor' from t is sour Balthazar had survived all the proper taste His were wholly artificial. His tastes had become pint passions had been succeeded by mere desires d ~pendin~ diseased fancies. These, as chronic, always e ert a power over their possessor, and compel him t~ pursuit jects which, in calm moments, seem wholly u4deservr effort. A thousand times did the mei4 reason a d com: of the knight counsel him to throw oil' habits rid des were equally evil and profitless; but in vain. A singi of dreaming revery brought back tIlie tyran ous fan their power. The cigar, the wine,-these were potent though unsuspected, in behalf of his evil mood ; and longer seconded the suggestion of his bet ~r mo: would be doing him great injustice to say that lie didi edly deplore the weaknesses of his nature, and the crii cruelty of which it was the source. But his strengthh strength in behalf of virtue. It was the~ strength of e~ only-of passions arriving at ~o1e power by ~~eason c icker .o ds of is much , is yet p aking te blaze ri value I per de- ost, that til then, rely on' us wine i, he re-1 r freely some. ri their .s ify the! e Don a petitesi e t; his pon his y annous~ ~ and obi ~g of an~ ~ omen~ 4 s in a1~ n fences, 1i will 14 a rits. It repeat i and the as not ~ [1 passio1~S heir uiii. CONSCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY. 2 ~38 scrupulous exercise, and in their dying embers exerting a and more evil sort of influence in consequence of their very 4e- cay and feebleness. He knew, and felt, and reproached himself at moments for his terrible abuse of authority and advantage the case of his unhappy niece. He was sometimes made con- scious of the awful spectre of his deceased brother, looking do~i~ upon him with loathing and anger, and the saddest reproach his face; sometimes he fancied his voice in his ears, and at other times he beheld suddenly, as it were, a glimpse of the fier e visage of "the Biscayan mother" of Olivia, flaming with indign tion, before his eyes. His conscience thus, at times, came to t e assistance of his better reason, and filled him with virtuous res - lution. But it is not easy for one accustomed for thirty yea s to give the full reins to his moods and passions, to re-conqu r them and recover the ascendency of thought and will over habi. Habit is the most unbending of all mortal tyrannies, and the better genius of Don Baithazar struggled, vainly against the 4.. petites which he had so constantly fed in its despite. And nob, when some better feelings were endeavoring to assert themselves~ in his bosom-when a lingering feeling of commiseration for th~ poor child whom he had so cruelly abused had prompted him reflections upon his own selfishness, which, seeking a m.omentar~ and even mocking gratification, was destroying the very life of~ hope in the bosom of the girl-destroying her peace for ever, anc~ all the gladdening impulses which make youth happy-he harden ed himself against the kindlier impression by a recourse to soni~ of those hard philosophies, which, in his case, had already over~ thrown all the authority as well of humanity as religion. "What matters it," said he to himself; filling his goblet with fresh supply from the wine-flask,-" what matters it in the end~ These passions of love are in fact nothing but the caprices of fancy; a brief space will reconcile her to the loss of this knight of Portugal, whose youth, grace, and noble bearing are the only attractions; when he has fairly embarked for Florida she will forget him, and she will then remember me with as much tender- ness as any other lover. She will feel that, though I have page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 VASCONS~LOS. wronged her, it was because of my passion that I did sc my love will justify in her mind the exercise of th~ power I had upon her. If not, what is she but a woman, created pleasure and the delight of man; and why should she no ister to my delight as well as to another? Women, i treated, kindly, and without neglect, readily recon~Ale then to the condition from which they cannot escape. She wi] after consent willingly to that which she has 'vainly thot oppose; and in the necessity of her case will become a~ what is grateful in it. Already, I think, she begins to in She grows milder every day. For a week shd has ex none of those fitful bursts of passion which she inherited that tigress mother; and her eyes,4hough they ~till lool and reproachfully, show no longer that fierce hate and 1 which distinguished them before. She grows pliant- yielding. Let me but baffle this knight of Portugal, an5 her wholly in my power. He must depart. She mus his petition; and if not, then I must find a way to siler forever." Don Balthazar deceived himself in one thing. The r of Olivia's present aspect was scarcely in proof that she ~ more reconciled to his power than before. We may say place, that she was schooling herself to a more cunning ~ that she was opposing art to art, and was never more r against her uncle, than at the moment when she appear resigned to her fate. Her game was to lull to sleep his by appearing more submissive. She was resolved to es~ his tyranny as soon as she might hope to do so with safe yet, however, she had formed no deliberate plan for doing had vague projects and purposes in her mind, ill-~I1efined less at present; but, in any scheme, to quiet* hi~ suspic disarm his vigilance, were the first objects, necessary to cess of any other. These, in the end, might ripen into so definite and clear, and in the meantime, her policy wa~ and thus far evidently successful. Don Baltha~ar was with a struggle which brought only fear and exhaustion e' and hich 'o the mm- well s~1ves ere- g t to aeof p ove. gbited from adly thing -he is have reject ~e him Lildness as now in this olicy- solved, 4 Tuost i~ilance p from y~ As 4 She r41 aim- o ~s and suc- nething single, '~tigued e with MATEO AND JUANA. ~65 its successes; and was quite willing to believe in the shows of resignation, on the part of his victim, by which he hoped to en- joy more easy triumphs. As thus he lay, weaving conjectures, and hopes and doubts in he most intricate meshes for his own fancy, he Was surprised by a sud- den and most unexpected visitor. But it becomes us to speak of the proceedings' of this visitor, before we formally introduce im to our HidalgQ. We have seen that the fugitive, Mateo, was on his way, pursuing a like rout~ with Don Balthazar, when the p~ pearance of the latter drove the outlaw into shelter. He saw s ancient master speed forward, and followed him at his leisu e. A little after nightfall, stationed in a lemon thicket near the dw 11- ing, Mateo gave a signal whistle, and in a few minutes after, ~~as joined by the servant girl, Juana. She was his sister; and, rude and' sullen in her intercourse with all other persons, on him s~hc bestowed nothing but tenderness and affection. Her whole de- portment and character seemed to change on their meeting. ~e clung fondly to his neck; kissed him repeatedly; called him her dear brother, and' would have continued her transports, had me not, with a sort of good-natured violence, 'shaken her off. "That will do, that will do, Juana. There's no time now r kissing and foolishness. I have come for work. What can e done? Is there a good chance? Is there anybody in the hou e, any man body I mean, besides Don Balthazar ?" "No! nobody! There's my young lady, and the old houn~1, Sylvia; and there's the cook and Pedro; but she's in the kitch eia, and Pedro is gone off somewhere. There's nothing to prever~t, now." "Well, you must show me a way to get in, and come suddenly upon the old woman. The master's in his room, eh ?" "Yes, he's planning some more wickedness, all to himse f~ Even if Sylvia was to cry out, he could hardly hear where he i~; and you needn't go near him at all." "Ay, ay; but I must go n~ar him. I've got some accounts t~ settle with*him, now I'm here." "Don't trust yourself with him, dear Mateo. He's got arms 12 page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 266 VASCO~SEL0S. in room; matchlocks and guns, and sharp, bright s~ He's never unprepared for mischief; and if he sets eyes ci he'll shoot you." "If I don't shoot him: but that's a game that two can p just as well as one; and I hope to take him by surprise. I try to do so. Do n't you fear. I have arms too, just as 'vi he, and I know just as well how to use them; and I'm not of his wickedness. I've got some of my own." "And you will get all the things of poor mainmy'?" "Won't leave a hair for the old hag that robbed you. shall have everything. I'll have them carried off and hid for you, where you can get them when you want them." "But you will carry them with you to the mountains, M "And how will you get the use of them there'?" "Why, ain't I to go along with you, brother'?" "You go along with me'? to the mountains'? Why would you do there, poor child'?" "Why, live with you, and take care of your home for ~ "Home !" with a fierce chuckle. "I have no home. never a week in one place together. I pass from mc to mountain; and hide in oi~e cave after another; and go sorts of weather; and~ sleep twenty nights under the op where I sleep once in a human cabin. The outlaw has no no place where he can sleep in safety; except where tI beast keeps watch for him along the mountain-top, and fri off the pursuer.~~ "I don't care, Mateo! I am not afraid'! I want to ~ you wherever you go, and I'll live with you, and work fi and fight for you, too ;'just us if I were a man and not a W * "Well, I suppose you can fight; you've got the stren it, and I reckon you're not afraid; but-" "And I may go with you'?" eagerly. "No, Juana, child. Not just .yet. I'll come for you ever I'm ready for you, and can fix you in some certain p "Oh I but I do so want to get away from tl&i8 place don't know what I suffer. It's only a week ago that m beat me with his whip aver my face and shoulders." ords. you, y at iust [1 as 'raid a MA.TEO'S ADVICE. 267 "Pooh! Pooh! what of that! Do you suppose if you Kvere with me, I shouldn't beat 'you too when you deserved it ?" "'But I didn't deserve it, Mateo." "Oh! that's all nonsense. Women always deserve a v~rhip~ ping, and' should get it once or twice a week to keep 'em sensible and proper. You don't know when you're well off. With ~me, you'd want bread often enough; and there would be no sa4ty. You'd have to start out of your bed at midnight, to fly, when you hear the bloodhounds barking up the hills. It's sometimes monstrous hard for me to get off. How would it be with y~u? You'd be caught by the dogs. You'd be torn to pieces; or I'd have to risk my own life to save you. Then, if you fell into ~he hands of the hunters, you'd be a thousand times worse off than ever. They'd send you to the Calabooza, and sell you to a h~rd master, who'd put you into the fields, and whip the blood out of your body, and the Ver~y heart out of your bosom. You'r w~ ll off as you are. You've got a good mistress, and a comfortalzjle place, and plenty to eat and drink. But the master beats you, you say. Well, once in a way, perhaps he does; but that d o~s you no harm. I'd have to beat you ten times as much, Juan~i, if you were with me. 'Twould be for your good, I'd do it. I'~l know you wanted it; I know you of old. You'd be the lat person in the world to try and quit this place, if it hadn't spoiled you. You've been treated too well here; 'that's the whole of~ You're best off where you are; I know all about it. I'd ha been better off at the hacienda from which. I ran awa ,but thai~ I Was a bad fellow, who couldn't be satisfied anywhere, and wouk~ rather steal than work. It's easier to me, and I feel etter Mtei~ it. But I know it's not the best thing for me; and I know it~ would be the very worst thing for you. It's because I love you as my sister, Juana, that I'd rather you'd stay witji the Seflorita, and be honest and quiet. She's good to you, I ktww. No! No! you cannot go with me. Just now, you'd only be in my way, and in the way of danger and all sorts of trouble. But I hope Soon to ~get a safe hiding-place, and then, ~f you'r ready and You way what lam Attain all ti sky, 1~ome, e wild ~htens with you, an." r1~h for a vhen- You Lord page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 VSCONSE~LOS. willing, I'll take you off. For the present you must keep v you are." It was in this way that the outlaw answered the entreati4 his sister. He, no doubt, came to a right conclusion on th ject. But she was not satisfied, and submitted sullenly authority with which she had-never been accustomed to co " But," she added, as a last argument,-"it's not the Se only ; she's to be married, they say, and there's to be master." "Well: he won't eat you! There can't be any wors Don Balthazar ; and no master in the world will hurt the that sefves him faithfully. He'd be a fool to do it." " But I don't like a new master ; and I donit like to be a master that's a Portuguese." " Ho ! it's orie of the Portuguese that she is to Well, if it's the one that tumbled the handsome cavalier, I de Tobar, she'd be well ~officered. He's a noble soldier, rant-rides a horse, and handles a lance, as if he was m c nothing else. If I were sure that Don Balthazar would 4 to the country of the Apalachians, I'd volunteer to go same knight's company. But if he went, he'd be sure me out in time. I could serve such a man as the Port ~ and cheerfully acknowledge him my master. Every think, is born to have a master, and is never quite happy t finds the right one. I like this knight of Portugal. I d what you've got to be afraid of if he marries your lady." " Ah !" said the girl stealthily,-" he'd never marry A r only knew what I know." "What do you know ?-But if it's any harm of her, don't sgy it, for your life. The Senorita, you say, has' been good to you. Don't you turn upon her like a snake. up, and keep her secrets, as if they were your own." "Well, it ain't so much her secret as my Lord's ! Oh!. if yuknew what born devil he is, and how h' i poor young lady-murdering her very soul and body !'" " Ha !" exclaimed the outlaw, musingly-" Ha !" 268 re of ~nd. ~rita iew han ave ider rry ! uno war- e for t go this find uese, an, I 'll he 't see if he uana, [ways Hush light seemed to dawn upon him; n epueadli i hand upon Juana's shoulder. and see!o' ousd, a woidhi more ! Don Balthazar-but no sater. ShDown'e lowa ho o muzzle this old hag, Sylvia.''" mte.Sowm o ot In a few moments, the two had disperditnthdwl ing.., sapaewihntedl. new A StJtI~fl~ TIIOUG~T 2&Q page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] CHAPTER XXII. "Here be rare plottings. There's more mischief in that one head, and that oily t than in all the country." Tim PAinn nyue, SYLvIA, that arch beldame, as Juana esteemed her, in th ov- ereignty of her domain, below stairs, was, at this moment, the enjoyment of her highest felicity. She had a good suppe be- fore her; her toils of the day were ended, and she was co rat- ulating herself upon the ease and security with which she uld command all the comforts which were necessary to the cre t re. Supper over, she would sleep, and the dreams that. uld follow might reasonably be expected to be all very pleasan~ es. But Fortune plays fine tricks with human securities, an the Fates are always busy to thwart pleasant anticipations; m ing no sort of difference between those of the nobleman and those the drudge. Humble as was Sylvia s secret of happiness, it w des- tined to disappointment; and care nQstled in the cup, the ate- ful beverage of which she was about to carry to her lips, this very moment, the cruel and capricious fortune, in the asp ~t of the mestizo, Mateo, stood quietly behind the old woman, pre ared to cast the sack over her head. Suddenly she felt a rude gripe of huge, strange fingers about her throat, utterly denyi her the privilege to scream ;-almost to breathe I Hardly h d she been thus surprised, when a shaWl was passed about her jaws, effectually shutting out the supper, and just as effectually s cutting in all sound. She strove desperately to shriek, but the voi e died away in a hoarse but faint gurgling in her throat. She was in the hands of an adroit enemy. Mateo was dexterous in his ye tion. He had enjoyed some practice in his outlawed life. The ~ es of the old woman were soon enveloped in another bandage, d as 270 THE HEIRS TAKING PO~SES$IoN. 271 completely denied to see, as her mouth to speak or swallow. A stout cord was then passed about her arms, and thus rendered hors 'lit combat, she might be trusted safely. Every obstack~ was thus removed from the way of the conspirators, and Mateo now gave the signal for the appearance of Juana, who, till this mo- ment, had kept in the background. She was not long in s~ow- ing herself. Mateo, in the meanwhile, coolly took his place at the table which bore the supper of Sylvia, and his appetite bein~ in- vigorated, we may s4pose, by long abstinence and previous toils, he proceeded to its demolition in a manner which would I~ave shocked the true proprietor, could she have seen. She suspected no doubt what was in progress, but there was no remedy. She had to submit with as much resignation as she could command. Meanwhile, Juana was otherwise busied .in making inquest into the secrets of the prison-house. Mateo soon joined her, and the leading purpose of the conspirators was soon made apparent. There were closets thrown wide, and boxes torn open. All~the goods and chattels, the accumulations of old Anita, to whichSyl- via had so quietly succeeded, were brought out from their hid- ing-places. One may conjecture the variety of treasures which had been accumulated by both these ancient beldames, in- the course of half a century of peculation. B~it the details must be left to conjecture. Our purpose is not a catalogue. Mateo and Juana were equally busy. The latter knew where to look, and the former how to secure. His machete did good service in forci~ig open boxes; and every sack whiclA could be found, was appro- priated to the compact accumulation of the scattered treasures. Slung upon the broad, strong shoulders of the outlaw, they dis- appeared one by one; transferred, in brief space, from the house to the adjoining woods, where, it seems, the mestizo haa season- ably provided a sort of cart for their better conveyance to other hiding~places. The work was done by a practiced hand, and very effectually; / Sylvia could readily conjecture what was going on, but she was* only able to groan and grieve internally. She did not remain passive, however, and rose up, blinded and muzzled, and cord~d page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] 272 VASOONSELOS. as she ~vas, with more than one effort to interfere. It was ( by one or two emphatic exhortations from the heavy fists I outlaw, that she was persuaded of the better policy of submi I without farther struggles, to her-fate. Supposing this work to be fairly over, and Mateo in full session of all his mother's chattels; perhaps of others also which that amiable woman could never assert any claim, th~ law found it becoming to transfer his attentions to another household. His next work was with the master. We have seen that Don Balthazar de Alvaro was dispo4 indulge in a somewhat meditative mood; one, however, in conscience was allowed to play only a subordinate part to ophy. The pleasant fumes of the cigar, the grateful poten~ the wine-flask, the genial sweet~aess of the climate~ had tog~ as we have seen, induced finally a very grateful condition z~I ery, in which tl~e thoughts of the mind accommodated them~~ with a rare condescension, to the humors of the body. Th sult was a condition of complacent happiness, which was'st4i of all apprehensions. There were no clouds in his sky, th~ could perceive; and for the troubles of his hearth, it was uprising how slight they seemed, and how soon they were perused, as he meditated his good fortune, his own resources brought the energies of his will to bear upon the future. I only to get Philip de Vasconselos out of his path ;-and fo object he had several schemes, even if the love-sick damsel & fail to assert her virtuous resolution to reject him ;-to get ( out to her plantation, and under proper surveillance there then for the gold regions of the Apalachian, and one or twc paigns. His ambition was not asleep during all these specula His appetites demanded free floods of gold; he required c~ red men for ~laves; he had fancies of royal favor, and did n why he, too, should not become the Adelantado of newly-d ered and treasure-yielding provinces, It is rarely that am is satisfied with a single field of conquest. It throws out tennce in all directions; it grasps wide, right and left, and for all the fish in the sea; is as eager after power as m nly the ing, p05- to out- the d to 'hich ilos- ~r of Lher rey~ ives, re- pped .t he sur- dis- and was this iould )livia and cam- tions. .ptive t see scow Ation ts afl~ baits mey; THE REVERY DISTURBED. ~73 after slaves as conquest; after love, or lust, as in the soul-sttirv- ing search after gold. Don Baithazar, reclined on his cane sofa, head thrown back, cigar in mouth, and wine-flask at his elbc~w, was in the enjoyment of a great variety of very grateful antici- pations. How the coldest and sternest of men may becofne dreamers, it is scarcely necessary to insist, with the experienced reader. It was the very moment when his dreaming mood was m~st active, and most serenely secure in the possession of the m9st teeming fancies, that Mateo, the outlaw, chose for appearing[in the presence of the knight. Now, we must do the mestizo ~he justice to say that it was no part of his design to disperse tue pleasant fancies of the Don, or to overthrow the castles of delight and strength which his imagination was erecting. To Mateo~ it would be of no sort of moment, how wildly, or how pleasantly, the knight might dream. He might smile contemptuously upon such employment, but that he should deliberately set him- self in hostility to the worker for their overthrow, is really not to be thought of. Bad fellow as he undoubtedly was, Mateo was not so malicious. He had very different, and more sol~d purposes. If, in his prosecution of these, the dreams of Don Balthazar happened to be dispersed, the evil was unintended; and, we have no doubt, if properly apprised of what he had uh- wittingly done, he would have expressed his devout contrition. Certainly he little conjectured of what a golden domain he dis- possessed his ancient master in the course of a very little spa~e of time. Mateo entered the apartment of the Hidalgo without disturl5- ing his revery. He did not enter, after the fashion of ordinary visitorss , through the door. Mateo was no ordinary outlaw. Not that he preferred the more laborious process of ascending a column of the verandah and climbing in through the window. But simply because the door was bolted on the inside. DoA Balthazar was a man of precautions-a politician who knew that reveries were not properly to be enjoyed, unless with all reasons- able securities first taken. That he left his window unfastened~ 12* / page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] ~274 VA~CQNSELOS. which opened upon the verandah, was simply to admjt the br eze, and he never once fancied that his reveries could render him oblivious to the approach of any less light-footed visitor. lie was mistaken. Mateo made his way in, without disturbing his sense of security. Not that he was not heard. Don Bait azar was sejisible to the rustling of the orange-tree beside the v ran- dah; he heard the branches scrape rather roughly upo the column. But that might be occasioned by the puff of wind that smote just then gratefully over his brow and bosom; a~d so believing, his eyes were shut, and the thick volume of s~noke went up from his cigar,~increasing in mass as the exciting yision ~of future lordships in Florida rose before his imagination. On a sudden he was awakened to full consciousness. His atmosphere grew heavier. It seemed as if his fancies founc~ ~some obstruction, and could no longer spread their wings as fre4ly as before. He felt as if there were some antagonist influence ~n his sky, which had suddenly darkened all his bright stars. An~ this consciousness certainly preceded the opening of his eyes.~ He had not yet opened them, when his ears were saluted w4h the tones of a strange speaker, and in language well calcu1a~ed to startle and drive him from his world of visions. "Well, I must say, your Excellency, that you are very com- fortable here.'' We have preferred putting the patois of our mestiz~ into tolerably correct language, taking for granted that the i'eader will readily suppose that there were certain differences between the speech of the outlaw and his superior. This will sufi~Ice for expJanation. We have no taste for that sort of literature which makes the vulgar speak viciously, when what they have ~o say can as well be said in tolerable phrase and grammar. Don Balthazar forgot to smoke. The cigar dropped fr~nn his opening lips. His eyes enclosed. His head was partly ~raised. Never did visage more express ~onfpunding wonderment. There, quietly seated on the settee directly opposite, was the ~utlaW, whom he had given it in charge to his alguazib to arrest. How caine he there ~ Was he not in bonds? Were the algu~~zils in AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 275 waiting? They had probably taken the fugitive, and were at hand. All these conjectures, and many others, passed through the brain of the Hidalgo in a single moment of time. But they were dismissed as rapidly as conceived. The outlaw h4d no appearance of constraint. He looked rather like a conqueror than a captive. There were no chains about his body or his wrist. Never sat mortal so perfectly at his ease, his great bulk covering half of the slight cane settee of which he had taken pos- session. There was a good-natured mockery, too, in his face, that betrayed no sense of inconvenience. It was evident~ at a second glance, that he was not only n6 prisoner, but not a~are, himself; of any risk of becoming one. There was a great knife in his belt, conspicuous, which the eyes of Don Balthazar fastened upon. It was the very weapon with which the matador had slain the bull. The Don began to feel uneasy. "Who i~ that?" he inquired; though he need not have done so; for he knew the intruder the instant he set eyes upon h~m. "Don't your Excellency know ?" "No !-who?" "Your Excellency has a bad memory for old acquaintance. Don't you remember Mateo, that once belonged to the estate of Don Felix?" "You?" "Yes, Selior, the same! I was a bad fellow, you know, and wouldn't work. Work don't suit me. If it hadn't been for that, I'd have kept on the estate forever, for I rather liked the place, and the living was very good. But it's too hard to have to work for the bread one eats, and I always preferred to take it where I could get it without work. I don't object to other people doing all the work they can. It's necessary, perhaps ;--some mu~t do it, indeed, where all must feed; but I am for leaving it to those that like it. I don't like it, and as long as I can get my bread~ without digging for it, I'll do so." " You killed Pedro Gutierrez'?" "Exactly: because he would make me wt)rk! It was all his fault. I warned him that I wouldn't work; that it didn't agree page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] * 276 me;, t~iat I VASCONSELOS. blows like it. He tried to force me, and followed; and he got the worst of them. If he was kille , he brought it on his own' head." "You are a murderer, and an outlaw." "Good words, your Excellency,-good words! What's th~ use 0f fouling your Excellency's mouth with bad ones? I don't care much about words at any time; but sometimes they make me angry. I don't want to be angry now, as I'm in a special good bumor, and there's no need to quarrel with old acquaintance. I have not seen you so long that it does me real good to look upon you. Your Excellency don't seem to be much changed. There's a little more of the salt in your hair, 'your Excellency, and it shows a little in your beard, now that you let it grow so long. You should use some of our black root die, which will make the hair as young as when you were only twenty!" The blood of the knight was boiling in his veins. But he tried to be cool, and with great apparent calmness, said- "Do you know, Mateo, that if you are once taken you will be garoted without trial ?" "One must take the tiger, your Excellency, before you can araw his teeth." "But they will take you! You cannot resist a dozen men-. a troop-an army. Now, I happen to know that you have been heard of in Havana, and that the alguazils are in search of you." "Ah! well'! They will hardly look for me here, your Excel- lency, and I shall not be here very long. I shall soon be off for 1~he mountains. Meanwhile, I must take my choice. Aighazils ~re very fine trencher men, but scarcely of much account where the only feed is steel and bullet. I shall probably escape from these of Havana." "But what brings you here now?" "Well, you're something concerned in the affair, though per. haps you don't know it. I heard of the death of my poor another , Anita -.--." "Ah! y~s; true, s~e was your rriothe~." SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 277 "I rather think your Excellency ought to know, since you've been promising the old woman to get me pardoned for a long time past. I suppose you had good reasons for not keeping your promise." "Yes; your mother knew. I told her that no pardon was possible until you should come in." "Very clear, your Excellency; and' noW that Pve come in, you tell me that t~he algua7ils are already looking after m~, and that I shall be garoted if caught. How do the two stories tally, your Excellency ?" "To come in and surrender, is quite a different thing from coming in as you do now.~~ fJ~r Perhaps so; but it don't matter much any way. As my surrender, your Excellency, before I have the pardon und~r the seal of the king's governor, it's not to be talked of; it's so fool- ish." "Then what brings you now? " "Ah! I was tellir~ you. My mother died, your Excellency; very suddenly, nobody knows how. I hear that she was poisoned, Senior." "From whom do you hear this?" "That's not necessary to be said. She was poisoned, and I have to find out the poisoner and settle with him "-here he handled h's machete. "It's his blood or mine, your Excelle~icy2' This w s said with significant emphasis, and such a look as ~showed t e Don that he himself was the object of suspicion. "But s ppose she was poisoned by a woman "Then it's only a little harder upon my conscience, and I must use a sm ller knife than this. But what woman, your Excel- lency ?" "Nay, do not know by whom the deed was done. I have a suspicion nly." "Your Excellency's suspicions are like to be as good as another man's evi ence: Was it the woman Sylvia ?" "No, I think not; and as I suspect only, I cannot say." "The thing must be found put, your Excellency. I am n~t the page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 VASOO~SEL0S. TILE BARGA1N~. 279 man to let my mother be baited, like a dog we hate, with poison- e4 beef. Your Excellency will find it necessary to give me help in this discovery. You have not done right by me. You let this woman Sylvia take possession of all my mother's property." "Property! Why, what property had your mother? She was a slave I" "Yes, by the laws, I know; but your Excellency knows I don't mind laws, and have my own. Now, I have already taken possession of all my mother's property97' "The devil you have !" "Exact~ly; I took possession just an hour ago. I tied up the old hag below-" "You have not murdered the woman * "No! Only tied her up, hand and tongue. You will find her after I am gone rather stiff in her limbs~ and feeling the want of her supper, which I have eaten. The goods I have carried* off already, and the plunder, were worth having, I assure you. There will be fine sights of treasure in the mountains when I get back." The knight grew more and more uneasy. The cool insolence of the outlaw was almost intolerable. He looked about him with impatience, and his eyes turned involuntarily to the wall upon which he had hung his sword and dagger. To his surprise, they were gone. How had they been taken away? It was evi- dent that Mateo had been in the chamber already that night, or some emissary; and he found himself completely in the power of the ruffian. Pon Balthazar did not lack for courage; but the gigantic frame of his companion discouraged at a glance the mo- mentary impulse which he felt suddenly to spring upon and grapple with him; and he now gazed upon the person whom he feared with an eye of vacancy. Mateo seemed to read his thoughts. He had followed his glance to where the weapons had been wont to hang, and divined his feelings. The outlaw laughed securely, with a bold, honest chuckle of security and triumph. "'Twont do, your Excellency; the game's in my hand. I could strangle you in a moment, and slit your pipe before you could make any music out of it. But that's not what I want to do. I'll the old have my I've got now of t --but wi The ki "I cer and that "Han feet. "Sit ~ hand to] when hot "Do y "Oh! moment my pard( I please. festa, hec "You "Exac I liked th still if I only to estate of "Dem "Very "Put t "Not c can't do a rule to se is either t not becai~ proud; a] not be hard upon you; that is, if it is not by you that woman was poisoned. I don't say 'twas you, but I thoughts. I know you deal in poisons sometimes, and a trail to some of your secrets. What do you think ae Seiiorita, the Lady Olivia ? She's a beauty, I ~tnow; iat do you think ?" Light winced. ;ainly think with you. She is a beauty." Don Balthazar, what a pity it is that you are her uncle, ~rour hair is so salty !" ye, Mateo !" said the Hidalgo, suddenly rising to his own," cried the outlaw imperatively, and putting his ds knife. "You can talk, and I can hear just as well Ii of us sit." ou think I mean to harm you ?" no! that you can't. I could settle your accounts in a but don't want the trouble of it. I want you to g~t n, I tell you, for I want to be free to come and go where I am sometimes cut off from a good bull-fight and a ause of the trouble with the alguazils." vant a pardon, do you ?" bly; and something more, your Excellency. I said that ~ sort of living at the old estate, and I should like it had no work to do. Now, what I w~ant of you is not ~et me a pardon, but to make me overseer for the the Sefiorita." )nios! What more does your modesty require ?" little after that." he wolf to take care of the sheep, eh ?" uite so bad as that, your Excellency. The fact is, you better thing for the interests of the estate. It's a goqd a thief to catch a thief; and the man that won't work co lazy or too knowing. Now, your Excellency, it's se I'm lazy that I won't work. It's because I'm too Ld I'm too proud because I'm too knowing. I can page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 ~VA8CONSELOS. make others work, and I know as well as any man how the work ought to be done. Try me, and you shall see. If you had tried me before instead of putting a blind bull over me, you'd have done better, and Pedro Gutierrez would never have had his skull opened suddenly, to his great disgrace showing that he had no brains in the shell. Many a man don't do, and won't do, because the right work is not given him, and the right confidence. Now, do you try me, and you'll see what I can do. Make me your overseer, get my pardon made out with the royal seal, and give my sister to live with me, and you will find Mateo as faithful as a dog. Refuse me, and you keep me the tiger and the outlaw that you have made ~ Rapid were the thoughts which coursed through the knight's brain. The philosophy of the outlaw began to strike him favor. ably. He reflected-" This fellow can be bought. He will do~ any service in return for these things. He will strike my foe, as coolly as butcher smites ox; he will obey my finger with- out questioning. I leave for Florida. Olivia retires to the ha. cienda. There, he is supreme in my absence. Ah! well! I see 1" Then aloud: "'Pon, my soul, Mateo, you are moderate in your wishes. But suppose I comply with them ~ "It will be wise!" "Perhaps so! But are you prepared to show your ~devotion to him who will ck for you all this ?" "Am I prepared to make a profitable bargain ~" "Suppose there be a hateful serpent in my path ?" "I will put my heel upon his head !" "Suppose there be a wolf in my dose ?" "I will put my knife across his throat I" "A mad bull, fierce as El Moro, and as strong 'I" "Here is the very machete that slew El Moro !" "It shall be done! Fill yourself a cup of wine, and we will speak farther of 'this matter. We understand each other. It is a bargain between us!" CHAPTER XXIII. "This day is ominous, Therefore, come back." TnoiLUS AzND C~memwA, IT will not ~e difficult to conjecture what werethe terms which Don Balthazar w~s prepared to make with the outlaw, or the character of t e services which the latter was to ~render, by which to se- cure the pa~do~ which he desired and the office which he claimed. The night ~aw, in the appearance of Mateo, the means by which to r lieve himself from all danger at the hands of Philip de Vas.. cons los. e was one of those persons who readily adapt the tool o their uses which offers itself most readily to their hands; and aw, at glance, in what way the outlaw could promote his purp ses. e are not now to be told that he was a man of few scru les wh n he was eager for his objects; his fears and virtues equally faiii~g to suggest considerations of doubt to a very ductile conscience. Strange to say, the conditions which he demanded of the outlaw, were not so readily accepted by this person. Mateo was tiot without his own rude virtues. He had been im- pressed wit~ the knightly graces and ~yalor of Vasconselos-had seen with d~dight his wonderful skill in the tournament, and had hailed his ~uccesses as if he shared in them. Besides, he was aware of th~ isolation of the Portuguese cavalier,'and well knew the reluctance with which the Spaniards had acknowledged his su- periority. iMlateo had too little of the Spanish blood in him to feel with th m, and adversely to one whose isolation so much re- minded him of his own; and he gave him his sympathies on this account, as ell as because of his valiant bearing. But he was a person in situation which did not suffer him to withstand the tempter; a d, though slowly and reluctantly, he, at length, yield- (281) page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282 VASCONSELOS. ed to the temptation. He was bought by the promise of' par. to become the as- don, and the hope of reward; and consented sassin of the knight of Portugal. That night lie confided the whole secret to his sister, Juana, expecting her to be gratified with an arrangement which promised him security and trust, and freedom to herself. But he was confounded to find that she saw the affair in a very different aspect. "Don't you believe Don Balthazar, my brother!" said the girl. "He has some snare for your feet. It was because you had him in your power that he made this bargain with you. He keeps terms with no one; and I am only afraid that he throws dust in your eyes, while he puts the alguazils upon your foot- steps! Besides, you dc~&t know what a noble gentleman this knight of Portugal is." "Don't I, then? Haven't I seen him with lance and sword; on horse and foot; and do~i't I know how these Spaniards hate and fear him? Jesu! It did my heart good to see how he carried him. self ;-how he managed the horse and lance, and made the sword fly, here and there, at every point in the heavens, wherever the enemy attacked. Oh! but I do know him, and I was very loth to promise to lift knife against his breast 1" "And why did you do it?" "Demonios! What was I to do? Here was my own pardon offered me, your freedom, and the whole charge of the hacienda." "You will get none of these! Don Balthazar means only to betray thee. He wishes, no doubt, to get this knight of Por- tugal out of his way; for there are precious reasons, my brother, why he should fear the presence of the Portuguese. Ah! if thou knew'st! But when thou hast done the service, then will he be the first to denounce thee. He is a bitter traitor. His whole life is a treachery. His heart i~ full of serpents. He has lied tc~ thee with sweetness, and thou hast tasted of the sweetness till thou dost not feel the poison! He is apoisoner! Ah! if thou knew'st! Know I not that he keeps many poisons in his closet? Did I not tell thee that our mother died by poison? Whence did it come JTJANA'S SUSPICIONS. 283 "lie say a woman poisoned hcr." "A worn n! He might just as well have said that I did it, or the Lady Olivia. There was none other to do it;. for Sylvia came hither only after our mother was dead. No! no! Mateo, he was the oisoner, be sure; and thou hast sold thyself to do this bad 1na 's bad work, making the good man thy -victim, only to feed on is poison thy sell; when thou little dream'st of such danger !" "Hush u ,child! He dare not deceive me! Let him try it! Let ~ne but find him at his treachery, and I will slit his throat with a whist e." if e be not too quick for thee. I nothing doubt that he will hay the alguazils upon thy steps before another day is over." "I shall eep mine eyes about me, girl; and, hark thee, I shall hide here i tliese thickets, and thou shalt feed me from the house. The will never dream of looking for me here. I know the hours w en to steal forth, but hither will I come to sleep. Dost thou hear ?" "Yes! It is best, perhaps. The plan is a good one. But thou wilt not kill this knight of Portugal to pleasure this bad man?" "It must be done! I will do as I have said; and if Don Bal- thazar, then, does not as he hath sworn to me, I will cut out his lying tongue, and he shall see me eat it ere he dies !". We need ot farther pursue the conference, which ended in an arrangement~ by which the outlaw, unknown to any but Juana, was to find ~is nightly refuge, in the groves and harboring places belonging tq the grounds of the knight's own dwelling, and be supplied with food at. her hands. He was also to time carefully his moments~ of sallying forth; and it-~was deemed only a proper precaution that Don Balthazar was not to know where he har- bored, or be permitted any knowledge of his movements; at all events, until it was certain that Juana's suspicions were ground- less. This conference took place outside of the house, and among * page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 VASOONSELOS. SYLVIA'S ?LANS. 285 * the thick groves by which it was environed. While it was in progress, Doi~ Balthazar contrived to find his way into the do- main of Sylvia, and free her from her unpleasant bandagings. He affected great surprise at her condition, and gave her no clues to the secret of it. Nor, while he was present, did she conjec- ture who was the bold ruffian by whom she had been plundered. But scarcely had the knight retired, when she received a gleam of intelligence from a simple* discovery enough. The bandage about her eyes was a scarf which she had often seen in the pos. session of Juana-that, or one very much like it. Now, where one is disposed to dislike, or suspect, the proofs rapidly accumu- late. This discovery, though by no means conclusive-since the ruffian might very well have caught up, and made use of; the scarf of the innocent serving-maid-yet set the memories and wits of old Sylvia busy. She saw the mystery at a glance. Was not Mateo the brother of Juana ;-was not Mateo an outlaw ;-and had she not heard that Mateo had been seen in the bull-fight, and that her excellent master-ever to be honored-had actually set certain alguazils upon his footsteps '~ Nay, did not Don Bal- thazar, only two nights before; give her warning to keep a close eye upon Juana, for that the outlaw, her brother, was at hand? And, 0, shame to her prudence, had she not been t&o careless of this counsel; ~and was it not for this very incautiousness that she had fallen a victim to the robber! Now it was that she remembered the frequent stealthy absences of the girl at night- her window open-her chamber empty-and a hundred other matters; which, in her present keen suspicions, were proofs like holy writ-confirmations strong-not to be gainsayed in any court of justice. Sylvia was resolved, in her suspicions. They were clear enough as proofs, "And now," mused the sagacious old woman, "how to recover my property-how to enjoy my revenges! I see through the whole affair. Juana harbors her brother here! Truly, a m~bst excellent notion, that of making the house of the 1* most noble knight, Don Balthazar, the place of refuge for the very outlaw whom he has sent the alguazils to find! But I will be toQ much for them both-they shall see! they shall see !" Her plan were soon devised, and the very next morning, bright ~nd e rly, she sallied forth on some professedly innocent pretences. e need not follow her footsteps, but content our- selves with +eportingin brief; the object of her expedition. It was to seek ~ut the alguazils-the chief of them, rather-and be- stow upon him the benefit of her discovery. She made an effort to see Don J~althazar, and to enlighten him on the subject; but, to her surprise, he seemed to have left the hacienda after reliev- ing her of her bonds. He did. not again, that night, occupy his own chamber ; possibly, because of its assumed insecurity; and during the day following, he did not re-appear. He was busy in the city. Meanwhile ~3, what of Olivia-the poor victim, torn by love on the one hand, by a bitter consciousness of wrong and shame on h the other; .~.y passions which she could not control, by fears which she d5ed not name; by vague, vain hopes, which fluc- tuated in a ~ort of shadowy existence in her soul, keeping her restless, dreaming of possibilities, and the most moQking fancies, which left heY', half the time, in the greatest uncertainty of reason! Bier health seemed to improve, however, and, though pale and sad as ever, there were symptoms of better spirits and a greater cheerfulness. Love itself was her only stimulant, while it was also one of her most disturbing griefs. The image of Philip do Vasconselos was ever present to her imagination, coming always clothed with promise. The more she reflected upon the proba- bility of his addressing her, the more she began to doubt of her own strength to say him nay. But, even then, her conscience smote her w~th the criminality of consent; and she would thus sink back into hopelessness and sorrow. But why was it that he came not? To this inquiry, which again suggested a painful doubt of her conquest-painful still, though she had resolved to reject his suit-her lively friend, Leonora de Tobar, brought a sufficiently- explanatory answer. He was close in attendance upon, and anxious for the safety of; his sick brother. Now, hew- page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] THE OUTLAW'S HIDING PL4LOE. 287 286 YASOONSELOS. ever, that Andres was out of danger, Olivia might look to see him soon. She spent that morning with the* unhappy damsel, and her lively prattle alternately cheered and depressed her. When she was gone, Olivia made her toilet with more than usual care. Why? The words ot~ Leonora assured her that she might surely look for Don Philip's coming soon-that very day, perhaps; and it was with~an interest which the poor girl dared not acknowledge to herself; that she arrayed her charms to the best possible advantage; and gazed with a sorrowful sort, of sat- isfaction into the mirror which reflected them to her eyes. Then she sighed, with the sudden rush of her fancies from the seat of conscience, rebuked by the stern judgment of that sacred mon- itor. "Wherefore," she murmured to herself; " wherefore this beauty-this solicitude to appear beautiful in his eyes? Alas! my soul; I cannot do him this great dishonor. I can never doom his noble heart to such infamy as embrace of me will bring I" She sank away from the mirror-she threw herself upon her couch, and buried her face within her hands. The next moment the girl, Juana, was gazing upon her with a look of sympathizing interest, which touched her soul, The girl looked into the cham- ber only to disappear. "Madre de Dios I" Olivia murmured to herself: "Can it be that she knows-that she suspects ?" And with the doubt, the apprehension grew to terror. "I am at the mercy, 0! Heavens, of the meanest slave !" The fear was followed by an agonizing burst of grief! The day was one of perpetual doubts and apprehensions. But it passed away without events. Yasconselos did not appear, as Leonora haa conjectured, and as Olivia had hoped-and feared! Her doubts and fears grew strengthened. If her secret was in the possession of the slave, Juana, it was a secret no longer! That it should have reached the ears of Philip, was her neW terror! It prostrated her for awhile! Half the night was passed in tears and terrors, which were so many agonies. She could bear his loss-she coul4 be content to give him up forever-but that he should know her shame; that his noble soul should be. come conscious of the deadly stain upon hers-that she could never bear, ~nd live! She prayed for death. In her secret thought arose a vague feeling, which brought, and commended to her, the fatal poison, with which, unwittingly, her hand had bestowed death . upon Anita. Were there not other drops of silence, and sleep, and safety in that fat~d phial? Where was it? She would look for it~! She would find it, and at the worst, she would sleep; and all these terrible agonies of thought would have an end I In the deep stillness of the midnight hour, the unhappy damsel resolved on suicide. But there were other drops of bitterness in her cup of misery, which she was yet to drink to the dregs. Let us not anticipate, but follow the fortunes of other persons of our drama. Sylvia had made her way to the alguazils, and had put them in possession of all the clues which she had procured, leading to the pathways and hiding-places of the outlaw, Mateo. Once roused to suspicion, she had found numerous reasons for con- firming her in her conjectures. She noted all the outgoing of Juana. She watched her with secrecy, and comparative success; and though she di not see Mateo, she yet arrived at a very shrewd notion of th thickets in which he might be found. The hacienda which Do Balthazar and his niece occupied, though * smaller than the est te which he cultivated for her, was yet one of considerable rang in grove and forest. It had numerous dim avenues of shade an silence. There were solitary walks which no one frequented. here were hollows among the wooded hills which might have harbored a hermit. It seems that Mateo knew the place. 'H possessed himself( of its various haunts; and, but for the too ager desire of Juana to seek him out, and be with him 'i~rhen t ere was no necessity for it, the old woman would probably nev r have gifessed his propinquity. had the girl been content to seek him only at night, and to carry him food but once in the wenty-four hours, and then under cover of the darkness, he had een safe. But the girl loved her brother, page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 v~scoNsELO~. and was very proud of his prowess. Besides, after the death of Anita, she needed the solace of association with the only kinsman left her. She gratified this desire, and sought to gratify him, twenty times a day, perhaps; stealing forth with Ifruits and deli. cacies, with nice morsels from the kitchen, and with an occasional wine-flask, or the remains of one, whenever she could appropri. ate it with impunity. But the eye of Sylvia was upon her; and she noted the direction taken by the footsteps of the girl. It was surprising with what correctness she conjectured the harboring places of the fugitive, from these observations, and her own knowledge of the grounds. She put all her clues into the keep. ing of the alguazils. The result was, that before sunset, some half dozen of them were quietly skirting the hacienda, divided into two parties, and gradually contracting their circuits about the suspected place of refuge. Mateo, meanwhile, never dreamed of danger from this source. It is true that Juana had her doubts of the good faith of Don Balthazar, and labored to inspire him with similar doubts. In some degree she succeeded, so as in fact to make him circum- spect as possible. But the great gain of security, of freedom, and high trust, which the Hidalgo had promised, were considera- tions quite too grateful and tempting not to prevail in the argu- ment addressed to the confidence of the outlaw; who, besides, seemed to understand very well why the uncle of Olivia should desire to get Don Philip de Vasco~nselos removed from the path. It was nZt with any satisfaction that Mateo contemplated the duty assigned him. He would rather have killed any two other men in Havana than this one Portuguese. L~ut, as he said, "What am I to do? I can't be a fugitive always, flying for safe. ty; and to be my own master is a great deal to one who don't like to work; and to get into a snug office, where I can compel others to do the thing which I don't like to do myself, is certainly very pleasant! Besides, if I don't take the Portuguese in hand, Don Balthazar will only employ somebody else-some bungler, who will not do it half so well; who will botch the business; who will give the good knight unnecessary pain, and perhaps keep him lingering. but a stroke over angels; for he is a to die! It must b beware how he p1 Philip, whom I rat I hate; and he sha me!" In this state of skirting his hiding- on the verge of the the thicket was m cept such as natur portions of which most too close for which Mateo fancie by a few strokes o the city to the haci ~ras skirted by song It happened that evening to visit the as the Queen of t done before, but abroad, had been and now very hope to appear before h day, however, from enough to receive v of the hours of the with his congratulate races of a sympathy his love and admi on-for the truly ci affectionsof offerir tuated as a resifess ~.ay that he dd not 13 PHILIP~S VISIT. 289 Now I will dispatch him at a blow. It is ~he shoulders, and he is caught up by the good young man, and in a very ~proper state done-and shall be! But let Don Balthazar ys me false. If I have one death for Don ~er love, I have a dozen deaths for him whom 1 taste them all if he tries to make a fool of hid was he musing, while the alguazils were ace; which happened, at this moment, to be hacienda, the point nearest the city. Here st dense; without pathways or avenues, ex- had left in a very tangled piece of forest, ere clothed in a mass of brush and vine al- ~he progress of a wild-cat or fox, but through ~ he could burrow with tolerable ease, assisted his machete. The common pathway from ~nda ran along the margin of this thicket, and e very lofty trees, Philip de Vasconselos had taken this very damsel whom his admiring fancies had chosen tournament. The duty would have been r her indisposition, the reports of which, ery contradictory. Philip, though anxious, ul, was too generous, whatever his anxiety, r while she suffered. He had learned that Nuno de Tobar, that she was at length well suitors; and he had chosen the most delicious ay, in that clime and season, to approach her ons, his thanks, and possibly with the assu- far beyond any thing implied by these, in ration! The purpose, not wholly decided ivalrous are always timid in an afihir of thc g her his hand, and imploring hers, yet fluc. impulse in his bosom. It would be idle to iQpe, and hope strongly, for success. Even page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 YASCONSELOS. the modesty of his character could not be deceived on a subject on which the common voice of society allowed no doubts, and he was resolved to bring his own doubts, if any, to a close, as soon as possible, and terminate a condition of suspense which had many vexations. But, whether he should address Olivia that evening or not, was to depend upon his reception, her health? and other circumstances which need not b9 mentioned. Enough, that he is at last on his way to her hacienda. He had just entered upon the estate, and, with slow step, and musing spirit, was penetrating the avenue of great trees which led to the dwelling, when he was startled from a pleasant revery, by a sudden outcry from the depths of the thicket on his right. There were clamors, as of threatened violence; the shouts of man to man; a rushing and crackling afriong the shrubs and branches of the wood, followed by a fierce, wild, savage oath or two, which came very distinctly to his ears, and which declared for angry passions ready to do mischief. The suit set. The in- terval of twilight is brief in that region. A sudden glory suffuses the sky, as the great eye of day is about to close; the glory disappears, a faint misty light lingers in the sky; which gradually deepe~is into dusk. Such was the hour. The dusk was nearly darkness in the wood; and, for a moment, Don Philip could see nothing, though he impulsively took a few steps into the thicket in order to trace the secret of the outcry. He was not left long in doubt. Suddenly, a gigantic figure, that seemed to rise from the earth where he had fallen, bounded close beside him. He was followed by ,three others, who now rushed out of the wood and made after the fugitive, armed with swords and knives. They were close upon his heels, and he turned about to confront them. Three upon one! The struggle was too unequal. The chivalry of Don Philip was aroused as he beheld. With the natu- ral impulse of a brave man, sympathizing with the weak, he drew his~ sword, and threw himself in the way of the pursuers; the outlaw, for it was he, being some twenty steps in advance. "Stand aside I,' cried one of the alguazils, who seemed to be the leader :-~" we are officers of justice." "I know not that rant? Let me see "No time for th Baithazar de Alvar rest yonder outlaw.' "Ha Vila! Ha!' taking advantage himself among the fly much farther. probably, was all th "Ha! Ha! Ha! we shall see who is Don Philip heard "Who is the man "Mateo, the outl Senior, how you arre of the crimh~al! I will have to answer "If you know me three men opposed t this man, before you It is probable th~ beat the knight out o and they well remem The officer remonstr "You cannot read is here. Let us pass, "Let them pass, S fleeter legs than Span overtake Mateo; and conquer when they carry you with me to The confidence wit to Oppose the officer. Would be prudent on authorities, knowing, THE PURSUIT. 291 was the answer. "Where is your war- ~our authority." now! We are under the authority of Don and these are his rounds. We are to ar- was the fierce chuckle of the outlaw, who, * the diversion in his favor, had sheltered trees, but who did not seem disposed to .e had obtained a momentary respite, which, t was now necessary to his safety. Send Don Baithazar himself to me, and ~ie outlaw !" the words distinctly. ~" he asked. ~w, the fugitive, the murderer. Beware~ t the officers of justice, and help the escape now you, Don Philip de Vasponselos; you cr it, if you delay us." you know that I cannot staid by and see one. Shox~r me your autho ity for taking )ass me. The penalty be up n my head !" t the alguazils would have attempted to ~ their path, but knighthood h d its prestige, bered the potent weapon of t e Portuguese. bed. ;hc paper," he said, "by this light. But it or there will be trouble." lior," cried the fugitive. " ey will havc sh alguazils usually carry, if they hope to better skill and courage than usual, if they overtake! Come on, rascal , that I may the devil." which the outlaw spoke dete mined P114 no farther. He probably saw that it .y to forbear a quarrel wi the public ~s he did, how doubtful wer hi~ own re- page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 292 VASOONSELOS. nations with the Adelantado, and how small his popularity with the Spaniards at large. "You are right," said he to the officers; "I have nothing to do with this business !" and he turned aside, and put up his weapon. The alguazils started again in pursuit. A shrill whis- tle sounded from the opposite quarter. It was the signal of the other party in search of the fugitive. The outlaw was between two squads of enemies, and he hounded away to the covert, both parties after him. For several minutes, Don Philip listened to their outcries, as they severally crashed their way into the thickets. He half regretted that he had not still farther delayed the chase after the bold outlaw. In a little while the sounds ceased. The alguazils were at fault, bewildered in the wood; and the fugitive laughed at them securely in its deep recesses. But, of this escape, ~Philip knew not at the moment. He re- sumed his progress towards the dwelling, his mood having be- come somewhat sterner by the momentary excitement.. Hardly had he advanced a dozen steps, however, when he encountered - the girl, Juana, wringing her hands, and showing many signs of terror. "Who is this ?" "Oh! Seior Don PhiPp, how I thank you! You have saved my poor brother. They will give him to the 'garote vii, if they take him; and it is I whc~ have betrayed him." "You! Are you not 4ie girl, Juana, belonging to Don Baltha-, zar de Alvaro ?" "Oh! not to him, but to the poor young lady, the Se~iQrita Olivia'?", "And he is y ur brother? And why do they pursue him l What has he don ?" "Oh! nothing the world, Seilor; nothing in the world; only he is toL good to o work at- th~ hacienda. They charge him with murder and other things. But it is not true. He is the best per. * son in the world, eflor, and the best brother, and he killed the great bull, El Mo 0; and would be as good a Christian as Father Paul himself, if ey'd only let him have his own way.". The knight smile quired for Mateo's "Certainly, Juan ther." "Oh! I knew yo the like of them. "Well, you are a -But how is your 1 just going to visit he "Ah !" said the gi ing. She is not well reason that you see -only to see and ta Devils burn them in and I led them to the had so nearly caught to the garrote vii, I ever and forever !" The visit of Philip gence which Juana ga him. Olivia had not expected the cavalier. the garrulous assuran from her husband's r that night. And, but of this truthful history evil we do not preP 1)een. Don Philip m have been denied; pr cult to say. The tasli the poor damsel, lovin to say him nay----to sa no less than his. She been solicitous of chin art or ornament for co with her jewels! W'c ['HE VISIT POSTPONED. 293. * at the moderate conditions which were re- they are very unreasonable with your bro- 'd think so, Seiior. He is o ly too good for [e is the best brother in all ba." good girl for believing thus o your brother. ldy.--how is the Seflorita de lvaro? I was '1 quickly-.-.-." But you can't se her this even- and she bade me leave her and that's the ae here. I stole oW as the cilorita retired 1k with Mateo, and the algu zils-may the itch and sulphur !-they foll wed after me, ery place where he was sleep 11g. Oh! they him; and if they had, and th y had put him ld have drowned myself' i the sea, for- de Vasconselos was arrested by the intelli~ ye him of her lady; but the girl deceived retired; and we may add, t at she really She had been taught to lo k for him by es of Leonora de Tobar, wh had gathered port that Don Philip woul surely come for this interruption, how mi ht the events have been altered !---wheth r for good or nd to say. But altered th y must have ght have made the visit in v in; he might bably would have been; tho gh it is diffi- of denial would have been hard one to him as she did; and reluct t as she was nay to the pleadings of her own passion, had dressed herself for PWlip-she had s which, perhaps, needed ii le help from quest. Yet she had adorned erseif richly ld she have had the firmness -the virtue page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 294 ~vA$OO~SELO~. .-to refuse the prayer of one whom she was yet so anxious to please ~ It is proba~Ae that Don Baithazar knew her weaknesses better than she di4 herself. At all events, the lie of the girl, Juana, told with no malignant purpose, but simply to prevent the discovery of her ui~dicensed absence by her mistress, changed, very completely, the whole current of our hi~tory-changed the fortunes of Don P~iilip, no less than those of the lady of his love. Not that he did not again seek her-but this must be a matter for future revelation. Philip de Vasconselos turned away from Juana, and fr9m the hacienda, and with a parting word of kindness to the giVl, slowly took his rout9 back to his lonely lodgings. "Praise the llol~ Virgin that he is gone! and the Saints be all praised because he came. If he had not come between these cursed alguazils, they would have been, all of them, upon poor Ivtateo. They can hardly take him now, it is so dark, and he knows the thicket~ so well. He will e~ape. He is safe. I don't hear them now. Oh! I am so glad that the good knight of Portugal came! And Mateo wanted to kill him, and all to please that great c~iyman, my master. But he shan't touch him now. If he's to k111 anybody, I know who it shall be. It shan't be the good Don philip, I knoW. He is a good knight. I love him. And my lady loves him too, better than all things in this world. But if he knew! If he only knew what I know! But he shall never know for me! And if he marries her, I shall be ~o glad." CHAPTER XXIV. "No * An An' DAY passed, nigh ful stars, and the ho Alvaro, in the solitu apprehension increa tarn that she was not side the verandah bc hopelessness and wo miserable musings, a ness. Youth has w( sense of shame. Be~ ecstasies of hope, pr4 own purity. But if heart with all the th dare not trust the su The' whispers of the fears. The stars see dread lest the fierce penetrate your priso: fiil mysteries. Shan man's bidding. It young, beautiful, pur of generous passions implies all horrors, p Voice of doom, and ti with the tortures of ( not well be said to li~ help ye charming spells and periapts, I ye choice spirits that admonish me, give me signs of fiitu.re accidents." came and went, with all her t irs grew more and more sa( 61e of her chamber. The sen sed to absolute terror, as to see Don Philip that night. low stairs till a very late hou ~ of that sick suffering soul, 1 id strugglingagainst its own ter nderftil resources against eve uty maintains a glorious elasti )vided~ you do not crush it wit this d~ubt be present, it hai eateni~ig terrors of the thund( shine You cannot confide grove seem to repeat the ii mournful witnesses against glances of the noonday sun i-house, and lay bare to the ~ ie is a haunting spectre that ~ [s thus terrible to man; U 3 in spirit, and hopeful. still, in and loving sympathies; it is t ist and future; that mars all ireatens every breath of hop eternal sorro~. The soul thu !~. It enjoys ~iothing. It dist SHAKSPEARL rain of thought.. I to Olivia de ~e of pain and .t became cer- She sate be- r; and 0! the ~ft to its own rible conscious- ~y evil but the ~ity in its own a doubt of its gs above the r-cloud. You to the breeze. ecret of your you, and you will suddenly odd its dread.. 411 down at no it to woman, the possession lie demon that Celicity with a ~ and feeling ~ haunted can~ rusts all pleas- ~95 page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] 296 VASOONSELOS. ures, all friencfships, ~Ioves, associations. The eyes that look upon it seem spies, the voices that address it seem accusers. The very passk~ns and sympat~iies, thus overshadowed, grow to scorpions, that fasten upon th~ being in whose heart they harbor. To describe the sorrows of such a being, in detail, would be impos. sible. This would be to analyze enery emotion, thought, fancy; and to discern the selisuggested doubt and apprehension which the mind continually conjures up for its own agony. If; from such a knowledge of hersituation as we have been enabled to give, the reader cannot conceive Qf the miserable melancholy ~if Oliv. ia's mood, nothing iiow may be said more fully to enlight~ni him. There are some agencies which are indescribable; beyond which we may not go-beyond which we may not see-over which the curtain drops of itself, and which we thence only venture to con- template through n~eans of conjectures, which still, for the sake -of humanity, imply uncertainty. We give to the sufferer the benefit of the doubt, and in some degree feel a relief from having done so. It is a relief not to believe too much. We prefer to suppose that the vitim has some alternative by which to escape from a situation the agonies of which are too exquisite for en- durance. How, in what gloomy wakefulness, and torturing thought, Olivia passed the night, we shall not pretend to describe. Nature at last, in her utter exhaustion, compelled thought to silence. She slept, but not till a very late hour. It was midnight when Don Balthazar reached home, She heard him enter the house and immediately proceeded to assure herself that her door was fas- tened. The secret 4oor leading to her chamber, of which she only * recently had knowledge, she also contrived to provide against by a heavy piece of furniture, which promised to render it unavail- able to the intruder. This done, the eyes of the damsel' grew weary, and after a sobbing prayer, she soon sank to slumber. She slept late the next day, and was awakened by Juana tapping at the entrance. Don Balthazar had already departed for the city, and Olivia felt relieved at the intelligence. She took a light breakfast, but was oppressed by heaviness after it. Her eyes drooped, and her s shake off the feelir ness, and bustled a ing increased. Sh which she kept cert~ and other trifles of it, as she believed, particularly careful stance. It flashed a her chamber while door could not be j massive piece of ft been disturbed. ~ which, could she in mode of accountin~ day proceeded. S unwanted freedon2 had kept the girl ai much suspicion as advent of the hatel young mistress, m sympathy on sever blest source must i heart of the unhap] now, any longer to whole story of his suit of him, urged Don Balthazar, and of the interposition munications did nol of the midnight co law, the lures held dom for himself ar estate,-.---not forget was to secure these elation was unbrok 13~ JUANA'S REVELATIONS. pints. She looked about her g, which she ascribed to her j accordingly about her chamber ~ remarked with surprise thai ~in little delicacies, sweetmeats like sort, was unfastened. ~ the night before, an~d as she I to do so, she was annoyed ~ross her mind that some one i she slept. But it was evider penetrated from without, faster rniture, and the ordinary e was compelled to dismiss ye entertained, might havele ~ for her drowsiness. This I ~ie was, however, somewhat ii of Juana's communications a distance; holding her to b aer mother, Anita. But of k 1 Sylvia, Juan~i, had been mo ~re solicitous to serve her, an ~tl occasions, when sympathy necessarily be grateful to the t y damsel. Juana's own hea keep the secret of her broth presencee in Havana, his disc ~y the beagles of the law, at his lucky escape. But she s~ of Don Philip de Vasconse rest here. She told most o ~ference between Don Baltha~ ut to the latter, the promise her, and the future man ng the criminal condition by' benefits. Once opened, the ~n until the whole fountain w~ 297 made efforts to previous wakeful- But the feel- the beaufet, in ,cocoa, bon-bons, he had secured iad always been by the circum- aust have visited t that the secret Led as it was by a trance had not s the suspicion, i her to another creased as the ept alive by the Hitherto she ~ an object of as te, and since the ~e devoted to her I had shown her from the hum- rn and suffering rt was too full r. She told the overy, the pun- the instance of Lid not a syllable. kw4. Her corn- the particulars :ar and the out- made of free- ~gement of the vhich the outlaw stream of rev- ~s emptied. But page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] 298 VASCONS1~LOS. there was another reservation which the girl made. She did not say who was the victim whom the hate of Don Balthazar required the outlaw to assassinate. In veply to the eager and apprehensive inquiry of Olivia, she professed not to know. But Olivia knew. Her instincts readily divined the secret, as she, better than any body else, knew well what were her uncles necessities and danger, and how naturally he regarded Philip de Vasconselos as his worst enemy. "Holy Maria !" murmured the poor girl to herself: Will he murder him because he hath destroyed his hope as well as mine! Oh! surely, I must do something here 1', Then aloud, to Juana, she said- ." But your brother will never do this horrid deed, Juana ?" "No! no! Seiiorita; not now, I'm thinking. He might have done it yesterday, perhaps; but now, when he finds that Don Balthazar keeps no faith with him, and puts the alguazils at his backjust as he has made a solemn bargain with him before the angels,-.Mateo will never trust him, or work for him in any way.~~ "Hear me, Juana! I will give Mateo and yourself freedom. It is to me you belong.-." "Yes, S efiorita, to be sure; but you are not of age yet, you know, and your uncle is your guardian till then; and he-" "I know all that, Juana; but do you and your brother serve me faithfully-do all that I shall require in the~ meantime, and I will provide that you shall both have your freedom as soon as I am of legal age. Meanwhile, I will see the Lady Isabella, who is very kind to meand through her I will get Mateo's pardon for the crimes of which he has been guilty." "Oh! will you, dear Seflorita, my most dear Seflorita? But what do you watit i~s to do f "I will tell you hereafter. At present I hardly know myself. I must think. I see that there is something to be done, but now, I scarcely know what. My head feels very confused, and I am 'so drowsy. I slept but little last night. I shall think of every- thing during the day. Meanwhile, do you contrive to see your brother, and tel] things, not to lift "But I didn't "No matter! hair of' Don Phi mountains by all sleep till they b Let him be faithfi him soon. Go, you tell him all, living soul." Juana did not her brother. He at the escape of 1\ the track of the s hled her finally to Olivia had a visil who found her sin from which the com her. Her energy to subside as sudd to be wasted enti The gay young W4 in respect to her "Well, my chil "What is settl "Why, that y "No! It is se Philip !" was the "What! Olivi him? You who "He has not g "How! But "No!" "Is it possible Nuno that he wa ANOTHER BID FOR MATEO. him what I have said. Te and or weapon against Don *y 'twas Don Philip, Setiorit know! It can be no other. [p's head~ I will have him I he troops of the Adelantado ing him to the, gctrote vii. 1 to me, andI~1 make yo* ow. Hasten! Find him. But whisper not a word of * eed a second command to d absence was noted by Sylvi~ ateo from the alguazils. S rving-girl, whose superior agil lude the pursuit of the old wo or in the gay young wife o king back into that state of la munication of Juana had mo. s had risen, with the temp enly; and the lively prattle o 'ely upon the ears to which man came in with abound, f oung hostess. d," said she, "it is all settle d, Leonora?" are to be the bride of Do ~tled only that I am not to be ~ad reply. ~, you have not been so fo I eally love him so yen me the opportunity, Leo ~e has been here ?" Well, that is very stra surely to come to see you y 299 1 him, above all Philip-.-." If he hurts one unted up in the and I will never Now, warn him. both free. See Do not rest till this to any other part in search of ~, who was furious e was soon upon ~ty, however, ena- nan. Meanwhile, Nuno de Tobar, ~guor and apathy nentarily aroused ~rary excitement, Leonora seemed .t was addressed. 11 of anticipations I suppose?" Philip." the bride of Don ish as to refuse iora." ;e! I got from ~terday." page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] 300 YASOON~ELOS. B~OW TO MAKE AN OFFER. 801 "He did not come !" was the answer, in sad tones. "That is certainly very curious. He told Nuno that he would visit you in the evening. That was yesterday morning. Nuno spent the morning with him, and said he was in the greatest spirits; that he did nothing but talk of you, and of your beauty and sweetness, and grace and innocence !" "Ah I" exclaimed Olivia, with a sudden flushing of the cheek, while she pressed her hand .upon her side as if in pain. "What is the matter? Are you sick ?" "A sudden pain I,' "You have these sudden pains too frequently. You keep too much at home. Home always fills me with pains. It don't agree with the health of any young woman not to go frequently abroad, where she can see and be seen. That's what I tell Nuno when he wants to quarrel with me for going out so much. Though, in truth, I do not go out so very often. I visit nobody but you, and the Lady Isabella, and Donna Vicente de Ladrone, and the Sejioritas Guzman, and dear little Maria de Levoine, and Theresa Moreno, and a few others. But I tell Nuno that it is not for the love of it that I visit; it is only for my health. I should have just those sort of pains that trouble you, if I did not show myself everywhere every day; and I tell Nuno I am not going to make myself sick by minding what he says. Oh! he's like, all other men, and would be nothing less than a tyrant if I'd let him. And do you be warned in time. When you marry Don Philip take your position firmly at the outset; and seize the first opportunity of putting your foot down so-and saying, "Twont do, Don Philip! You are quite mistaken in your wo- man. I am my own mistress, Don Philip, and if you were a wise gentleman, and a gallant, I should be yours also!' That's ~~hat you must say and do, Olivia, if you'd be a free woman and a ruling, happy wife. It's the only way !" 4nd she stamped very prettily, with a properly graceful em- phasis, with her pretty little left foot, and tossed her tresses with the air of a sultana. But Olivia only smiled sadly in reply, and shook her head. 0 "Oh! don't sha led with the blues comes singing-.' 'V he will come, I as~ yesterday, that he to. come this, so ta] best smiles, and be ing to you. Oh! bushels ot' them. do you think, Oliv4 latchies raise them believe him. Onl pearl, and raising t~ they can be grow manuring them wI wouldn't tell me if had in every county To all this Olivia smile, that even tin "Oh do !" said tell you he will con hours; and you w nothing. Then he* his lips, a d you ~ never thh k to dra~ done that it does .~ will rise nd seat hi hand hol ing your~ suddenly e will in kissing, a d he will will see t at there things tha he know "Neve , Leonora Don Phil' cares f married." "Oh! knowbc e your head so pathetically. mly, and will recover as soox Till you, will you,-won't yoi tire you. I only wonder, aft was not here last evening. :e care and see to your toile sure to wear your pearls, th( when he goes to Florida h( Nuno promises me any qua ~? he tells me that, in that cc from the seed. Think of tha ~ think of planting your ga iem in any quantity and size, i larger than the largest fo th star-dust. But what is at. Only said there was a p1 y, and more in Cuba than an had to smile only, but in suc lively visitor was somewhat he, "Olivia, shake off these e, and will be at your feet wi ill pout, and hesitate, and ft sill take your hand, and he ill tremble more than ever ~ your hand away, which is a iot seem worth while to do I mself beside you on the settc he will put the other about stake your mouth for the h~ kiss that; and after he has ~ is no sense in refusing him s so well what to do with." Do not speak of it. I d( r me, and I assure you we You are troub- as Don Philip L, Olivia?' And ~r what he said Lie will be sure * Put on your y are so becom- will send you atity; and what untry, the Apa- I can hardly ~den with seed- He says that wl-egg, only by star-dust± He enty of it to be ~ other." h a sort did she chilled by it. gloomy fits. I hin twenty-four emble, and say will carry it to , but you will thing so easily ~; and then he e, and with one your waist, and nd he has been *one so far, you the use of the not think that shall never be ~tter! You mustn't refuse Don Philip on 301 page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] 302 YASCONSELOS. any account. He will take you out of the custody of your im. cle, who is only a sort of great Moorish bull, such as fought the other day in the ring; and a monstrous pretty fight he made, indeed! If I could see Don Baithazar fighting in the same man. ner, till he was killed, and dead outright, and lying sprawling in re4 blood, and with his neck and shoulder stuck full of banderillas, I think I should. like him a great deal better. But now I don't like him at all. Here he keeps you no better than a prisoner. li~ fact, ,Olivia, I half suspect he likes you better, as a woman, than as a niece, and would rather not see you married to any- body." Olivia started at this random shaft; rose from the settee; and with staring eye and flushed cheek, gazed her answer; vague, wild, utterly unmeaning, as it seemed, to the remark of Leonora. "What! dear child, another of those cruel pains? I must send you some famous drops I have. Sit down again! Lie down, Olive, dear. I can speak to you just as well when you lie as when you sit. There, rest yourself for awhile. Poor, dear creature, how your cheek pales and flushes, in an instant, and what an odd look you have in your eyes! You must take some of my drops, and take more exercise, and take advice, Olive, and what's more and better, take Don Philip. Oh! he will cure you of all these infirmities. That's the good of a husband! Now don't be looking so woeful and low-spirited. Positively, there are big tears in your eyes! What have I been saying to make you so sad? I'm sure I meant to be very lively and very good- natured, and to tell you only su~ch thii~gs as would please you. By the way, something odd of your Don Philip. You must know that he has the most eccentric tastes in the world. What do you think? He gave Nuno a commission to buy him a negro boy, a sort of lacquey, fifteen or sixteen-a lad to go on mes- sages, and polish his armor, and help lace him in it, and perhaps dress his hair-who knows what sort of duties the page of a young gallant has to perform? Well, Nuno, who knows every- body, busies himself to procure this lad for him, and sends him half a hundred, more or less, of the best black 'boys, for such a purpose, Philip. of a negr ing, as if negro ha So ridicu another, back of b huge as ti ing some and he sh he has re to be do his humc negro at part, as I me. The ral. The entirely c We de~ a reported] ter a cert~ tired final ty in wha utterly su and becan of Leonor humor, sh turn as s visit. Olivia ~ gone. It which she shake off~ for doing I But, as th in all Ha He has a o. He r such a th idsome! ous! Tc because h ~s ears; t4 iat of Coy night in ~lI lose hi ~'used evei 2'e with s~ rs, becau~ all; only told Nun idea of a uglier th ut of plac pair fully , with the in period, [y of the she sak Aued anc ie more a: i to arous ~ at lengi )on as si welded to grew to a] made to feeling ~ he several hour for A 1~EFINflD TASTE. 303 vana. And none pleases ot taste, would you believe it, e quires the boy to be graceful ng was to be found! He m Was ever such an absurdity one, he objects because he i~ ~ squints; to a third, because a fourth, because his mouth h ~ndonga, and forever open. H Florida, a cayman will go d negro and his money. And y nc~gro that has been brougl2 ich man? But I tell Nuno ~e he's unsettled. He's not of you, Olivia-only of you! o, I don't wish a good-looki handsome negro is unreason ~ better. Beauty and good ~ in such an animal." of success, in the endeavor t tongue of the lively Leonora. its exertions were relaxed. ] fruitlesss effort to provoke ml ., in a mind so utterly absoi * sad, as that of Olivia. The more apathetic in proporti her; and, giving up the tas] h took her departure, with a e could hear that Don Philij her apathy as soon as her solutee drowsiness, in spite ol ~rouse herself; which she di hich oppressed her, than witi things about the house which ~he siesta drew nigh, she yield r excellent Don ren in the choice and good-look- ist needs have a Such a whim! bowlegged; to his forehead is like a cavern, as says that sleep- ~wn his' throat, ~hus, positively, t him. What's these are only thinking of the Now, for my rig negro about ble and unnatu- [ooks would be keep pace, as Enough that, af- ~ven she herself erest or curiosi- bed, a spirit so latter drooped, )n to the efforts ~, in no satisfied promise to re- ) had made his companion had sundry efforts the rather to any necessity she undertook. d to the subtle 803 page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] 804 VASCONSELOS. influence which possessed her, and which she persuaded herself was due to the heat of the day, and the' absence of the freshening breezes of the sca. She had disposed herself on the settee as for sleep, when Juana reappeared, much flurried and exhausted. She had failed to find h~r brother, after a long and very fatigu.. ing search in all the well-known places. It was probable, so Juana thought, that the late pursuit of the alguazils had driven Mateo from the estate. We, however, knew better. He had simply found it necessary to shift his quarters, and to exercise a little m4re caution. He may have temporarily left the grounds, but he did not abandon them. In truth, to state a fact which poor Juana did not conjecture, he found it necessary for his own safety to elude her search. She it was, who, with a foolish fond. ness, had brought old Sylvia and the alguazils upon his track. He kept from her sight, and changed his ground at her approach. The girl was very much troubled by the failure of her search. Olivia might have felt and shown quite as much concern on hear- ing her report, but for the torpor that had now seized upon her faculties. She repeated her commands to Juana to find her brother, and arrest his knife, in so many murmurs. "It is very warm and oppressive, Juana. We shall have a thunder-storm. I am very drowsy." Juana shook her head. She ascribed her mistress's drowsiness to a very different cause. She had enjoyed some of the experience of old Anita, and she muttered to herself-" She has had the spice 1', Aloud, she said,- "It is warm, Seflorita, and close, but I don't think there will be any thunder-storm. In a little while the sea-breeze will wake up, and you will feel* better, perhaps." "I will go to the summer-house, Juana, and take my siesta, if you think there will be no thunder-storm. Carry my dress for the evening over there, and my jewel-case. I will make my toilet there. We need apprehend no visitors now until evening, I think, and you need not disturb me until the proper time to dress." She gave other directions-had some oranges, now in their prime, carried to the summer-house, and with h~nguid limbs went thu that of o The sv mate ilk ment, sum sunlight which ad sweet sol had full through to the br the oran more or 1 drooping through most nob in the hg fabric wa around i seemed t flexible ~a lopt fro miraculo terwove and fig. and with fierce gla from gre twe~n. bandiwo sary sup green or was, in shutting breez~. taking n her, after ie not oni mmer-h6 that of rounded rom its fi ed to the itude, the mpire. he thicket eze. Th ;e, the gr ass ripe, h to the seeming Ic natural [it and air s very sli being o be con~ rid tenacio * their roo is rod of and roof These we glossy vel rices of th t trees, th~ A~rt had 4 k of natui ~1y of cm blue befo: act, only ut the li~ Upon om ~turally a: THE SUMMER HOUSE. awhile, herself; her whole a y indifferent, but insensible t~ ise was a retreat happily CO] Cuba. It held a neatly furn )y a colonnade which .effectu~ oors. It w~s surrounded b~ shade, and seemed to give se ~hosen retreat of conternplatk ~ happy succession of small c opening in all directions, ga~ se avenues ran through long t~ ~nadilla, and the anana. The ung lusciously in sight, in do: ~and. On each side, the p~ !alls of thicket, affording arci Gothic. These all conducted octagon cot to which Olivia I ht, a mere framework of wo ore solid than the structure: trusted literally of palm, bai s shrub trees, peculiar to th~ s, will sometimes bud and] he prophet. The bamboos d with the thick leaves of p~ e all so many plates and shiel vet coating that might effe e sun, even if there were no t stretched their broad and m ne its best, within the cottage e without. There was no b tains and cushions. The fo: 'e the several openings of t] a group of verandahs, place ht, but readily yielding to th of the piles of cushions 011 i attitude of grace, and exhil 805 appearance being external things. iceived for a cli- shed, airy apart- lly excluded the ample thickets, purity. It was a n. Here silence urts and avenues e free admission 'acts of the palm, r several fruits, ;e proximity, and stages were cut ied walks of the ;o the one centre, Lad retired. This A; the columns and at a glance riboos, and other t region; which, )lossom, like the were artfully in- lm, and plantain, ds, green, broad, tually baffle the loftier shadows issive boughs be- ~, to emulate the ~ck of the neces- mer drooped in cottage, which I in parallelism, pressure of the via sunk down; iting' an outline page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 306 YASOONSELOS. She saw he fanciE "Oh! garote v~ who woi then !- ejaeulati4 of it:-' Juana rather t] tions! exquisitely rounded, such as frequently distinguishes the figure of the woman trained in a life of luxurious ease, and in that deli. cious climate. She seems, at once, to sleep. Her eyes close. Her s&ise is steeped in oblivion. She dreams, yet she does not sleep. She feels, but she is not conscious. Her blood stagnates in her veins; yet it works potently in her brain. She is in a morbid and unnatural condition. She is under the influence of "periapts"-spells, which steep the sense in oblivion-in un. consciousness of evil,-making the victim deaf to the very~ thun- ders that roll above his head, and blind to the forms of terror, or of danger, that flit before his eye. She has partaken of "the insane root that takes the reason prisoner." Thc~ potent medi- cine which now seals up her 'consciousliess was one of the se- crets of her fearful uncle. She has suspected him ;-she has,- as we have already seen, endeavored tq evade his arts; but they have been~too much for her. She littk~ dreams that he possesses avenues to all her hiding-places, keys of power to persuade to yielding, every lock and bolt which she deems secure. At the very moment when she fancied herself most safe, and was begin- ning to exult in the conviction that she could baffle and defy his arts, her strength failed her-her powers all frozen by his terrible spells. Late that day he reached home and asked for Olivia. He was told by Juana that she was in the summer-house-that she slept. A knowing smile slightly curled his lip. Dinner was served him in his chamber. The wine of Xeres sparkled before him. He drank with the manner of one who enjoys a tempo- rary respite from all the cares of life. He finished the goblet; refilled it; finally emptied the flask, and threw himself into his hammock, with a cigar. He smoked for a while, then rose, drew forth another flask of wine, broached it and drank freely; finished his cigar in his hammock, and after a little while, restlessly work~ ed himself out of it. His eye was humid, his cheeks flushed, his steps uncertain.. He looked about him with an air of hesitation, then repeated his draught from the flask, and, with a sudden im~ pulse, hurried out into the verandah, and down the steps into the garden. The keen eyes of Juana followed him from below. that he n d himself she mi 1 only ha ild never -" The rn, after Oh! the] was not r ian sym~ DARX~ ~)ESIGNS. ade his way ~owarcIs~the ~ unseen. uttered sotto voce, as she wato] it~ teeth in the neck of the' drink two whole wine-fla~k~ sequence was left unfinished, ~ome pause, may be consider )OOr Sejiorita!" ~uch given to pity. It was I athy for the niece, that cau 307 mer-house, while Led, "Oh! if the ight one, I know at a sitting, and unless the final a proper part iate to the uncle, sed her ejacula- page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] CHAPTER XXV. "Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon." MACBETH. THE day had been one of considerable bustle in Havana, and Don Balthazar had been very busy all the morning. Juan de Anasco, the contador, a brave, choleric little fellow, who united all the qualities of the soldier, with the experience of the sailor, had been a second time dispatched to coast the shores of Florida, in order to find a proper harbor to which the expedition might sail direct. He arrived the previous night, after a protracted voyage of three months, during which great fears were enter. tamed that he had been lost at sea. His escape had been a nar- row one, and it will illustrate the superstitions of his time and people, to show how he returned thanks to Heaven for his resto- ration and safety. In fulfilment of a vow, made at a moment of extreme peril, he and all his crew, the moment they reached the shores of Havana, threw themselves upon their knees, and in this manner crawled' to church to hear mass. Then lie made his report of disasters and discoveries, and described a secure harbor which he had found in Florida. The armament of De Soto had been nearly ready for several days before. It needed now but little further preparation, and waited, in fact, but a fa- vorable wind. The report of Anasco stimulated the industry of all parties. De Soto was impatientto depart, and his desires were so many keen spurs in the sides of the lieutenants, keep- ing them incessantly employed. Don Balthazar, as we have men- tioned, had been very busy all the morning, and hence, perhaps, his rather free indulgence in the pleasures of the wine-cup after the toils of the day were over. 805 That night there tado, to ~he cavalier persons of Havana the enthusiasm of] conciliat~ the affect; under th4 govern course, the two Por younger, though jw attend. Not 50, P. pany the expedition joyed no command among the Spaniarc ite of the Adelanta growth o~ his hope~ she approved and C would possess no at moderate, ashislo~ venture had suddenly of a morq powerful to him? He cared which it s~c~med to those of love. An could scarcely doub~ the public voice see brought him the fa to be beyond all qu fect. But Nuno wa his refusal to take p to leave the young ded; why should P himself? Why sho ties of glory and co ply because he was feetly ridk~u1ous, an feast upon which Ph LOVE AND AMBITION. was a great feast to be giver s ~nd chiefs of his army, ai It was the policy of De ~ is people in regard to the ex ons of those whom he was to nt of his wife. To this feas uguese brothers were invited t recovered from his illness, lip. He had fully resolved ,-we have seen with what: and felt that he had not mad s, and that he could never b~ do. But his chief reason, p of favor in the eyes of OlivI nsented to his prayer, the con traction in his eyes. His am e increased in fervor. His y become subdued in the bi: passion. If Olivia smiled, ~ nothing fur its golden treasu: offer were worthless, in c he was hopeful. That Oliv. Her eyes had shown it- ed to proclaim it; and Nun orable reports of his gay yoi stion, and solemnly assured not prepared to countenance rt in the expedition. He hii md beautiful creature whom] Liilip de Vasconselos be mor Lild so brave a cavalier refuse quest, and great treasure, a i lover? The notion seeme he greatly resented the ab~ [lip had resolved. 809 by the Adelan- id the principal oto to keep up edition, and to Leave behind him /, as a matter of and Andres, the had resolved to not to accom- eason. He en~ e himself friends ~come the favor- rhaps, lay in the a de Alvaro. If luest of Florida ition had grown passion for ad- 'th and growth rhat was Florida ~es. The pearls )Iflparison with a loved him he hier emotions-. ~ de Tobar, who ing wife, held it him to this ef- e the lover in aself was about ie had just wed- anxious than all opportuni- rid power, sim- I to him per- ence from tho page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 PHIL1"S OBJECTIONS TO FIJQR1IL4. yA~OOS8E3LO$. "It will never do, Philip," said he. "Brit it must do, Nuno," answered the other gayly. "What should I do at this supper? I shall not be a favorite, if present. I shall win none of Do Soto's smiles, and, in truth, I care not to win them i-and I shall not be missed if absent. There will be enough to shout their hopes and desires, and to respond, with sweet echoes, to the fine promises of Do Soto. Th~re will b~ enough for the wine, at all events, and I should be ~nly out place in a scene for which my temper does not fit m~. Beside, my presence will only have the effect of persuading the Adelaul- tado that I will yet accompany the expedition." "And you must, Philip; we cannot well do without you.", "I have not been treated, Nuno, as if such were the common opinion." "But it is, no matter how they have treated you; such is their conviction, no less than mine 1" "Then are they the most ungrateful rascals in the world, and the greater fools, too," replied Philip. "But not to vex you, Nuno, (and for your sake I should really wish to go, were it proper that I should, under the present circumstances), I am grown too tender-hearted for wait! Its image now offends me. I see nothing persuasive in the aspect of glory: th~re is nothing sweet in the 'music of a trumpet charge, though it loads to victory. My dream now is of repose, of a sweet solitude in the shade, with a pair of loving eyes looking ever into mine, and the voice of a true heart breathing ever in my ear the music of a passion which asks first for peace-peace-peace! This dream haunts me ever. It tak~s from me the passion as the pride of arms. It compensates fdr all I lose. With Olivia in the country, .1 shall be too happy to repine at any of your conquests." "Now do I almost wish that she may refuse thee.~, "No, thou dost not." "Thou deserves 4t !" "What, for being truer and more devoted to love than to am- bition?" "No, but for thy desertion of thy comrades." "Comrades! Oh good friend and brother of m~ thee, for thou hast l~ een true to me, and full of since I have known thee-dost thou not smile w thy own folly, when thou speakest of my comr cavaliers 9f Do SotO ?" "Am I not thy c9mrade, and wilt thou suffer on this expedition of~ peril ?" "Thou goest wit~i thy comrades, Nuno, but Thozt art a favorite~ where they look upon me They will serve thee with loyalty, and support th thy lance to battle ith' a joy; and exult in thy on mine they look o ly with evil eyes. Follow t and cherish thy pass on for conquest; and none rejoice in thy success s and good fortune than t of Portugal. But th u obey'st a passion which I thou hast encourage ents in which I do not sha not unreasonable, mi amigo, in thy demand that of the peril of an ox edition which promises nei reward, nor favor of ny sort?" Nun& do Tobar wa silenced. His friend had s truth. He changed he subject. "So, none of the Ethiops that I send thee Verily, Philip, for a ~se man thou hast strange ne own! Of what mat or to thee that a negro sla handsome ?" "Not handsome, b t well-looking. Now, all th offered me were amo g the ugliest and most ill-h in the world-models of deformity and ugliness. as these offend my sig t." "It is the common spect of the race." "Ay, but there ar degrees, in which these as offend." "It will be long e e thou art suited. But the De Sinolar, hath pro sed to send me some passab 'inspection; but he wil require a great price for h 311 no, as I will call motherly loving thin thyself at des among the no to go alone iot with min4. with ill favor. ~e; and follow victories. But iy bent, Nuno, till more truly uc poor knight o not feel, and re. Art thou shall partake her pride, nor oken but the will answer? tions of thine o should be so that were oking knaves confess such octs do not silly knight, e urchins for wares, par- page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] 312 VASCONSELOS. ticularly when he knows they are for thee. He regards thee as a dangerous rival." "What! aspires he to Olivia V' "Yes, indeed; and with the approbation, it is thought, of her uncle. De Siiiolar was greatly annoyed at thy success in the tourney, and would have taken lance himself-he avowed-to * encounter thee; but that he had no horse to be relied on, and * lances, he thought, were things quite too frail for a man to peril his honor upon. He hath every confidence in his own skill, strength and courage, but doubts if the wit of man hath yet con. ceived any adequate weapons upon which these may securely rest themselves in th~ tournament. He holds himself in reserve, however, when the becoming implements of battle shall be made." "There is wit in the knight's philosophy. Think you it came from himself ~" "Verily, I do not. He reads much in Amadis and other ad- ventures of chivalry, and the excuse hath an antique fashion. And thou didst not see the Lady Olivia yesterday ~" Philip told of the encounter with the outlaw and the alguazils, and added,- "But, with the blessing of the Virgin, I will seek her to-day. While you are preparing for your feast I shall speed to her dwelling, resolved to put to hazard all my hopes." "She loves thee, Philip! I know it, if I know anything of the heart of woman. She will accept thee, my friend, and thou wilt be happy! But should she refuse thee'?" "ihen, perchance, thou wilt find me beside thee when thou liftest lance against the Apalachian." "I could almost pray, Philip, that she should send thee from her with the blessing of Abaddon, whic~i is said to be very much like a curse And he grasped vigorously the hand of his friend. They sep. arated after some further conversation, and Philip retired to the recesses of his humble lodging. The day passed slowly to our knight. of Portugal. He had 812 HE HOUR OF LOVE. appointed to himself he afternoon for his purposed IL-fe was impatient fo its approach. His soul ww delicious fancies. T uly, as he had said to~ Nunc was deliv~i~ed up t softer influences than those sweet and balmy at sphere he breathed, grateful eating, contributed t the gentle reveries of the h~ur chosen for his sit to the beloved one was p4priate to such an bject. Notody who has not s{l~y conceive, of th balm and beauty-breathing su~h a climate, of the hour which just precedes the rays, bright with Ut heat, stream with soft b~ the green forests, an wrap them in a halo, that in gloriously sweet as g lden. There is a delicious ix soul that delights in g utle reveries in the shadows in the smiling glances of the sun, when he suffuses with the warmest fi shes of orange, green, and region where the exce sive heat and glare of his ligi ungrateful to the eye nd oppressive to the frame, I sarily offends, even a early morning; and the so sympathizes with its several agents, even as one sp or servant the task x ich exposes him to pestiler Thus the spirits sink as the form suffers. The sx the same region redee us the day. It is the day-i that the eye requires It is by a natural instinct region, he who seeks for love chooses this hour, which is lighted by a moon, for his purpose. Th suggest themselves in all climates as the periods w may go forth in quest of its kindred. But here, only periods. Nobody could find eloquence for lo Cuba during the noonday. No damsel would bel alty of the heart that so lacks discretion as to pre: such a time. The day is obtrusive, and love dem~ It is a thing of tremors and timidities. It haunts ti has a consciousness of something in its quest which i too sacred for exposure, or the risk of exposure; a 14 313 visit to Olivia. teeming with de Tobar, he of war. The thotigh ener- lover! The especially ap- felt, can pos- sweetness, in sunset; wheii ~auty through akes them as mystery to the ~t this hour-. 11 the horizon mrple. In a t at noon are he day neces- ii necessarily - ~res his slave ce or storm. .nset hour in he all of day that, in this or the night ~se naturally ~en the heart 3hese are the ye-making in ~eve the by- ~r its suit at ends secrecy. e shade. It b holds quite rid as it only page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] 314 VASOONSELOS. MATEO REQUIRES A FAVOR. 315 whispers when indifference would speak, so it shrinks and hides when audacity and pride go forth. The delicious softness of the hour sunk deeply into his soul, as Philip de Yasconselos passed into the shady and silent defiles leading throughh the thick woods which girdled the hacienda of the lady of his love. The sWeet light from the slant beams of the declining sun flitted from tree to tree before him, like the butterfly wings of a truant fancy. The bright droplets fell, here and there, through the groves, lying about like eyes of fairies, peering through the thick grasses along the slopes. Philip's heart was fairly open to fairy eyes. His soul warmed an was thawed beneath the spells of that winged and fanciful su light. He had thrown aside all the restraints which held him in eck, through policy when amid the crow~. Here was solitude , and silence, and the shade ;-~----and the pathway led to love; ai the smiles of heaven were upon his progress! His step wa free as air; his soul buoyant with hope! He would soon fe t his eyes upon those precious features of the beloved one, rhich seemed to them to make a heaven of the place where t y in- habited! And the great shadows gathered behind hin~i as he ent; and the trees grew motionless; and the woods ceased to b eathe and murmur; and the silence deepened; and the pathway dark- ened; and all was harmony and security! These tran itions increased the sweetness of the scene, and as the glances f the sunlight grew less frequent, they seemed.brighter, and soft , and more tender and touching in the eyes of the lover. Phili went forward, meeting with no interruption. He passed from p. hway to pathway along a route well known. The avenues wi ned: he was approaching the dwelling. In a few moments he ould be in the sight, would be at the feet of her, upon whos word hung all his world of hope and fear. Well might he tr mble with the increase of his emotions. What heart is wholly brave at such a moment 'e and who does not feel, with great mis iving, that, where the anticipation is so pregnant with delicio life, its denial and defeat must bring a pang far greater than at of death '~ It was in the midst of his wildest anticipations ~ bling hopes, that Philip was suddenly aroused to associations, by the appearance of a man suddenly) of the lemon thicket beside him. He drew back, upon his sword. But the voice of the stranger r It was that of the outlaw Mateo, who was alm evidently greatly excited, his eyes dilated, and hi Wing with emotion, "Don't be alarmed, Sefior. I am not your e: your friend! You have done me service, and he] cape from my enemies. I would not now harm a head. I would serve you-ay, do you good service( you from a great evil." "What evil ?" "Come with me!" and he laid his hand respect knight's arm, as if to conduct him forward. "It is thither I am going," said Philip, "but I i my good fellow." "Yes, you must go alone! I know that. But yc to the house. She is not there. She is at the woods. It is there you must seek her. You werc dQn me, Sei'ior,--.to declare your love for the Sefioi "How, sirrah!" "Pardon me, Sei~or, I say again ;-but I kno body in Havana expects it. I mean not to offend. want to serve you. I love you and honor you, ~ gratitude. It is this that makes me say what I d you this way. You must not make love to the Se~ is not for you Seflor,-±she is not worthy of you!" "How, fellow! iDo not provoke me to anger t" "Forgive me, Selior; but give me time, and g time. Just come with me now;" and he almost forward. "There,-into that avenue-follow it- ~ou to the summer-house. Go forward-go alone-j go softly--.softl~y......say nothing, but look ;~-.se nd most trem- nore common springing out and laid hand ~assured him. st breathless, toRes trem- lemy! I am ped me to es- hair of your -would save illy upon the ius~ go alone, u were going ~ower in the going-par..' ita." ~V it ;-every I tell you I ad owe you ),-and lead fiorita. She ~ve yourself [ragged him it will lead ~o quickly-. ~! Thenif 815 page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] S1~ VASCONSELOS. you 'wil,---.tell the Senorita that you love her-that you c~ make her your wife!" There was something in all this proceeding which was s~ est and so startling, that, though it offended the proud kni~ cause oti3he freedom of the outlaw's maimer, he did not f~ showing anger. Indeed, he was too much startled, too s~ impressed with a nam~Aess terror, to be altogether consc the extent of the liberty which Mateo had taken. He that Olivia was in danger, and vague notions of serpe 1~igers rose before his imagination. Intuitively, he obe tutor, and darted into the alley. "Softl~r, softly!" cried the outlaw, following close In a few momentss he reached the summer-house. " Go up the steps-in-the Seflorita is there. Go see; but softly, very softly, and do not speak ! " Philip obeyed, an~d ascended the steps of the verand curtains were lifted; he disappeared among the colum Mateo waited without, among the groves. He had n~t] wait. Scarcely had Philip disappeared from his sight, w form was again seen, emerging from among the column single hollow groan escaped him. Mateo darted forx~ meet him, and the knight staggered down the steps, almd ing into his arms. The outlaw hurried him into the thic "Quickly, quickly!" said he.-" He will have hea groan.". Philip staggered away, without offering opposition. swam; his knees tottered beneath him. F' ~ am very faint 1" said he. "Rest here" answered th~ outlaw, conducting him to a seat enveloped in shrubbery, and almost forcing him do it, while he plucked an orange from the shrub-tree abo and in a second laid its rich juices open with a knife. "No!" exclaimed Philip, after a pause, rejecting the and staggering up from the seat-." I cannot rest here, where! Let us away! away from this place!" mete earn. ht he- I like naibly us of ancied sand dhis ehind. ook- the s, and ong to en his s.A rd to t fall- t. that s head ooden upon e him, range, or any THE SPELT4 BROKEN. "You have seen'?" "No mQre! Do not ask me;" and the knigl covered his eyes with his hands. "Stay for a moment!" said the outlaw-" ~ and give him this!" and he lifted his huge mach and looked tha matador about to strike. "No!" hastily answered the knight,-laying the arm of the outlaw. "It must not be! Put Whatisitto us? wJ~iatisittous? Letusgoh And he started forward, blindly, and once mo tion of the summer-house. "That is not the way! That leads you back With a shudder, Philip wheeled about, and hu opposite direction; the outlaw following him resp silence. ~ the same silence they wound their w thickets of lemon and orange. When they appro of the estate, Mateo stopped suddenly "I must go no further. Here I must leave must not risk exposure." Philip grasped his hand. "Thanks, my good fellow, thanks! I have n give. You have done me good service; but at what suffering!" "Could it be otherwise, Senor'? ~ "No! I thank you. It is well! you have sa great misery, by giving me a great hurt. I w means to reward you. But I thank you! I than groaned heavily. "I ask no reward, Sefio~r. I am only too hap I wish I could serve you forever. I feel that I you;, and for any true man like you! But I can't one, and a beast! I would be happy to go with But there, Don Balthazar would know me through And yet, I might get over that. Let me go now, And a new impulse seemed to seize upon the 817 it of Portugal, hile I go back, ~te as he spoke, ~iis hand upon up your knife. ace!" e in the direc- ~ried off in the ~ctfully, and in ~y through the ~ched the verge rou, Sei'ior. I thing more to ~hat expense- red me from a ~uld I had the you!" and he y to serve you. could work for work for a bad ~ou to Florida. Li any disguises. Senor. outlaw, the ex~ page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] 318 YASOONSELOS. pressing in his face declaring, as fully as words, the re' purpose in his mind. "No! not till you promise me you will do. nothing I matter. I see what you mean. But, if you slay him~, you her! Let him live. You cannot go with me to Florida. not that I shall go myself. Stay where you are. Gel to your mountains. But, as you live, and as you love me, t not a syllable of this! Farewell 1" With these words, ~nd having received the outlaw's pr Philip de Vasconselos turned away. "It is gone 1" he murmured to himself as he went. gone, the hope, the brightness, and the joy! all gone! Oh! what a ruin !" and he again covcxred his face with his ha if to shut out a spectacle of horror. "Oh! would that. I monster in a fair field, with only sword and dagger !" Thus exclaiming, he disappeared from sight. Mateo sa into covert, and soon he heard the voice of Juana in the He suffered her to approach him. She had followed th of her brother and the knight. She had seen them as t the summer-house, upon which it would seem that she, al been keeping watch. "What have you seen, Juana ?" demanded the outlaw "All!" "Ah.! all! You do not mean that-" "Yes! Isaw when you and Don Philip went towards t mer-hous~. I was in the thicket. When the knight of P came down the steps and groaned so loudit roused Dc thazar. He came out soon after you, and looked about hi I lay close. But, seeing nothing, he Went back again." "Well! what's done can't be undone; but look you, you whisper a word of this to anybody, I'll slit your Do you hear now '~ Well! remember; I am just the m~ what I promise, though you are my own sister." ewed this xpose know back eathe misc, "It is Jesu! ids, as .ad the k back ticket. steps ~y left ~ernIy. e sum- rtugal n Bai- rn, and Lana, if ongue. a to do * CHAPTER.XXV.I. "I've done myjeurney here; my day is out;. All that the world has else, is foolery, Labor a~ad loss of time. What should I live for ?" ESAUMONT AND FLnrcmut. "WHAT remains, but that I should seek Florida-seek the wilderness-the solitude-the strife !-forget-forget! Oh! Lethe, would thou wert not a fable!" Such were the muttered exclamations of Philip de Vasconse- los, as he went, almost blindly forward, on his way to his lowly abode. "It is all over! all blasted! The dream-the too precPus dream! Jesu! that it should end thus! How should it be so!. How should she-so fair, so gentle, so seeming pure and an- gelic !-A-lla! Ha! Ha! It is not wonderful! It is a truth- an experience old as the hills! When came the tempter ever, save in garments of an angel of light! It is the one power which he possesses, over all others, of seeming, to mortal eyes, the thing he is most unlike I And how nearly had I fallen into the snare! how blind, neither to see nor to suspect! But for this outlaw-this slave-I had been a lost man-sold to a delu- sion-expending my soul upon a phantom-layIng my best affections in tribute upon an altar which devotes them ull to shame! Yet, I cannot thank him! He hath, at a word, in a mo- ment, by a spell, robbed me of the one glad, joyous vision of my life! I had but one hope, and he hath destroyed jt! I knew but one desire, and he hath made it death !~ What now should I live for ~ Of what avail that I am young, and fearless, and skilled in arms~ and all noble exercises ~ The - motive for per- formance is go~ e, and the life goes With it. All is a blank be- 319 *1 page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] 320 YASCONSELOS. fore me; all cheerless, all bitterness; a long paste of da and denial !" And he threw himself down hopelessly by the wa Darkness had settled down; but the stars were coming gently and paJely, looking like the spectres of past plc The dist~int lights of the city were present to his eyes also. were torches flaming upon the farthest hills, and pyres wer ing before booths and camps, from which rose faintly, a~ vals, the sounds of merriment. Gay laughter and sho heard, or fancied, rising from rustic groups engaged in t dango; and anon, but more faintly, he caught the tinki guitar rising from some bohio or cottage, in the contigno low of the hills. "They laugh I they shout! they sing; as if there we a shadow upon the earth-as if guilt and shame had not the fairest aspect under heaven! Jesu, to be so bea~tW sweet to the eye-to acquire such power, through sunniest c over the soul, and yet to fail in the one great virtue which makes all dear things precious to the heart! But, is it s it true? Have I not been deceived? Am I not betray treachery and cunning? May it not all be a delusion senses? Is it sure that it was she? iDid not mine eyes me; and, while there is a doubt, shall I give faith to an ass so terrible-so revolting-so fatal to the loveliest work o en! It was dusk-the woods were thick-the sunbeams pierce them-the curtains hung around, darkening the cha -there was a woman, but is it certain that she was Olivia Olivia! the pure, the proud, the beautiful? Was I not too to believe the accursed suggestion of the outlaw; was ~hc contrivance for my ruin-for her ruin? What if I return an and, if it be true, what should keep me from slaying Ii least, and looking her to stone with eyes of .scornfulne~ hate!" But he did not rise. He could not doubt. He could r lude himself into the thought. that what he ha~1 seen was a delusion of the senses. It was too true-too real-and the kness -side. ut, si~ ~ures. There burn. inter. LtS, he .e fan- of a s hol- e not ouled and arms, alone ? Is d by f the ceive rance heav- d not 15cr! my eady c no see; m, at and t de- mere more THE STRONG MAN'S GRIEF. 321 he strove to disj~ el the conviction, the more it grew to strength, and took possession of his soul; filling it with a nameless and indescribable ho~ror. For an hour he lay thus upon the earth, delivered to despair. There was no ref~igc for hope in thought, and he lay brooding, with an aimless mind, and an agonized spirit. At last, he rose. The strong man rarely sinks below a certain point. He may be overwhelmed, like the weakest, by a shock, at once ter~7ible, revolting, and unexpected: but the heart gathers its forces aftei~ a season, and nature compels the proper efforts for her own recovery and repose. The grief may remain, but it does not o~crcome~ It may prove a lasting blight to the hope, the fancy, 1~he affections; but there is a calm resolution which enables th~ sufferer to live and to perform; for perform- ance is, beyond a~l other things, the natural law, and the neces- sity of th& true -ian; and even the sorrow, which wounds and blights the heart, ~serves to strengthen the noble courage and the indomitable will. Philip de Vascon~elos rose from the earth at last. He had become somewhat more composed. iHis will and character were beginning to assert themselves. He was still the master of himn~elf/ He rose alid! went forward, sadly, slow- ly, but resolutely; endeavoring, with all the calm he could com- mand, to shape the course for his progress in the future. This was soon decided in his mind. The lights of the city grew before his eyes. The torches and camp-fires, along ~he hills that skirted the city, became mqre glaring, and cast their great red shadows upon his path. Tihe voices of merriment, the songs, the shouts, the joyous crh*s a~id laughter, with the tinkle of pleasant instruments, became louder and more frequc~1t on his ear. Suddenly, his eye caught a glimpse of the bug, temporary structure, of poles, covered with palm branches, a d the broad leaves of other trees, in which the knights were reve ling at the last festivities of the Adelantado. "What murmured Philip, "but that I go with thk expedition? Wh~it matters it to me, now that I am no favorite? I ask no favors, here are blows and danger to be encountered among the Apalacliian, and he who is armed as~ I am now, against page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] 322: YASCONSELOS. ~ll terrors, can make himself a favorite, by making him~ ful. What better region in which to bury my sorro~ hide my anguish from vulgar eyes? Where 'can I mor~ escape from this agony of thought? 'In the fierce stril will be{orgetfulness; and forgetfulness will be the most~ of hopes, even though it comes only through the emb+~ death. I will go with Nuno !" Under this new impulse, he hurried forward rapidly the scene of festivity, as if fearing to trust himself to think upon the subject of his progress. It'was not long b~ reached the place; the shouts from within, the music, his ears with a sense of pain, without, however, impa~ resolution to join the revellers,-to engage in their expd The structure in which the Adelantado and his Floridi~an held their feast was, as we have said, a rude, simple 'faI~ signed only for the temporary purpose. It consisted shafts, green trees freshly cut and thatched with bam~ - fresh bushes. It was fantastica~lly adorned in a style w~ climate and productions of' the country naturally suggest eye of taste. The flag of Spain, the banners of De Sot' the several captains, were disposed happily around th ment. Green leaves and gorgeous flowers were wreath the columns, declaring visibly the wealth of the delicioi ~of which they were the natural tribute. Fruits in' gay hung down, within reach from the rafters: the luscious~ mellow banana, the juicy and fragrant orange. Of th( ion fc~ the feast, it will be much easier for the reader inc than for us to describe. Enough that the Adelantad knights of the expedition had done their best to require pitalitie~ of the Islanders in a fashion worthy of their ow had expended no small part of the treasures remaining f~ outfit, in doing the honors gallantly and with becoming tion. They not only provided, as it was the custom of try of the' city and country to provide, but they studios cured dishes such as they had merely heard described, a~ ether; the better to outdo deseription--." Exhausted eates, If fear. 5, and surely there precious ce with owards further fore he ssailing L'ing his lition. ~hivalry nc, de. slender )OO and ich the d to the and of apart- d about s region festoons ine,~the provis- o imag- and the he hos- They' om theii ostenta- the gen- isly pro- fancied and then THE FEAST. 328 imagined new." The turtle, fresh from t~he sea, furnished the only soup,-a first course, whiqh was served~p in the uncouth mon- ster's own, shell; game and domestic poultry, including doves from the c~te; young peacocks, their plumage artfully disposed about the birds fter they were made ready by the cook for the table, so as almost to represent the living creature, his gay streamers of green, and purple, and gold, looking as bright and fairy like as when he unfolds them to sight, strutting and spreading himself abroad from court and verandah. Some dishes were pre- pared formed wholly of the tongues of singing birds; and we may add, were eaten with an appetite such as might be assumed to originate only with a hope to win the musical powers of the member thus hushed forever. The unripened plantain was sliced and browned in sugar by the fire;. or, roasted, was macer- ated with the inspissated juices of the cane. This course, by the way, was preceded by one consisting wholly of sea and shell-fish, and was succeeded by fruits of more than twenty kinds, all na- tives of the island. 'Fresh guayavas, fragrant ananas, bananas and sapadillos, yielded themselves to delighted palates in deli- cious sympathy with wines of' Xeres, which had already began to circulate with potency before Philip de Vasconselos entered the assembly. He entered at a moment when De Soto was addressing his audience. The Spanish language is one of equal grandeur and beauty; the Spanish character is necessarily one of ambition and hyperbole. The language of a people usually declares for its character in its best days. We know from other histories how a language may exhibit more vitality than a people; how glori- ously it survives them. A language, known through its literature, is perhaps the only durable monument of a people. Dc Soto, as' is well known, was an accomplished cavalier, greatly distin- guished at a period when Spain could claim a host of heroes. It is not so well known that he was an accomplished speaker, thoroughly master of the arts of language, versed in its delica- cies, and practised in ~ll its graces. His audience listened to him with ecstasy, and rounded his sentences with their vivas and page: 324-325[View Page 324-325] ~24 VAS~ONSEIJGS. PHILIP'$ DEF]~NCE. 826 braves. He dwelt upon that superiority of character whk ulted in adventure . The art of war, he contended, and its ecution in new lands, was, perhaps, the very noblest and god-like of all human arts. He spoke of the greatness nation, a~ particularly renowned for the use of this art, in it~ inspiring exercises. He painted fame and glory, bright2 purelyand grandly, a~ they appear always to youth ai~d entei and dwelt upon the progresses of Cortez and Pizarro in I~ and Peru-subjects, in hearing the report of which, the Ca ear could never tire. By a natural transition he came to of their present adventure in the wilds of Florida. lie di disparage the valor of the red men of Apalaehia, nor seek to the picture of danger which he drew as a necessary conseque~ the enterprise; but he insisted upon the utter impossibility valor of the red-men as able to stand for a moment before warriors as he led to the encounter. He particularly dwelt up great treasures of the country, its glorious cities hidden in the I of mighty mountains; its treasures of gold and silver; its to be gathered in heaps along its shores; arguments whi we~lI knew, were beyond all others, in persuading young tion and greedy avarice to ~s banners. At the close, Philip de Vasconselos enter, he took the opportunity of thr4 out a few bitter sarcasms upon the timid, the laggard, the the souls deficient in ~true courage and noble enterprise, wh( back when an occasion so glorious was offered to t cir eye The glances of the assembly follo~ved those of th Adela~ and rested upon the flushed countenance of Philip. He ss direction given ~to the words of De Soto, and felt t e purp~ the latter to inifict a sting upon his pride and hea t. He proudly when the Adelantado had finished,' and 1 ked s ~.round the assembly. It ~vas surprising how comp sed he He appeared fully to have recovered himself; and though graver as the occasion, seemed to require, he was uite as and calm as if he labored under no other provocat on thai whioh he h~d just received. Never was individual le s daunt the circumstances in whic1~ he stood. He saw that here w~ I ex- pros. most his most and crise, exico Lilian peak I not ~ssen Ce of C any such n the )sOm earls ~h, he ~mbi- ecing wing veak, hung tado, ~v the se of rose ernly was. very firm that ~d by sdis- satisfaction-certainly constraint-in the faces of nearly all around him; reflecting that in the countenance of the Adelantado, who scarcely acknowledged, with a stately bend of the head, the measured but courteous approach of our hero, and the deepening shadows upon whose~ brow argued o friendly welcome for what he might say.. But Philip was little oved by these unfriendly au- spices. He respected De Soto as brave and noble cavalier, distinguished equally by talents an graces, and high in favor of his sovereign; bust his respect and admiration were not so pro- found as to cause him to suffer any ortification from the loss oi1~ his favoring countenance, lie advanced towards the dais which had been assigned to the Adelantado, raising him a little above the re~t of the assembly,-.passing through the crowd with exceed- ingly deliberate pace, until he stood but a few paces from the person he addressed. "Your Excellency," said he, "has been pleased to indulge in certain remarks of censure upon that unambitious, unperforming and timid class, who, bred to arms, are yet reluctant to engage in the honorable adventure to which you invite them. I cannot deceive myself as to the fhct, that certain in this assembly are disposed to make these remarks applicable to the person who now addresses you. I trust it is not necessary to say here that for any one who would impute to me the want of courage, I have but a single answer, and that lies at the point of my weapon; be it lance, or sword, battle-axe, or dagger. I am ready to enconuter any questioner. That I have been slow in. resolving to accompany this expedition, has been no fault of mine. I came hither from my own land for this very purpose; and until I reached havana, I knewno disposition to change my determination. It will be admitted, I think, that the encourage- ments offered to me for this adventure, however, have been very few; and, perhaps, were I to say the truth, I should describe the course taken with me as designed specially to rebuke the pre- sumption which had prompted me to seek a place under the banner of Castile." page: 326-327[View Page 326-327] 826 VA~C0NSEL0S. THE SUDDEN RESOLVE. 827 "Not so, Sefior, not so, by God 1" exclaimed De rupting him energetically. '~ Be this as it may, your Excellency, it is one of 1 upon, which I do not dwell; for, to me, war and adve their own encouragements; and it is found, always of danger, that no one's sword is amiss that does g n our side. I have no fear that in the day of trial, t prove my right to be present where blows are ec~ived. Encouragement I need not,~-discourag ever chill my enterprise or lessen my strength. rj ted to engage under your banner when I came here ther ~nfluetices, which De Soto smiled grimly. Philip saw the smile, ~ as suddenly flushed with crimson. "But it matters not," he proceeded, "to say wher ated to declare my purpose. It will suffice, your o say that I ~m now prepared, if permitted, to accor expedition to the country of the Apalachian-a coun somewhat know already-a people with whom I hs ad fierce as well as amicable intercourse,-and amo ay be found, that my presence shall work for go xcellency's enterprise." This said, Philip de Vasconselos bowed court~ almly wheeling about, made his way back to the e had entered the apartment. The Adelantado-.the as taken completely by surprise. Nothing could ore unexpected to all ears. De Soto spoke in re ingly, and with warm compliment. Other voices fol the same burden. But Philip neither heard nor li~i ~ras making his way out, when his hand was sudden] that of his brother Andres. ~ "Brother I" was all that the latter said. "Andres, my brother!" exclaimed Philip, throwii round the neck of the youth, while a sudden gush of qverfull fountains blinded his eyes. No more was s~ Sotoj12 hose thi ature ca in the t ood ser I shall given ement 'hat I I was du er. ngs rr.y ime 7iCe fail md will esi. to nd his l'ace ifore I Excelle ~pany ~ Iry whi ye airE ig whox 4 to ~ ously, )lace w. audiern have I )ly app towed ~ ened. 3r seize g his tears f id bet'v~ Ecy, our h I ~dy 1 it our ere ~en 'ov- rith He by xm om ~en them. Such was their reconciliation. The speech of Philip had taught Andres-strangely enough-that the passion of his brother for Olivia de Alvaro had proved as fruitless as his own. Why? This was the mystery which none could solve. Philip tore him- self away from the brief embrace, and was hurrying out, when Nuno de Tobar rushed up, and, warmed with wine, caught him exultingly in his arms. "But how is all this, Philip V' At that moment Don Balthazar de Alvaro suddenly entered, and was passing very near them. Instinctively, Philip grasped the handle of his sword, and his eyes were fastened upon the uncle of Olivia, with such an expression as made the latter start, as at the approach of a famished tiger. Philip recovered him- self in a moment, turned away from the face of him whom he longed to destroy, and was followed out by Nuno int&ihe open air. "Tell me," said the latter, "how comes this change ?" "Do not ask me, Nuno; enough that-I go with you." "Holy Mother, but your looks, Philip ~ "Heed them not-heed me not-let me leave you, Nuno, I am not fit for this assembly." "But you have been to see Olivia-you have seen her ?" "I hctve seen her 1" "And she refused you ?" "No !-I have not spoken with her." "Seen her-but not spoken !-What! Your courage failed you at the last moment-you had not the heart ?" "I had not the heart !" "Jesu! man! What weakness is this ?" "No weakness No more, Nuno. There is that which puts an eternal barrier between Olivia de Alvaro and myself-aj.ar- rier deep as the grave, impassable as hell. I can tell you nothing. You but distress me when you ask-ask nothing. From this moment name her not to me, Nuno, unless you would make me your foe for ever t" page: 328-329[View Page 328-329] CHAPTER XXVII. "Cend. ArnZrea. Speak, pale slave I what said she? My Lord, 'tw~s what she looked. She said: 'Go, tell my father that I see the gulf Of Hell between us two, which he may pass; I will not,' " SHELLEY DoN BALTHAZAR was greatly surprised by what he h ~embIy, of the declared purpose of Philip de Vas company the expedition. It was a surprise to ev w much more to him! Such unexpected good f rdly to be hoped for. The danger, now, of a su ~ce, so likely to be successful, no longer threatened ~ first moment when he learned the fact, he felt ng sense of triumph. But soon he asked. himself; ~den a change wrought in the purposes and feeli ight of Portugall Bat a day before, he was kn ger and determined in his purpose to address Ol~ pe of success was good, and every voice encouraged tion of his. suit. Why the change in his purpo milip had not addressed his niece, Don Balthazar wa~ in. That they .had no interview, he was assured. d received no written communication he was equally was clear that Philip, without testing his hopes at all nly abandoned them. Wherefore ~ The question ~gger the inquirer. Guilt is ~always a thing of terr4 covery of such guilt as that of Don Balthazar, ~ rrible to the conscious fears within his bosom. H e significance of that look which Philip had cast came into the assembly, and readily divined ~iich puzzled all other persons. 228 The Cenc ~ard in 1 onselos ~irybody rtune ~ itor to him. in exhil Low was rigs of wn to ivia. ] the prc e~T quite ~ That confld~ had ~ began r, and as don] e now ~ on him e iiiyst4 [me to as 'is so he be [is it at he 3±. Ld- to he ly Lw as ry T~E GUILTY CONSOIENOITh "TJe has discovered all !" was his secret thought. "Yet how ?" Here was the farther difficulty. "What-was the discovery which Philip had made ~' "To what degree was he com~nitted by it ?" His anxieties increased with his unuttered inquiree, addressed to himself But Don Balti~azar had a rare faculty of self-c6nceal- ment. His secretiveness was a large development in his moral orgai~~tion. He could smile, and look calmly about him, and engage in the frivolous conversation of society,----jn all* the business of the crowd-seemingly unrnoved,-while t~ie vultures of doubt, and dread,~ and conscience, were all at work tearing at his vitals. He joined in the talk going on in the assembly. In this way he might obtain some clues to the secret of Philip. But he learned nothing satisfactory. One fact, however, he gathered from all that was said, which seemed to weigh upon his thoughts; and that only related to the sudden appearance of the knight of Portugal, at a late hour, in fact not many minutes be- fore himself. "Where had he been till that hour ?" While ask- ing huinself this q~iestion, Nuno de Tobar reappeared within the circle. "I will sound him /" was the unexpressed resolution of the Don, as he sauntered around, gradually winding his way towards the place where Nuno had taken his seat. The counte- nance of the latter was troubled. His mind was in some confu sion, as well from the wine he had taken, as from the conference with Philip. But the approach of Don Balthazar served, in sOme degree, to steady his intellect, and make him cautious. He knew that Olivia's uncle had bcen hostile to his friend. It had not es- caped the notice of Nuno, that the glance with which Philip had met Don Balthazar, but a few moments before, was that of a de- termined, if not a savage hatred. Sympathizing earnestly with his friend, Niino shared, in some degree, his hostile sentiments. lie had himself never been the friend of Don Balthazar, ~nd was now more than ever disposed to regard him as an enemy. In some way, he felt assured that the present sufferings of Vas. conselos, and his abandonment of Olivia, were due to the evil in- fluence of her unefe. Thus feeling, he was sobered by the approach of the Don; as hc ha ni th at Si] P1 ta It st di te t1~ w page: 330-331[View Page 330-331] 880 VASCONSELOS. LEONORA'S SAGACITY. made reserved and cautious; as the good soldier when in an enemy's country, and marching thrc proper for snares and ambuscades. Besides, by pri ment, might he 'nOt find out something in respect to Don Baithazar probably knew the cause of Phi There might have been* an open rupture between Baithazar, like Philip, had been absent from the fe late hour. They had reached the assembly at ne time. Might not their mutual absence, and arrh due to a common cause? Nuno determined to s( ter. He would probe the inquirer. His mind co- his feelings and his instincts, became cool, searching and Don Balthazar extracted nothing from him. 'j little successful in penetrating the bosom of the D~ cool and circumspect-.was, perhaps, to be expected rated after a profitless and brief confer~iiZe, which s~ But if Don Balthazar extracted nothing from N' wife of the latter was something more successful. had few concealment. Scarcely had he reached h warmed with the festivities in which he had shared excited by the nature of the mystery which oppre~ he began his revelations. "Would you believe it, Leonora, it is all over Olivia? There is a breach between them, whicl2 impassable! He has joined the expedition. W it, he does not say; but he tells me that there i~ matte?; that she is nothing to him now." "Blessed Maria!, what does it mean? Has sh4 Foolish, foolish creature! But she always said if "But she has not! He has not asked her! II so many words." "And I don't believe a word of it! You me: and vain that you never 'like to confess to a reje way with all of you. Be assured that Philip ha She said she would refuse him, bi~t I did not belie'~ she loves him. But she is so strange. It does is apt ugh a Ldent ni this m~ lip's cc them ~tivities ~rly th ral hay arch th )peratll ~ and v lat he )n-hal The tisfied I mo, the From ~me tha so free sed hin 4th Ph Philip hat has an end refuse at she~ e told I ~ are si )tion. been e her. appear 0 feel 'egion mage. ~tery ~ aduct. -Don until a same been ~ mat. ~ with giant, was as Ltually sepa. either. young her he night, .y, and when lip and says is caused of the Jhim? ~ould." te soin proud ?t's the refused. I know to me, sometimes, as if she "yere not in her right mind. And to refuse so nice a cavalier! I wonder where she expects to find another like him. But it's not her doing, I'm sure, not her own heart! It's that cross-grained uncle that she has. He has done it all. I wonder what is the secret of his power over her. I'm sure she hates him. But he rules her in spite of it - and he has compelled her to refuse him." "I don't believe it, child; for I believe Philip, and he positively assured me that he tiad not asked her. He's not the man to lie, or to be ashamed of rejection. He has no such weakness. He was very earnest about it-very miserable,-.and entreated me never again to speak to him on the subject." "Then I'm sure she has refused him. Did he say he had *not seen her ?" "No! I knew that he went to the hacienda late in the after- noon, and he admits that he saw her, bi~t did not speak to her." "Now, as if that were reasonable, -Nuno." "It is certainly very strange. I can't see into it." "But I do; and the whole mystery lies in the one fact that he' has simply been rejected, and his pride will not confess it. lie has been mortified by refusal, when he counted confidently on success. And I confess, I counted on it too; for though Olivia always said that she would refuse him, yet I know that she loves him desperately, and as she will love no other man. But it is all the doing of Don Balthazar. He hates Don Philip-he hates both the brothers-I have seen that a thousand times. But what arc his hates to her,. and how has he succeeded in' making her sa-. crifice her love to them? What is the secret of his power to control her against her own happiness and will? That is the se- cret which I should like to find-out !" "You are right, I suspect, in ascribing it all to her uncle. Philip is not the man to be rejected by any woman in a hurry, and I am convinced, like yourself that Olivia r~ully loves him as s~ie will be likely.to love no other persJn. But there is some ii~ystery in the whole affair. The poor girl is very unhappy. ~ hat I have long seen, and Don Balthazar i~ at the bottom of all page: 332-333[View Page 332-333] 332 YASCONSELOS. A SEAILCH 1'OR A SECRET. 333 her troubles. lie manages her property, and has, little of his own. He will be very unwilling to resi which this" gives him into the hands of any other only wonder is that she does not see this, and assert dence. She has sense enough to understand her ri is so weak,-so timid~---" "You mistake her there! Olivia ~s a woman o passions,~ and can be very firm and obstinate u~ What surprises me is, that'she does not assert her v the strength of her passion, in an affair which so de her own happiness, and where her heart is evident terested., This is the difficulty. I do not won Baithazar should oppose and deny, but that she s and the question is, how does he obtain this powe rule her as he pleases, against her own affections, self is possessed of none~ Qf them." "Yet, it is his influence certainly, that has som the affair to this unfortunate conclusion, and Ph Had you but seen the look which he gave Don they met to-night. His fingers clutched the handl convulsively, and the gleam of, hatred in his eyes with such an expression of horror and disgust, a in mortal eye before. I shall never forget it." "Still, I think that they will come together y him, I tell you, beyond all other persons. She V herself to be deprived of him, if she can help it think she could survive it. I tell you, Nun Don Philip, and she will marry him yet, in spit thazar." "Yes, perhaps ;-and yet, from what Philip s will hardly depend upon her. He used the strong "Oh! a fig for the strong language of a lover. means always! ~. He will forget his resolution as his eyes upon her, and looks into her pale sweet the soft silvery voice that answers to his own. under the first feeling of vexation ai~d anger. H K ~ suspe~ gn the erson. her in~ ~hts; 1; very ~on oc~ kill, and ~ply coi so mi ~er thai ~ould su ~, by wi when h ehow b: lip feel althaza of his ~vas mi~ 3 I neV ~,t. 5h 11 neve and I , she i ~ of Dc Id to-nd ;t langu~ [know loon as race, an [e is no talks s ~, but cwer The epeti- Lit she ~trong asion. show cerns ch in- Don mit ich to him. ought this. when word ed up r saw ,loves suffer don't lolizes Bal- ht, it hat it ~e lays hears only if he would tear her to pieces, no doubt; but let him sleep upon it, and lie will rise in the morning to renew his worship." "Philip de Vasconselos is like no other man, I know." "Ah! you are mistaken. In some things all men are pretty much alike; and in an affair of love-where there is real love- your strong cavalier and stately Don are just as feeble as the man of silk and velvet. You are all pretty much alike-all easily overthrown-where women are concerned." "It is a very strange affair throughout." "I'll find it out to-morrow, if I live. I'll. see Olivia in the morning, and she must have sharper wits, and greater strength, than I believe, if., she can hide the secret much longer from my eyes. You will admit that if Philip has seen her, then the prob- ability is that she has refused him." "He himself admits that he has seen her-seen her this very day, but denies that he has spoken with her. The re is the diffi- culty-that is the surprising fact." "Seen her, but not spoken with her! You say he went to see her, and did see her, but said nothing 'P' "Yes; that is precisely what he asserts." "Oh! he means no more than this-that he did not propose." "It may be-yet he spoke very precisely and positively." "Well, Olivia will be able to answer that. She will, at all events, confess that there was an interview; though she may tell me nothing of what passed between them. If she says so much as that, you will readily suppose that Don Philip has simple kept back something which his pride will not suffer him to con- fess." "Yes ;-though how to believe it of Philip-how to suppose him so weak, or to think that he should keep back the truth from me-that is what troubles me." "Well, leave it till the morrow'!" said the wife. With the morrow, eager to penetrate the mystery, Leonora de Tobar prepared, at an early hour, to visit her friend. She found, unexpectedly, the uncle and niece together. Olivia was looking paler than usual, and wore an exhausted and suffering page: 334-335[View Page 334-335] 334 VASCQNSEL~S. appearance~ Her eyes ~eavy, unobse pressionless. Her whole mental nat~ire seemed nioved like an automaton; welcor~ed her gues dream; and sunk back upon the settee, after the one wor~i out with long watching. Ii~eonora was qi as ever, and for a while talked~aboutKa hundred nc ters quite foreign to the one whicl~ filled her 4 longed and waited anxiously for the moment when 1 of Don Balthazar would afford her the opportul desired for broaching the one subject for which al But, as if he divined her object, he eemed no wa, take his departure. He bore patient ly the torrent which, with the hope of driving him away, she pc a most inexhaustible fountain. But in vain. H4 self with a pile of papers, which he displayed up table soon after her arrival. Busyh g himself in s estimates,.-for Don Baithazar filled evera2l differ in the bureau of the Adelantado- e strove to b the midst of details; and, though t e incessant ears must certainly have defeated e ery attempt investigation, he persevered in the appearance of wearied industry. The patience of Leonora was to contend with that of the veteran , resolved U] She gave way at last, but by no me ns with the in a retreat. She only prepared to ch uge her opers in~at blockade and starvation, she determined b her-purpose by assault. Olivia, all this while, se conscious of-certainly indifferent to,-all that wa~ neither looked up nor listened, nor ad a word t~ was there a more perfect exhibition of apathy, or despair. What to her was all this hild~sh pratt friend'~ What cared she for that s all personal t~ the burden of all her conversations Sh~ had nei heart, nor head, nor memory, nor ense, for all I or had been said. She was, in tr th, laboring 1 aberration of mind, the result of ugs and evil vant ai stagnantt t as on exertion Lite as 11 nsensic~ ~ioughts he with~ tity wh~ one she ~rs disp~i of sm~ tired ou fortifie on the rmy an~ it depar isy hin~ buzzingg at thoi~ both, v~ not of on an mention tions, a Adly tc ~med qi~ going C say. we mi~ .e, of h( 1k whic ;her mo hat was inder a practice A CHANGE OF OPERATIONS. 835 d ex.. ; she in a ,like ppant mat.. She rawal h she came. sed to Ll talk, from I him- parlor. I navy rentss self in in his ~ht or [th nil. a sort object. ~ o beat d, fail. effect ite Un- She Never lit say r child made nor sayJllg sort of of the whole extent of which, though, in her sane moments, she h~d suspicions, she had really no conscious knowledge except by h~r prolonged sufferings day by day. But, very soon, the conver~a- tion aroused her. The daring Leonora, according to her ne~w plan of operation, now addressed herself to the uncle. Turnh~g to him very abruptly, and when he was least prepared for tI~e assault, she said-. "So, Don Balthazar, we are to lose Don Philip de Vasconseh~s afterr all. The report is, that he joined the expedition last nigh, after a very eloquent speech. But you must have heard it all, and can tell us much better than anybody else." Qlivia looked up with a wild and vacant stare, but the s~n~e seemed to be slowly kindling in her eyes. With a frown, Do~i Balthazar replied: "I do not see what there is to tell. No more, it appears, tha~i you know already. Your husband was present. He, perhaps , remembers the speech, since he regards the knight of Portugal as something of an orator. Let him report it." "Well, I suppose, after this, the fact may be held undeniable; and now the wonder is why he should have left his purj~os.~ doubtful so long. Why, but a week ago, it was in everybody'~ mouth that he was not to go at all-that he had abandoned the expedition altogether." "Well, you admire him the more, I suppose, because of hi~ feminine caprices," was the surly answer. "No, indeed, though I don't see anything amiss in caprices now and then. They are rather agreeable, to my notion. But, in his case, people found good reasons for his refusal to go; better, indeed, than I can find for his present change of mind." "AhI well! good reasons ?" "To be sure! Very excellent reasons, Sefior; they gave him credit for discovering more precious treasures in Havana than he was like to find in Florida, and at less peril of life and comfort; and these were surely good reasons for staying.~~ "Humph 1" quoth the Don, looking askance at Olivia, in N page: 336-337[View Page 336-337] whose eyes th9 returning light of th ~h~g mores intelligent. "~The truth is," continued Leono the admiration of Don Philip for on 1xdy it ~ it was In everybody's celaviodon, I was very sure that 011 for Don Philip as he felt, for her." Olivia sighed involuntarily. The and, turned over his papers dilig said,'~- "I known law which forbids fo b~rs. I suppose it is hardly punis not to be held 'strictly to account fo my niece has given no sufficient re the part of ~any' body, that she ha gratuitously to any rnan~"--to one, in them." "Well, Seli or that is well said by always regulated by the strict letter like birds, whicii will ~break out of open. Affections are strangdy wil apt t~ fly in the face of authority." "You have good reason for sa{ seornfiil sneer of the -Don in retur~m the 'pronoun, and thus making an alKi her amour (which the ehureh had n "i~obar. But~she received it with a c all further attacks of the same sort. "Oh! if you allude to me, Too f enough and sinful enough, and th t tan wwa4y ~with my prudence; and t gc~od~boy, and loved me for my hex I should have been a sad piece of s~ born a woman, Senor, and I. believe I li~x~ver~ so lo~ig. NQW, a won~a ~ught Was n 'a, "nobody i' dear Olivia mouth; and, ja had just a knight ntly. loolke Afte: r, .s to talk aboi able since St what they s on for the. given awt~y'~ eed, who had guardian; b of domestic I age if you 1 ~i things, S ing so, Se~ emphasisin sion suflicie sanctioned) ~l indifferen4~ 'ess that i my affection it that Nun 't5 and not f ~and~al for al will always has a natur ruently ould qi ere. o confe much very S a pau t their ch peoj~ y; huti Lssumpt her a never b hearts ~w. T ~ave th nor, an ra ! with tly obv with N ~ that te bee s very was a r my Ouba. be one, faIth' grrow. stioii very~ s my eg'ard vage~ e, he neigh. le are trust U, On actions ought renot ey are door very as the pause ous to mo de lenced wilful readily dessed .sdom, I was Let in'3 man, VC0~Lk~. A MATCH FOR THE DON. 3~7 as her born guardian, and protector, and lover, and friend; and if he wrongs her faith, he discredits himself; not her. That's my notion in such cases. Don't suppose that you make me feel at all uncomfortable by your hints; for I am willing to admit, to all Cuba, that I was very weak, and very loving-too loving to believe evil of the man I fancied! So now, Don Balthazar, if it pleases you to talk of my affairs, I can't prevent you. It's the fool's privilege, as you have just said, against which there is no law, to say what one pleases of his friends; and you have certainly the same rights as other people; but, in truth, if y~u will ~uffer me, I will speak rather of Olivia and Don Philip, as being just now' much better subjects, and about which I feel much more concerned." The little woman's good nature* actually endowed her with wit and wisdom. Don Balthazar was quite astounded by her audacity. She was invulnerable to his shafts. He looked up, and glared upon her more savagelythan ever, but remained si- lent; and in a moment after, seemed more than ever busy' with his documents. But Leonora went on, and somehow, his in- stinCts prompted him to listen. She might have heard from her husband what the latter had withheld from him; and his doubts had been by no means quieted by the reflections of the pa~t night. Leonora now especially addressed herself to Olivia. "I confess, dear Olivia, that I am surprised and disappointed. I feel vexed at this strange determination of Don Philip, know- ing that he loves you, and i~elieving that you love him, that he should resolve to go without ~addressing you. But perhaps he 1w8 done so, and you have been so foolish as to refuse him! AIm, my child, can it be possible?" The sad eyes of Olivia, now full of expression, anticipated the reply of her lips. "He has not addressed me, Leonora; he has not even been here. I have not seen him since the moment when I was taken sick at the tournament." "Is it possible'?" "True !" said Olivia, very mournfully. "True!" 15 page: 338-339[View Page 338-339] 338~ YASCONSELOS. continued Leonora, after a thoughtful pause- the4~ must be some mistake in this. You certainly ha him within the last two days, though he may not jiave pri to you." "No! I have not." "That is strange !" "Why strange ?" "He has certainly seen you since the tournameAt." "Why do you think so "He told Nuno that he had! Told him so only last iii Don Balthazar could not keep his eyes upon the paperE looked up inquiringly to Leonora. She noted the curic pressing in his eyes, and was determined to wi1~hhold r which should either obtain for herself the secret which s sired, or should goad the haughty Don with reVelations she somehow fancied would annoy him. When, tl~ereforp, anxiously besought her, as to the alleged visit of Philip, si pare4l to tell all that she knew. * "Well, I know that he has been to see you twice in t two days. He came day before yesterday, and was a an encounter which took place in your grounds here bet~ troop of alguazils and a certain outlaw." "A slave-a mestizo ?" involuntarily asked the Don. * "Even so: one Mateo! Philip told Nuno all about ii interposed, finding half a score of persons upon one; ur officers told him how the matter stood, and then he suiferec to proceed. The outlaw made his escape, however; anc Philip then proceeded to visit you, when your girl, Juan him, and told him that you were sick and had retired I night." "When was this ?" demanded Olivia) with strange calm "Two days ago only." OliVia rose and called Juana. The girl was close at Ii had been listening, in fact, at the door. She made her a ance, and on being asked, confirmed the story. "Why did you speak a falsehood, Juana ?" LIGflT BREAKING IN. ~' nay, e seen posed He is ex- )thing ie de. which Olivia .e pre~. ~e last ~ty to sen a *He ~il the them Don ~, met )r the 839 The gh'l hung her head and made no answer. Olivia turned to Leonora. "You say that Don Philip came here again, Leonora? Was here yesterday?" "Yes-so he assured Nuno last night." "When? at what hour?" "Last evening-about 'dusk." "And saw me 9" "So he said; but, strangely enough, he mentioned that though he saw you, he did not speak to you. Yet he came to speak. He came to offer you his hand." Olivia pressed her hands upon her heart, with a look of inde- scribable suffering. Don Balthazar arose, somewhat agitated, and approached Leonora. "You say, Sefiora, that Don 'Philip was here last evening? Last evening !" "Yes." "And at dusk ?" "About that time. He came hither about sunset. Nuno saw him when he left his lodgings to make the visit, and he told him all about it." "And he saw me?" said Olivia. "Where was I?" "In the summer-house, Sefiorita !" was the voluntary reply of Juana, who had been eagerly waiting to speak. "It is a mistake I" said Don Balthazar-" He was not here. I tell you, Seiiorita, it is altogether a mistake." This was said with a vehemence meant to cover an agitation which the knight could not otherwise subdue. Olivia beheld this agitation through the effort to conceal it. His asseveration went for nothing, particularly as Leonora insisted that Don Philip had declared the fact to her husband, only last night, and after the former had made his speech. "It is impossible !" said Don Balthazar, in a wanner meant to silence all further discussion; but the malignant element in the bosom of the slave, Juana, was not prepared to suffer him to less. pear. page: 340-341[View Page 340-341] 840 'VASCONSELOS. THE SCENE CLOSED. 841 escape thus easily. She could not suppress the grin of - from her features, as she hastily replied "Oh! yes, Sefior; Don Philip was certainly here; at at the summer-house. I saw him wiien he was leaving wa~ there he must have seen the Seflorita. You came tire summer-house just after Don Philip had gone." "I!" exclaimed the Don with troubled aspect-" I!" "You, Selior !" cried Olivia, rising and striding~ acro interval that separated her from her uncle-while h~r eyes ing beyond their orbs, were fixed upon him with an expi of mixed agony and horror. "You !---you !-were you in the summer-house last ever you,-when I was there !" He was silent . . . . Juana supplied the answer. "Yes, my lady-the Sefior went to the summer-house he had dined. But it was dusk before I saw Don Philip. not see Don Philip when he came, but only when he was ci down the steps of the summer-house, and was going away I was quite frightened to see his face. He looked like that was going crazy; and 0! how he did groan! I heard I was suite afraid to go near him." "What did he here at that hour !" cried Don Balthazai ously-" How dare he intrude upon my privacy! - dared you He~ was arrested in his speech by the action of OlivTh suddenly pressed closer to him, so as almost to touch hir hands clasped together, and with such a look-so like ma in her face-that, involuntarily, the uncle recoiled from he: the words died away upon his lips. "Oh! you have done your worst now !" she exclaimed see it all! I know it all! Fiend and monster as you are,- feel it, too, do you not! You see it! You will burn for Your rages shall be endless! There shall be no drop of for your tongue! There must be a hell, if it be for yoi only! There must be) devils, if it be only for your tor aalice I was t. It it of s the dilat- ~ssion ing-. after I did ming and man him! fun- How who t, her [ness, and "I -you this! rater r use ,ure! Oh! do not start, and recoil! I will not harm you! Daggers would be no punishment for such crimes as yours. Hell! hell only! Hell! hell! hell !" She clasped her head with both her hands, and reeled about dizzily. Leonora caught her in her arms in time to save her from falling upon the floor. She was in a swoon! It came sea- sonably to save her from madness. We close the scene. Let us suppose that Leonora clung lovingly, and nursed heedfully her suffering friend; and.that Don Balthazar fled from the pres- ence which, with all his brutal heartle~sness of character, he dared not face. page: 342-343[View Page 342-343] * CHAPTER XXVIII. "I swear To dedicate my cunning and my strength, My silence, and whatever else is mine, 'to thy commands." DON BALTHAZA1~ lied into the recesses ot the thick buried himself amid dark and savage thoughts. "He knows all, indeed !" he exclaimed, when he fel self' alone. "Where was that scoundrel, Mateo, that I not slay him before this! But for those bungling algi they have marred his purpose. I forgot to warn then hence all the mischief. But, if it were necessary that I have him put out of the way before, it is trebly nec now! ~LJe knows too much! He could blast meat an ment, by his speech! He must die! She must die! now the only means of safety! Oh! would it had been the very hour that I resolved upon it! I should have d with my ow~ hand, if I had only dreamed of this danger. mad, blind, oblivious,-a very dolt,-not to see that his ence was perilous to my safety !-Hers too! But I. mi heedful in this matter. It will not do here. It will not I am gone. Then, I shall contrive it. I will send her off country. She shall depart as soon as she is fit to travel. shall see to the rest. It shall be done. For him! ah shall I manage that'? Shall it be here? Shall it be in Fl here, best, if Mateo can contrive it; but in Florida it 'i quite as easy. He has no followers ;-few friends! Il foi~ind, with a knife in his bosom, it is by the hand oft] man that he dies! Who will doubt'? None! and he mu That is settled. It is his life or mine! Would I could s scoundrel Mateo !" The devil is -said to answer promptly whenever he is ~The person invoked-stood the~next moment before the Th "Ha! Ha! You want Mateo, do you '?-the sco Mateo !-well, you, see him, I hope. He is here, and much a scoundrel as some that wear much better reputati The reckless outlaw laughed irreverently at his own sa He felt his securities. Perhaps, he would have even reli hand-to-hand struggle with the knight; but he seemed to tam no hostile purpose, and stood quietly confronting him ing good-humored enough, considering the genuine feelh (342) THE DEVIL ALWAYS AT HAND. -and him- e did azils! and hould ssary mc- It is done ne it I was exist- st be o till to the ylvia how rida? ill be he is e red t die! e that alled. n. udrel ot so n." casm. hed a enter- look- gs of hatred which he felt for his superior. Don Baithazar was not a timid man,~was not easily startled by any event or presence,-and certainly had no fears of any individual foe; but the appearance of the outlaw, so apropos to his summons, brought up to his mind a vague image of the satanic presence, which, in fact, was the, true meaning of his requisition. It is the hellish agent which we summon always when we design a hellish deed. Don Balthazar,, however,, welcomed the fugitive after his own fashion, withe air of a master who knew his rights, and had reason to complain. "You are here at; last! But you have done nothing. You promised finely! Where are your performances'? Had, you done: according to your pledges, I had been saved from a very unpleasant affair !" "Had I done !-and who is to blame, I beg to know, that I have not done'? You make a bargain with me, and when I set about to do my work, I find your alguazils upon my heels. Your alguazils, bearing your orders to seize and bind me, and have me properly dressed for the honors of the garote vii! Ah! indeed! The garote vii for your own ally-the man, who is to risk his life doing your business! What do you say to that'?" "What do I say! Why, that the thing was wholly a mistakes The rascals did not understand me." "A mistake! Oh, it, would have been precious consolation to me, with my neck fitted with an iron cravat, to' hear that it was done wholly by mistake! I had as lief die by the law, as by mistake, any day !" "I tell you that the alguazils were ordered after you, before I had spoken with you; I only forgot to see and speak to them, and they continued the search in consequence. But I will put a stop to their pursuit." "Oh! you forgot only! But that was strange on your part. You're too much a man of business to forget such things in com- mon. But you'll remember now, you say; and I'm to be pur- sued no more 'P "Yes: I shall see to it this yery day; but you are to do the business you undertook'?" "Ah! that business !" "Yes; you will dispose of this knight of Portugal, shortly, as you do your prayers ;-send him to God by a quick convey- ance'? You are not afraid'? You will not shrink from your engagements'?" "Afraid! 0, n6! I'm not afraid- of your alguazils! As for keeping my engagements, that will depend upon the way you page: 344-345[View Page 344-345] ~s44 YASCONSELOS. keep yours. I don't see that, so far, you've been very k en to remember them." "You make too much of thiS forgetfulness of mine.~~ "Oh! you may forget again! I never trust a bad me ory; not even my own. See this handkerchief; there are three knots in it. Every one marks a life. This is one I put in it '~ hen I engaged with you to send Don Philip by a short cut to para. dise. You must knot your handkerchief too, before I tal e this knot out of mine." Don Balthazar received the suggestion rather literally He coolly took out his handkerchief; and proceeded to knot I ; but the Qutlaw laughed. "Look you, Don Balthazar, the man who can't write, akes his knot in the handkerchief; but that's not the rule fo you. You must make your knot on paper, with pen and ink; and there must be a great seal to it. Get me the pardon, und r the hands of the Adelantado, for all past offences; that's on knot you're to make. Prepare me the paper that proves mi and Juana's freedom, and when. you give me these, I shall ta e out my knot here, and Don Philip will fly off to join the an els in paradise; that will save you from finding him in you way hereafter." And the fellow chuckled greatly at his own wit. Do Bal- thazar was not so well pleased at these requisitions. "But, when I have got you these papers, what security ave I that you will do what you promise for me "Security! Well, it seems to me that your security w~ill b~ quite as good as mine. What security do you give me, ~hen I have slain Don Philip, that you will do for me what you~ hav~ promised ?" "Slave! Do you count the word of a nobleman linda soldier, as of no more value than that of a mestizo a~d an outlaw ?" "Pooh, pooh, Sefior; that sort of talk won't do between us! It's you that are the outlaw, not me! I am to kill Don Philip on your account, not on mine; because you hate him, anki not from any hate that I bear the Portuguese. Were Ito kill h5m on my own account, I should be outlawed: killing him for yo~u, it's your act, not mine, and you're the outlaw! Don't speak 1~o. me as if there was any difference between us. There's none; I tell you, but what's in my favor! I think myself a much Vetter man than you any way. I don't get other people to light my battles, or avenge my wrongs-there's where I'm the etter man; and as for strength and skill with the weapon, why, I ~could WHICH IS TUE OUTLAW? 345 slit your throat in the twinkling of an eye, and before you'could mutter an Thus saying, he flourished his naked machete in fearful prox- imity to the knight's face. The cheeks of the Don flushed crim- son, and he hastily drew his sword half-way from the sheath. "Oh! put up," said the outlaw; "it's no use-and besides, it's not necessary. I'm not going to kill you; ,and if I were, you could do nothing to help yourself. I wouldn't give you the smallest chance. 4'd be into you, and through you, before you could get your toledo out of the scabbard. I'm none of ybur fine knights of Cast\ile and Portugal, to let you put yourself just in your own attitude to fight; all that seems to me only foolishness.. Here'~ my enemy, and I'm to kill him. If I don't kill him, he kills me. Now, I don't want to be killed, just yet; and I rather he should die than me! What then? Will I give him a chance? Not a bit of it! I'll slit hi~ throat without saying, 'By your leave, senior.' And if it was my profit to slit yours, I'd have done it. without all this palaver. Don't be afraid. We're on terms. I've a contract with you; and I'm willing to work for you, on conditions. But' you must get down from the great horse when you speak to me. I can't bear to be ridden over by any Don that ever came fr~m Spain! and I won't! There now; you know me. Is it a thing clear between us '~ Will you get me the pardon, the free papers, with the big seal? Shall I kill the knight of Portugal for you ?" - "You're a bold fellow, Matco ;-.it's a bargain I" "Very good. When shall I have the papers? I must have them, to see, and to show; for I can't read, senior, and must get some one to read them for me, to see that all's right, before I do my share in the business.~~ "You are hard in. your conditions, Mateo; but you shall have your own way. Meet me here, at this hour, two days hence, and you shall have the pardon and the papers !" "Good, senior; I'll be punctual to the sun." When the two separated, the knight proceeded, almost imme- diately, to take horse, and ride into the city; the outlaw disap- peared within. the thickets. Don Balthazar did not return to the hacienda that night. In his place, Olivia had another visitor. While Sylvia slept, Juana conducted her brother to the chamber of her mistress. The latter appeared. to expect him; she was certainly not unprepared for his coming. It was surprising to behold her countenance, as the bold out- law entered the chamber. Where had she acquired that won- derful composure-that strength of calm-so suddenly ?-.-after 15* page: 346-347[View Page 346-347] 346 VASCONSELO$. A NEW MYSTERY. 347 the overthr w of her hope and pride, so terrible and so recent? -after that wild compulsion which seemed to have racked equally the body and the soui~, how had she so soon and thoroughly recovered? In the utter wreck of her pride, her sensibilities seemed suddenly to have become blunted. She had the look of one who felt nothing. There was not in her countenance the slightest show of suffering. Her eyes were strong in their glare,-not sad. The muscles of her mouth betrayed not the slightest emotion. She looked like one of those wretched persons whom we sometimes encounter in society, who grow prematurely wise-~-who never know youth or child. hood-who spring, at a single bound, into manhood, and the full possession of their minds; and who do so, in almost all cases at the expense of their hearts-nay, to th~ utter death and burial of their hearts! Such premature development always makes monsters. The look of Olivia was that of one whose heart was utterly dead within her, and who has survived and forgotten-if; indeed, she ever knew-its loss. It was-to sum up in a word already used-all stony! The calm wa~ that of death-the composure, that of insensibility-not apathy! Yet there was life in her. There was a new-born energy working within her soul. That had survived the heart-had acquired its strength-only in the utter annihilation of the hope, if not the affections. These still lived, however ;-.--but in what manner? We shall, perhaps, see-as we advance' but they were not now to declare themselves in the ordinary way, as is the case with those who do not live to denial-who still indulge, if not in hope; in dreams-in delirium! Olivia had her purposes still; and, through these, her lingering and blighted aiThetions were still destined to exist, and work ;-but she had no more feminine emotions. The blissful though deceiving reveries of her woman heart were all at an end! There were now no delicious fancies, tripping, like nimble servitors, in obedience to thought or will; bringing gay colors, and creatures of the element, to beguile her saddened moods. Fancy had been stripped of all -its wings---ruthlessly stripped-and life now crept on like the worm deposited beneath the precious flowers, to which it can no longer, fly. But the worm still had life; and a will, which continued to incline in the direction of its former fancies. Olivia de Alvaro, we .repeat, has still a ~urpbse,-whether of hate or love we have yet to learn! Enough, that it is the purpose of a broken heart,-well knowing how complete has been its ruin,-how utterly hopeless is its condition,-how dread its humiliation,-how unrelieved by solace, whether of mind, or heart, or soul. She is without aspirations; yct ~he has a purpose! And that purpose? We shall see as we proceed. Whatever it is, she pursued it with such energies as she has never before displayed in the prosecution of any object. They are such as might become the strongest-willed person of the other sex. She bends her whole soul upon the task. She ex- cludes all fears, all doubts, from consideration-everything which may impair her efforts. Perhaps, we should rather say that, feeling as she does, her souLis no longer accessible to fears. She has endured the last sorrow, and the worst; and death has no terrors, in a sea son, when life is not only without hope, but without inspiration of any kind. She wrought, nevertheless, as one dedicated to duty; as one, too, to whom the strength came, physical and spiritual, only with the duty! An hour had made her a new person; and, with the due consciousness of a fresh impulse, she has no time for sorrows. Sorrows! IJiow should tears, or wailing ,even, or prolonged watching, give testimony to such a woe as hers! To have been capable of either would have implied very inferior sensibilities, or a smaller degree of heart and suffering! A night of stunning ~nd strange sensations, that seemed rather to afflict the body than the mind, and she stood up, a new being! With the dawn she found herself employed,-active, watchfi4, vigilant,-speaking few words, but firmly,-allowing no ques- tions,-wiiing, and causing to be done, according to her will Juana, now honestly prepared to serve, was put in requisition, and kept busy. At night she was required, as we see, to bring her brother, the outlaw, to the chamber of her mistress. When there, the latter had few words, but they exhibited her in a wholly new attitude, to both brother and sister. Juana she dis- missed to irnother chamber. From Mateo, now alone with her, she demanded an account of his interview with Don Balthazar. He revealed its purport-all! Olivia listened without seeming emotion. When he was done, she said: "I have presumed on your fidelity, Mateo. You dare not lie, to me! You will not! I a'm willing to believe you. You are too much of a man to deceive me." "By the Blessed Virgin !"-he began. "Jt does not need, Mateo, that you swear. I will believe you. You shall work for me, and shed no blood! There is your par- don, which I have procured for you through the Lady Isabella; and there is the paper, which makes you and Juana free people- no longer slaves of mine. Take them, and then listen to What I - would have you do." page: 348-349[View Page 348-349] .848 YASCONSELOS. The outlaw fell at her feet,-seized her hand, and covered it with kisses. She withdrew it, indifferently, without emotion. "Enough," she said: "Enough! How bug, Mateo, will it take you to procure me a supply of the roots for making the tawny brQwn dye of the mountains '?" "1 can get you any quantity, Sefiora, in a short twelve hours.~' "Be it so. You must set out for it as soon as I dismiss you." Juana here peered within th& chamber, but the lady motioned her away, and then, in a whisper, gave Mateo some other inst rue. tions. Her manner was calm, resolute, emotionless wholly; her words clear, though whispered; her purpose made fully evident to his understanding, though at present it is withheld from ours. He argued with her purpose, but in vain. He finally submitted ;-Juana was called in, and her brother hur.. riedly disappeared. He returned by noon of the next day, and brought her the roots of a native dye, such as she required. He had other trusts to execute, which kept him actively employed. Meanwhile, Juana kept diligent watch. The espionage of Sylvia waLs baffled; and, more than once during the day and night, Mateo penetrated the dwelling in safety,-sometimes with a package beneath his arm; sometimes with only certain tidings on his lips. He wrought submissively, beneath a will which it was neither his policy nor his desire to disobey. Meanwhile, his eyes Illled, rough and savage as he was, as he gazed upon Olivia, and remembered that it was by his agency that her~pride had received its fatal blow-to say nothing of her hope-in the terrible momemit when Philip de Vasconselos had entered the summer-house. But he dared not make this confession. "Yet, how could I help it?" quoth the outlaw, to himself; by way of apology. "He had saved me, had served me, and was a noble gentleman. Then, I knew her only as the kin of that scoundrel, Don Balthazar! Yet~ I wish it had not been so The regret was unavailing, but it strengthened the desire in the heart of the outlaw to serve her faithfully in all things; and it softened him to sw~vey her, so wholly .changed,-a woman no j~nger,-stern, inaccessible, hopeiess,-having but one idea; and that-he shrugged his shoulders as he thought of it.. But he was forbid to argue it again. "I have heard of such things before; but, after all, it's only a sort of madness! She will break down in it, or break out,-and that's pretty much the same thing,-and then it's. all over with her! Oh! it is so pitiful! and she so young, so beautiful, and of such a great family! Demonios! how I should like to cure oil the trouble, if it could be done, by making . three cuts with ~rny machete on the black heart of that mQnster, Don Balthazar! A NEW MYSTERY. 349. I Would make a cross for him should cross him out forever! Well, let her break down, and 1 shall do it yet! He can't buy me now, at any price. But I shall sell him at just what price I please! Who'll buy on these term~ns? Who? Why the devil, to be sure! Who else ~" page: 350-351[View Page 350-351] CHAPTER XX IX. Soifri, die poco Ti rimane a soifrir. Non ti spaventi L'aspetto della pena: ii mat peggiore E de' mali ii timor~" IT required, in fact, no effort on the part of Don Balthazar to procure the pardon of Mateo, the outlaw, from the hands of the Adelantado. He had only to place the paper before him, with a crowd of other papers, f~r signature, and the sign-manual was set down without scruple or examination. This was the usual process. It was thus that, at the entreaty of Olivia, the Lady IsabeJla had already procured the pardon ~f the mestizo; and thus it was that the affair had escaped the knowledge of the knight. In neither instance had De Soto been made aware of what he had done, and Don Balthazar was thus naturally kept ignorant of the peculiar interest which his niece had manifested in the outlaw, and of her intimacy with him. He was utterly without suspicion in this quarter; the consequence of his impres- sion of her ignorance of affairs, and of her utter indifference and apathy upon most subjects. The pardon procured, the Don pre- pared the legal discharge~ of Mateo, and his, sister, from the ser- vice of his ward. He signed the latter papers as her guardki~n, and, as usual, without consulting her. The deed of emancipa- tion which she had prepared was, in fact, void, in consequence of her minority; and this was quite as well known to Mateo as to herself. But it was understood between them that he was to keep aloof until she should reach 'maturity, when he could boldly defy the uncle. The parties did not. deceive themselves, or one another; and though the discharge of Olivia was, for the pres- ent, of less value than that of Don Balthazar, still .Mateo much preferred to receive the boon at her hands, though of questiona- ble validity, than to incur any obligation at the hands of a person whom he meditated to murder at the first decent opportunity. Armed with the desired papers, Mateo did not think proper to keep his engagement with the Don. He was to have xIIet him in the thicket, where we have already beheld their interview, but the knight waited for him in vain; and' after lingering for an hour, becoming impatient, he took his way towards the summer-house, and thence proceeded to the dwelling. He little dreamed. that the~person he hoped to see was closely (860) SECRET PLIRPOSES. 851 following nd observing all his movements. So was Juana. Mateo ha counselled the latter carefully on certain points, and the atch maintained by one or the other of them left no single proceeding of Don Baithazar, when at home, unno- ticed! hile at the summer-house, the Don had divested him- self of the papers with which he had proposed to meet the out- law. As i was in this neighborhood that ~he still calculated to encounter im, he thought to have them always ready by leaving them ther . He fastened them up securely in a huge chest which he k pt in a closet. But Mateo, who watched all his steps, soon wor ed his way into the closet and the chest. He was armed wit a bit of iron wire, his machete, and a small drill and mallet; an it was surprising with what rapidity he persuaded locks to gi e up their secrets. Such is the advantage of being in high practi e, wherever the arts are concerned. The worthy outlaw, however, d d not immediately possess himself of the documents of the Do . For the present, he was content to know where they were idden. He preferred that their loss should not be discovered until the last moment, when the Don should be ready for departure to Florida, and he to his native moun- tains. He had much yet to do in Havana, and did not care to be disturbed again by the alguazils, while pursuing his pleasant occupation He continued in the employment of Olivia; and~ her present purposes, steadily pursued, with a mind now pro- foundly coi centrated on the one object, found him enough to do. But there as a slight interruption to their intercourse. In car- rying out h s purposes, Don Balthazar, as we have seen, had re- solved to end his niece to the plantation,-the hacienda, or country-sea of his ward at Matelos,..-.-.where her large estates chiefly lay. This was in order to his own security. Her~, he might best ractise against her peace-perhaps her life. J~iere, she would e removed from frequent association with the I~ady Isabella, w o had taken a greater interest in her happiness than Don Baltha ar cared to see, or to encourage. She was to pro- ceed thither under the conduct of De Sinolar, whose hacienda was contiguous, and whom Don Balthazar was not unwilling that Olivia shon d marry. De Sinolar was his creature,-silly crea- ture, as we ave seen,.~-vain and weak,-who feared the Don, ~and whom he latter regarded as a useful mask to shelter his own proceed ings. If she would wed with De Sinolar, she might live; and t e latter was to be allowed every opportunity of winning his ~way to her favor. Don Balthazar, however, had~ now but little h~pe of this, unless through her utter despair of the knight of P~rtugal, and the desperation of soul which his own page: 352-353[View Page 352-353] 852 VASCONSELOS. cruel conduct had occasioned. The expedition once departed, carrying with it Don Philip, and. the uncle was satisfied to trust somewhat to time.. Time might effect his object, and if not-. the dagger! This latter remedy was to be~entrusted t6 Mateo; unless, indeed, Sylvia should prove herself as expert with the bowl as her predecessor, Anita, had been. According to these plans, Olivia was suddenly apprised that she was to travel that very day under~the escort of De Sinolar. She was silently submissive. She was not allowed words of parting with her friends, the Lady Isabella, or the fair, frail wife of Nuno de Tobar. To this also she was reconciled. She had no desire to see either. She had survived friendship. Mere society had no attractions for her, and nothing compensative. She lived but for a single purpose, and this was of a nature to be rather helped than defeated by her removal from the city ;-. that is to say, by her seeming or temporary removal. She was prepared to go,-but her secret resolution was taken to return; and that, too, before the sailing of the expedition. We shall see, hereafter~ in what manner. Don Balthazar was rather surprised at her submission. He -had expected a struggle. But she heard his requisition with a cold indifference, and answered it with a single word of resignation. "I am ready now He was surprised, and~ said something about her friends. "Would you not desire to see and part with the Lady Isa- liella,-with Leonora de Tobar?" "No! What are friends and friendship to me "It might be done in an hour. It were proper, perhaps." "I do not care to see them." "Well, as you please! You can see them as frequently as you think proper after I am gone. Indeed, as Leonora will re- main in Cuba, you might have her as your guest." Olivia was silent. The uncle proceeded: "De Sinolar has gallantly undertaken to be your escort, and you can command his services during my absence, in any mat- ter in which you may need assistance. He has kindly volun- teered his good offices. I have given him instruction." "When does the expedition sail ?" she coldly inquired. "Within two days. We are all ready, and the wind promises to be fair." She asked no more. "When we separate, Olivia, it may be forever! I go upon an expedition of great peril. I may never return. Do you for- give me, child?" A terrib "Forgiv of my mui cence; of 1 ever; of a it not of doom!" "-We ar life is henc4 me as a vh Will you ii "Play ti in your soi your false forget! 5 And litti De Sinolar and stood privately ~ "You wi hacienda. if you wou at every ha show' herself De Sinol "I flatten "Pooh, j ma who r is y ur faul e carp but he cont ing hat he her and 54 haci nda. sinc the w~ ethe 'eal to list n, and forget that a fi e horse but being I that Sylvh dreamed tli back only t spect to hi ADYTCE TO A WOOER. 853 [e scorn rose into her stony gaze. e !" she exclaimed-'.' Forgive !-ask it of the ghost dered happiness ;-.-at the grave of my wronged inno- he hope which you have banished from my heart for.. .1 that I was, and might have been, and am not! Ask ne, as I am, Don Baithazar, lest I curse you with a now to part! Perhaps never again to meet. My ~forth to be one of constant peril. You may hear of tim to the darfs and fiery tortures of the Apalachian! ot forgive me, Olivia?" te hypocrite with meno longer. Do I not know that, 11, you scorn the very prayer for forgiveness which lips utter? Hence! Better that we should both long as I can remember, it is not possible to forgive I" e more was spoken between them, ere they separated. soon made his appearance. The vehicle was packed, n readiness at the door.. Don Balthazar conferred ith De Sinolar. 11 have her pretty much under your own eye at the You will have her to yourself. Play the bold lover, [d succeed with such a woman. Make her your own ~ard. These Knights of Portugal once gone, she will f less coy." ~r curled his moustache, and- grinned gratefully. myself, sei~ior-" ooh! Don't flatter yourself, man! Flatter her! The perpetually flatters himself offends everybody. This L It is in the ~vay of your own successes." ~t knight was a little discomfited by this abrupt speech, rived to conclude his sentence, and succeeded in say.. flattered himself he should finally succeed in flatte4ng they parted. It was but haifa day's journey to the We find nothing to interest us along the route, t and humor of De Sinolar are of a sort which is too keep, or too heavy to be borne, and Olivia could only lid not reply to his gallantries. But we must not Juana accompanied her mistress, and that. Mateo, on hovered along the track, keeping the party in sight, himself unseen. It was some consolation to Oli~ria, was no longer her guardian. The poor girl never at she was destined to follow her; having been kept receive the final instructions of her master in re- victim~ page: 354-355[View Page 354-355] 854 The hacienda o, Matelos was reached in safety about dusk. Oliviapleading fa igue, dismissed Don Augustin to his Own abock, which lay ontiguous, on an adjoining plantation. She retired to her cha ber for awhile, but it was not long before Mateo made his a ~earance. Certain signals, previously agreed upon, announced h s arrival to Juana, and he was stealthily con- ducted by that da sel to the chamber of her mistress. Olivia was sitting with ha ds clasped, and eyes fixed upon a picture of the Virgin which h ng upon the wall opposite, when the outlaw* entered the room. She at once rose. "You are true, Mateo, and I thank you. You musL now get the. horses ready." "Ah! my lady,'~ said the outlaw, "I have been thinking you can never stand this trial. It is a hard life you propose to under- take. You will never have the strength for it. You do not know the toil, the danger. You will surely sink under it; you will perish, and there will be no one to help you." "I shall need no help, Mateo; and if I .perish, it is only an end of a long and terrible struggle." "But why engage in this struggle, Sefiorita? Of what avail ?" "The easiest form of death is in the struggle, Mateo. Do not argue with me now; I am resolved." "But, I must argue, dearest mistress-I, who know what are the toils of such a life, day by ~Iay, on the back of a horse." "You forget, Mateo, that my father taught me how to ride; that I have been a horse-rider from my childhood, over the rug. gedest mountain passes. I fear no steed that was e~er bridled. My poor father, you remember him, Mateo'?" "Ah! my lady, do I not? Had he lived, I should never have been a bad fellow; never been an outlaw,-never shed human blood." "Weff~ as he had no son, lie made a boy of me, and taught me the exercises of boyhood. He showed me the uses of the match- lock and the cross-bow, until I ceased to fear the shock and the re- port of fire-arms, and could bring down the mountain eagle with my arrows. I have grown into the \voman, but I have never lost the spirit, nor the practice, which he taught me. Toil, trial, dan- ger, have no fears for me. I am bolder and braver now than ever. Do you have no apprehensions, my good Mateo; for there is that in my soul now which makes me laugh at danger." The outlaw continued to expostulate, when she abruptly and sternly silenced him. "Have you not sworn to serve me, Mateo, without question- ing ?" she demanded, with an air of calm authority. "And ha require, if y show you w take." "No mor in Vain. I for the one my life. B peril life, anc strife, and b~ can now bett calm, that I \XThich the sto lie would "No mom mand you, 0 some servant faithful," "Ah! be and I am fail love for you "Enough, other womai your counsel perhaps, Ma If y01f' knew to a ceaseless and d~ath it~ dure ~n life! further help Th~ big tc into her sad, ual gram fi should such~ beautiful, su inform so de "I'd soon "but I'm re~ "Do it, tli procure the lie obeye and she was silent prayer then rose wi RESOLUTION OF DESPAIR. 855. I not done so, dearest lady? I will still do as you )Q command me; but I would entreat you-would at it is that you propose to encounter and to under- I You mean well ;~ but you know not. You speak in resolved! My life is on it, Mateo! I live now bject only, and this executed, I shall gladly lay down t while I do live, I must thus work, thus toil, thus know life only in this peril. If there be storm and ttle-ay, blood-.-it is even so much the better. I r endure the tempest than the calm. It is in this can encounter a thousand terrors worse than any ~m may bring." have still entreated, but she spoke decidedly. I tell you, I am resolute as death. Do as I corn- tell me that you will do nothing. I will then seek who thinks himself less wise, and proves more ot angry with me, dear .Se~orita. I am not wise, hful. None can be more so. It is because of my Mateo; I do not doubt your fidelity; and to any ,-~--to a woman in any less wretched case than mine, would be sensible and proper. But-you know, eo-but mine is not the common fate of woman! my misfortune, you must know that I am doomed agony while I live; and that toil, and physical pain, l~ have no tortures such as I must inevitably en- I have resolved! Let me hear if I may hope for rom you ~" r gathered in the eye of the .Mieslizo, as he looked wan face. ~S~he was tearless; and the intense spirit- oni her eyes almost filled him with terror. How glare,- such an expression-gleam forth from such h childlike eyes! Row should such a resolution icate a creature! r fight for you, a thousand times," he exclaimed: ~ y to do what you ask, and what I promised." n! We have little time to lose. Leave me, and orses. 4 sadly, and in silence. The horses were soon ready, ~pprised of it. She did not delay. One moment in she sank down before the image of the Madonna, a stel~ of firmness and walked forth into the grove s page: 356-357[View Page 356-357] 856 VASCONSEIJOS. VISION OF OLIVIA. 857 where the saddled steed was in waiting. It was an hour short of midnight. The stars were few in heaven. The gusts swept, with a sad soughing, through the woods, and seemed filled with mourn. ful and warning voices. The ear of the outlaw was sensible to the sounds, and his more superstitious nature held them to be ominous. But Olivia seemed not to hear or heed them. She wrung the hand of Juana in silence, leapt into the saddle, and, fol. lowed by Mateo on horseback also, she turned once more in the direction of Havana. Juana remained behind to plead the indis- position of her mistress, and baffle, for awhile, the curiosity of iDe Sinolar. The wayfarers rode hard and fast. In a low and seemingly un- occupied hovel in the suburbs of the city, we find Olivia safely housed before daylight. The place had been selected and pro. cured for her by Mateo, agreeably to previous instructions. There was a rude couch, upon which she rested for awhile. But not long. She was soon up and busy. Mateo was summoned, and was promptly in attendance. "Are all the things here, Mateo ?" "You will find them in that box my lady." "Have you prepared-" "Every thing, Sefiorita. I have done all; I am ready for all things: but 0! my lady, it is not yet too late." "What do you fear, Mateo ?" "Every thing for you, Sei'iorita-nothing for myself. Nay, if you will believe me, I would sooner cut for you the throats of a dozen such villains as Don Balthazar, than see you go on this fearful business." "Nay, Mateo, I wish no throats cut for me! Still less that "Oh L if you would only listen to me, Senorita." She answered with a strange smile, and so calmly, that he was disturbed by the very repose of tier voice and manner, as it ar- gued a resolution so utterly immovable. "Well,-what would you say, Mateo?" The poor fellow could only repeat what he had so idly urged already. "Say, my lady, say ?-Why, I would say that you know not what it is you are about to undertake and undergo! That you are not fit--not strong enough !-" / "Is it fatigue, pain, peril, loss of life, the agony of wounds? I am prepared for all these! Must I repeat to you that I should gladly welcome either, or all, of these, if I could lose those hor- rors which oppress me now! Horrors! but if you know not-" "But if y u are discovered?" "AhI that is the terror! that 4"-after a pause: "But I must brave it! 1 ell you, Mateo, I cannot remain here! 1 cannot sur- vive thus! must extort from new griefs, troubles, privations and dangers, Such7-excitement as shall obliterate the past! I know not wh t you know, of my cause of agony; but I suspect, Mateo, that ou know enough to understand that I can fly to nothing wors , in the shape of woe, than I have already had to meet! If yo know this, be silent! If you are prepared to serve me fait fully, be submissive! Let me have no further en- treaty." "The Virgi be with youmy dear lady, and bring you help and succor! I go to do all as you have commanded." With thes words he left her. She closed and fastened the door behind im; and, for a while, stood where she had been speaking; wh lly absorbed in thought; looking like a statue ra- ther than a b eating woman! Then she spoke, half in prayer, half in solilo uy: "Ay! the blessed Virgin! Succor! Succor! I surely need her help! Woul she have come sooner! Oh! how wild the path- way seems be ore me! What clouds, how torh! How flitting with the wind: and what a crowd of changing and frightful as- pects! They drift along, with the force of the tempest, which they vainly o r to resist! Now, they cry to one another for help and succor! ut they disappear, even as they cry, swallowed up in the fearful oid, and making way for, other forms and aspects! There is no s n, no moon, no stars; but there is a light as from the eyes of d ath; sepulchral, and filled with myriads of floating spectres! W at can it mean! Where am I! What do I see? Ah! these ar Hernan de Soto, and his troops and followers! That is Nun de Tobar: yonder rides-Oh! how my heart loathes him a he rides !-and yonder is-Oh! Blessed Virgin, it~ is. myself see! But the spectre lives and moves,-and serves! It is Don Philip that charges away in front-away! away! and- ee, how the boy follows him! Ah!.. . The highly wrought and febrile condition of Olivia's brain, must account or her apparent vhAon, in which she sees the known and the conjec ured; in which she mingles a past knowledge with her owu futur purposes. The madness lasted but for a brief space! She eemed suddenly to recover, and sank upon her knees before t~ie image of the Virgin. She now prayed inaudi- bly; then ros4, calm,-rigid rather in every muscle, and then pro- ceeded to unfo~d the contents of trunks and chests, as if with the view of makin~ her toilet. Let us leave her to this performance. page: 358-359[View Page 358-359] CHAPTER XXX. "I have surely seen him: His favor is familiar to me. Boy, thou hast looked thyself into my grace, And art mine own." CYMBEUNE. THE eighteenth day of May, in the year of grace, one thou. sand, five hundred and thirty-nine-more than three hundred years ago !-~-was marked with a white stone in the calendar of Don Ilernan de Soto; for, on that day, his squadron, eight large vessels (~small-sized schooners of our days), a caravel (a sloop) and two brigantines-things with scarce a deck at all-sailed from the noble harbor of Havana, with their proWs turned east in the direction of the opposite coast of Florida. But it was rather late in the day before they took their departure; and though the armament had been supposed in readiness several days be. fore, yet, when the time came, there were many things that re- quired to be hurried. Of these, the Adelantado had his share: and Don Balthazar more than his share; all needing to be at- tended to, and ~sped. But, of the cares of these great personages, we will say nothing in this place. They scarcely affect our nar. native. We shall confine ourselves to those of Don Philip de Vasconselos, chiefly; and relate how he was provided With a Moorish page, almost at the last moment, and on the most libe- ral terms. The sun was just warming the tops of the Cuban mountains, when the good knight was summoned to the entrance of his lodg- ings, to hearken to an unexpected visitor. This was noother than our old acquaintance, Mateo, the outlaw. Don Philip was on the alert, and was not found napping even at that early hour. He was busy brushing up his armor; condensing his wardrobe into the smallest possible compass; preparing his steed and fur- niture; for transfer to one of the caravels where a place had been appointed him; and adjusting his affairs, in general, for that re- moval which had now become inevitable. Don Philip met the outlaw with a grave, but gentle welcome; spoke and looked him kindly; and asked what he could do for him. The sight of the features of the Portuguese knight, seemed to occasion some difficulty in the speech of the outlaw. The sadnes~, approaching confirmed melancholy, which his face wore, (368) THE MESTIZO'S GIFT. 359 and which th~tones of his voice so well expressed, reminded Ma- teo of many matters, and in particular, of one very terrible scene, in which he ad beheld the brave cavalier wounded to the vej~y soul; crushe , as it were, into the earth, and partly by his proceedings. The whole scene came back to both parties as they met; a d, as the gloom darkened on the visage of Don Philip, the md of Mateo became agitated and confused, in a way wholly nwonted with the rough, wild, half-savage charac- ter of the -A! stizo. But he plucked up resolution to reply, and in tones as si nple and unconstrained as possible. "Well, Se or, it's not so much what you cat~ do for me, as what I can d for you !-You've been wanting a page or squire, Seflor," said he outlaw, "and you haven't got one yet ?" "It is true, Mateo. I did not like the looks of any that were brought me. Can you help me to one? Do you know ?-" "I can provide you with a Page, Setior; not a servant; a young lad, a kinsman, a nephew of my own; brown like myself, but the child pf a free woman of the mountains; who has heard of you, and 1ould like to see a little of the world, and of ar.. mies, under s ch a brave leader; but he can't be bought. He's. the son of a free woman, Sefior, as I tell you, and will serve you for love, not or money; and will bring his own horse, and pro- vide his own ~means; and will only expect to be treated kindly, and to be taught; the art of war; and-" "Will he s]~ibmit-will he obey me "Certainly,~ as a page, Seflor: and will be happy tQ do so. I can answer fo all that, Seflor. He will do for you, I am sure, as no bondma would ever do-will be faithful always-and be very glad wh n you employ him, for he is pleased with you, Seflor,-he h s seen you often, and admires you very much! He longs to g with you, and hasn't let me rest, for the last week, for urging me to come to you and make the offer. He don't want pay-he has means of his own, as I told you: his moth- er, a free wo an of the mountains, Sefior, has property; cattle and horses; nd though the boy is quite young, and slightly built, yet he h s health and strength, and can stand a good deal of trouble an fatigue; all he wants is to be with you ;-that is, to see war un er your lead ;-and as he's the son of a free wo- man, SeftorJ thought it right, perhaps, that he should have such desires, and should l~am from the best teacher." "Bring him to m~, Mateo." "He is here at ha~d-I could. not well keep him away, Seflor. He is 80 anxious !" Here the outlaw tt~rned away for a moment from the lodge of page: 360-361[View Page 360-361] 360 YASCONSELOS. THE BASHFUL PAGE. 361 the knight, and, stepping down to the highway, he gave a slight halloo. In sight, stood a boy holding a stout arid spirited steed. He approached at the signal, leading the horse. When he drew nigh, the knight, who had retired into the lodge for a moment, reappeared, and gazed steadily upon the new-corner. ," Let the boy fasten the horse to yon sapling, Mateo, and draw nigh, that I may have some talk with him. He has a fine horse, Mateo." "Yes, Sefior, I raised him myself. He walks like the wind, and will go like an eagle to the charge. Suppose- ydu step out, and look at him closely, SeIlor. You must love a fine animal, Senior, and this is one for a brave man to love, without feeling ashamed of his choice." How the heart, already vittdly sore, applies the most remote allusion to the cause of its secret suffering! This casual remark of Mateo, smote on the sensibilities of Philip de Vasconselos, like a sneer. But the face of Mateo was innocent of any occult meaning; and Philip showed that he felt, simply by an increased solemnity of voice and visage. He followed the outlaw out to where the horse stood, still held by the boy in waiting. The first regards of the knight were given entirely to the steed. "He is certainly a very fine animal, Mateo. You do not praise him more than he deserves.~~ "See what a chest he-carries, Seflor, broad like a castle. See what legs, so clcan, so wiry. There's not an ounce of fat to spare from., those quarters. There's not a long hair that you'd like to pull out from those fetlocks. And, look at his eye It's like that of a great captain! ~2ortez, I warrant, does not open a finer when he looks down from the towers of the Mexi- can. See what a mane of silk! It is like the hair of a Princess. And he's young, but a quarter over four, Sefior; and he comes of a breed that lasts till forty." "Unless no shaft from an Apalachian savage cuts him short;" was the remai'k of Vasconselos, sadly made, as'he turned to be- stow a look upon the boy. There seemed to be a new interest springing into the eyes of Philip as he gazed. The boy was of fine, dark bronze complex- ion, looking more like the native race of Indians, than the Afes- tizo cross, from which he was said to have sprung: he was well made, and symmetrical; with good limbs and much grace of out- line. But Vasconselos dwelt not so much upon the form, as the face, of the youth. This seemed to rivet his attention for awhile. And the effect of his gaze was to disquiet the boy him- self'; and Mateo, his uncle. The former closed his eyes, involun' tarily, under the st adfast glance of the knight; and th~ outlaw hurriedly said: "The boy is has ful, Sefior: he has never before stood in the presence of a grea captain, or a knight, or even a fine gentle- man. He is from the mountains, as I said, and don't know about the fine beh vior of a young man of the city, who is al- ways expected to 'qok up, you know, as if he was born to say to the sun-' s op a little-I must talk with yeu.' Now, Juan-" - "Juan ?-Is that is name 2" "Yes, Juan, Seio ; his mother's name is Juana, a free woman of the mountains, nor-" "His face remii ds me very much of one that I have seen somewhere. I have certainly seen him before, Mateo." "Never him, S flor,-never !" replied the other sturdily. "Juan has never b en to the city before last week; and you, I know, have never een into the mountains, Seflor. He is a mountain boy, you Excellency,-.-.-son of a free woman of the mountains. He ha seen you, but you could not have seen him before. But what's in a likeness, Sefior? You will see them every day, every w ere. I have seen thousands of likenesses, in my time, for whi h there was not the slightest bit of reason. Now, Juan looks like several people I knew, and you may have seen them. He lo k's very 'like Antonio Morelos, a creole of' Havana, here. Yo must have seen kim. Then, he looks mon- strous like hi~ moth r, and she has been a thousand times to the city. Oh! likeness s are nothing now, we see so many~ You never could have se n our Juan's face before, Seflor." Mateo talked rapi ly, rather than earnestly, as if against time and the wind. Vase nselos did not seem to hear half what he was saying. He St 11 kept an earnest~ eye upon the boy, as if deeply interested; e idently communing with every feature of his face-..-as far, th t is to say, as he was allowed to see them. lut the boy's eyes ere cast down.. lie saw nothing; yet felt, evidently, that the k en eyes of the knight were upon him. "The boy is you g, very young, Mateo, and I very much fear will hardly be able to stand the fatigues of such a campaign as that we shall have t endure in - Florida." "Oh! he is stro ~g, Seilor. His looks are deceptive. He comes of a h~rdy ra e. He can stand fire and water." "But he deems usually timid. Art thou sure that he has courage? Will he ook danger in the eye?" The boy seen~ed lisposed- to answer for himself. He looked up-he looked Doi Philip in the eye, and without ble.nching. 16 I I 361 page: 362-363[View Page 362-363] 862 VASCONSELOS. Nay, there was so much of a settled calm-an unflinching reso. lution in~his sudden glance, that the knight was~ struck with it. "Certainly," quoth he, "that was something like a lightening up of the spirit. He is capable of flashes, Mateo." * "Ay, and of fire and flame too Seflor! Faggots! Give him time, your Excellency, and you will see the blaze. But he's naturally bashful when you're looking on' him. It's not a bad sign in a bty, Sefior." "No, truly! But I like his looks, Mateo. There is some. thing in those features that please me much. Were I sure of the strength and courage of the boy,.-his capacity to endure,-. I should not hesitate: I should feel sure of his fidelity." "Oh! that I can promise, Seflor. He's as faithful to the man he loves as if he were a woman." "Pity but ;he were more so !" responded the knight quickly. The outlaw felt that he had blundered, and he promptly strove to recover his false step. "As a woman is expected to be, your Excellency; that's what I mean! I can answer for Juan; for his courage, his hardihood, not less than his honesty, Seflor. He's a boy of good princi- ples." "Let him answer for himself! Somehow, Mateo, I am a little doubtful of your answers. You are.too quick to be quite sure of what you say! hark ye, Juan, are you sure you desire to go with me, to Florida ?" The boy evidently trembled: but promptly enough, in a rather hoarse voice, answered- "Yes, Seflor! I wish to go with you." The voice was a strange one, yet, its tones seemed to interest the knight, as if there was something familiar in them also. "He has a very peculiar voice, Mateo." "Yes, Seflor, strange enough to those who heard him only a year ago. Now, his voice is getting the cross 'twixt man and boy. It's rather more a squeak than a ~ong, your Excellency. But I reckon, Seflor, we all underwent some such change about the same time in our lives." Don Philip.'; But, my good boy, you don't know the toil and trouble; the daily marching in that country; where there are no roads; only rank forests, great swamps, wild beasts, deadly reptiles; where, half the time, y o~u may be without food; and perhaps, quite as frequently withoi~t water. Juan. Yes, Seflor, but if one would be a soldier, it's a part of his education to taste these things. I am to be a soldier, you know. Philip. True; hardening necessa Juan. This ca: .A[ateo. You S( soldier. "True; but or of a campaign," C Juan. You foi tains. Philip. If yo~ might before in the danger. Juan. It is tha Philip. So yo you cannot know! savage arrows,-b scalping knife,-tl Juan. Yet yoi~ Philip. I am life is to me of lit Juan. And 1 Ii Philip. Thou or should be? !ifateo. Ah! y a saddish sort of I lonely rocks! H like other boys. Philip. But h grow to hopes. Ii der yet, in such a Juan. You al] nothing- Philip. Every sentials of all achie~ bitious? Mateo. That Ii Senior; l'~e told h ambition 4ofor h~ Pizarro, a~d as w mand of armies, a brave, 1 think, as what am I but an sense either, yet ~w Philip. ~'he bc TIlE KNIGHT AND BOY. 363 but you begin early.! There is a certain cy before one can be a soldier npaign will give it me, Seflor. e, your Excellency, his heart is set on being a e does not begin training for it, in the midst uoth Philip, not heeding the outlaw. get, Sefior, that I was bred among. the moun- ~ had been bred upon th~ plains, my boy, it our favor, going to Florida. But you forget of war, SeAor, and I am not afraid to die. ~ng, and not afraid to die? but you speak what Bethink you of the terrors of the strife; the is cannibal sacrifices,-his bloody rages,-the e fiery torture! are to encounter them, Seflor man, boy, accustomed to the encounter; and 31e worth. I have survived its hopes. ave none, SeAor. ~o hopes, at a season when the heart is all hope, rn don't know Juan, Sefior. He was al~vay~ oy; loving the glooms; the dark woods; the never played like other boys! He was never 1 ~ will outgrow this sadness, Mateo. He will would be cruel to peril one so young, so ten- warfare as that with the Floridian savage! ow nothing for the will, Sefior,-the heart-. thing, boy! will and heart are the great es. cement. Can it be that thou art already am- e is, your Excellency. It's his great folly, [m so a thousand times. For what can his m, a me8tizO? Let him be as jrave as Francis se as ilernan Cortez, who'4 give him coni~ ad authority in counsel? H~reamInow, as any man that ever stepped in leather ;yet )utlaw! I don't think I'm wa4tingin a sort of ho listens to me? y talks sensibly, IN~iateo, yet l~e is very young. page: 364-365[View Page 364-365] 864 VALSCONSELOS. fi SAD MASTER. 86~ .3fateo. If he lives much longer, Sefior, he'll grow much older. And .if he don't live long, he'll only be more sure of being young all the days of his life. Philip. Logical enough, Mateo; yet I have no wish to shorten his days. "Try. me, Seflor," murmured the boy, in very low but ear.. nest tones, not daring to look up. There was a pleasant change in the voice, which seemed to interest the hearer. lie put his hand on the head of the boy, who started from under the touch, and visibly trembled. But Philip was not permitted to see his face. "Do you not overrate both your courage and, your strength, my boy? You start and tremble at my touch." ~' 'Tis not with fear, Sei'ior 1" was the ~ubdued reply, still in the same low, sweet accents, "No! For why should you fear me, child ~ But you seem naturally timid-nervous, I should say ;-and such wars as that we go upon, require hardihood above all other things. There must be no~agitation when the trumpet rings the alarm. There must be no faltering when we are bade to charge. The j~age of' the knight will be expected to do good service, and to follow close after his master, even if he does not emulate him. Caust thou carry a lance, Juan ~" "I am provided with a cross-bow, Sefior, and can shoot. The lance will come-" "Thou art so eager for it, Juan " "Oh! take me with you, Seflor !" "I like thee, boy. Thou hast something about thee which ap- peals strangely to my imagination." And the good knight sighed deeply. His instincts, rather than his memory,. perhaps, guided his asseTerations. The boy hung his head also. He dared not, at that moment, look up in the face of Don Philip. "I will take thee with me, boy, and fight thy battles, if need be; will keep thee as much from harm as possible, and share with thee my spoils----" "I ask nothing, Sefior 1" said the ~boy hastily. "Oh! no, Seflor 1" quoth Mateo. \" My sister is a free woman of the mountains. Her son is able to pay his own way. He wishes to go to see service and learn a profession, and will share no one's spoil. He hopes to make his own. Besides, my sister is resolute that her son shall take no pay for his services. Re- member that, Seflor. She has provided him, as you see, with & good horse. She has given him a well-filled pouch besides I she has made all pr am colflmlssione4 So you see, Sefic "For love I" "Be it so, Jua thou wilt. Thoi~ companion, rathe companion, Juar besides, when I derness and yout we go with those love each other, be few Worthy ol boy, spite of my "I will love t reply, and this ti met. Then it w were the eyes of shone through t beneath the sear boy again tremb "Truth, Mate that infirmity. And he gave murmuring- ~r1ihine! Thin The knight tur ing his horse an and page were u good vessel tow )visions for his support and 1 to get even the needful w& r, he is to go with you for lot murmured the boy. a," said the knight, taking hi shalt go with me, boy. r than my page. But thou -a melancholy master. I behold thy slight frame, th Ii. We must be true to eac who are true or~ly to them F~uan; for in all that assembly any pure heart's love. W gloomy visage, and melanch ~e, Seflor-I do love thee !" ne the boy looked up. The 5 that the knight saw how Ia the boy, and what a soft an *e dilating orbs. But they s ~hing gaze of the knight. T ~d. , he is bashful! But a can ~Vell, Juan, you are mine no~ the' boy his hand, who kiss 1" ied away to the tent with Mt~ following. Before the close 4 on the waters of the gulf; ro ~'ds the gloomy shores of the equipment ; and I ~pons and armor. ~ e, not for money." hand. "Be it as ou shalt be my vilt find me a sad tremble for thee, timidity, thy ten- i other, Juan elves. We must ed host, there will It thou love me, Ay moods ?" ~as the murmured glances of the two r'ge and expressive. I dewy brightness ink in a moment ey sunk, and the paign soon cures d it passionately, teo, the boy lead- f the day, knight ling forward in a. Apalachian. 365 page: 366-367[View Page 366-367] CHAPTER XXXI. '~ .fsop. What do we act to-day? Latinus. Agavi'~ phrensy, with Peritheus' bloody end." MASSXuGEU. fihe Roman Actor. BUT we are not fet permitted to depart, and must follow, for a brief space, the fortunes of some other of our dramatispersonw. The novelist cannot do always, as he would, with his own cre. nations. He cannot linger, always with those whom~ he prefers. We must suffer the Fates to exercise their controlling agencies just as certainly as they do in real life, and among the living peo. pie whom we know~. He may create, but he cannot control. It is upon this very condition that he is permitted to create. The Being, once filled with the breath of life, and having made his appearance upon the stage of human action, must thenceforward conform to necessitks over which the author exercises no authority. These wUl have their origin in the character, the actions, and the impulses, of his pei~sons; in the events which flow from their performances; in their conflicts with rival actors, on the scene; in their strength or imbecility; with some allowance made for the operation of external causes, which, we are told, will always, more or less, affect~ the destinies equally of mice and men! Let us leave Philip do Vas~onse1os, and the dusky page, J~an, to their progress over the blue waters of the gulf, while we follow the steps of Mateo, the outlaw. As soon as the Mestizo had closed the arrarigemenfr, by which his "nephew, the son of a free woman of the mountains," had been secured a place in the service of the knight of Portugal, he disappeared from the, vicinity of~ the Spanish encampment. He had, we may mention, trised some precautions when "about town," by which he had k~pt his person from all -unnecessary exposure. He had still some decent regard for the existence of a class of' per'~ons, the Aiguazils, with whom he entertained few special sympathies; and, in leaving the lodgings of Vasconselos, he had stolen away into covert, by the most secluded passages. A sin- gle moment, in private, and i~nder the cover of a clump of trees, densely packed, with shrubbery, had sufficed for his parting with Juan. There he night be seen wholly to change the manner of speech and address which he had employed, with regard to the Q366) boy, when the his hand and kis~ the expression 01 denoted the exis fervent from thos ference which h~ eluded with a tugal, at the sho: "It may be," you, to the coun things; and be the spears! It: When they in through the woo "Yes!" quoth Don Baithazar would take lanc best among thei should have at 14 with the cross-Ix own? worthy to army? Ah! it Verily, I have a weapon, that w clear the track ~ my best strength do! Very hard And his 5~C4 waving, as if he broadsword. "But I. dare lie hath an eye in a disguise wh failing to do for have me garotlee I have half a mi him, the first da him, I would sla And he felt around him, wit ready snuffing t was still and qu dining to the hil the cool ~f earl~ THE OUTLAW'S PURPOSE~ knight, his master, was a lool ~ed it repeatedly, and there his face, and in the words ol bence of relations, between tli ~ which he has been pleased ti is been reported. On leaving omise to see him, and the g 'e, in the moment of his emb he said, "that I shall follow ~ry of the Apalachian; for I vhere the good knights rush ~ay be! We shall see d separated, and while Mate alone, his lips opened in fi he, were it not for that 4ev: le Alvaro, I should follow under this good knigl~t. I~v a. He hath no foil owers; ~ast five. I am as good as an~ w. And would I not ~iave a be straddled by any cavalier would be glorious! How strength in my arm, and a s uld show where blows are 4th a sweep! Andlama; L. It is hard tha~t I should ha 1" ~d was accelerated; and his were about to make a migi ~ot go, while that black wolf see through me. lie hath ch had baffled the eyes of m him this murder of the gooc without a scrftple! Would I: rid to slip off with the rest, an rk night he walks alone. V y him!" in his girdle for his machete, i glaring eye, and distend& ae atmosphere breathed by a et where he walked, among t Is, and now beyond the city .sr morning, and the whore r~ali 867 :er-on. He seized ~vas a reverence ir~ his mouth, which e parties, very dif ) assert in the con- g the boy, he con- )od knight of Por- ~rkation. you-nay, go with~ long to see great to the meeting of o pursued his way equent soliloquy. 1 of all the devils, Lhe expedition. II rould fight like the but, with me, he * five of these men good horse of my i' in Don Reman's I should smite! nil with horse and thickest. I could roung man, and in re nothing great to arm could b~ seen ity swoop with the is with the army! already known me own sister; and, knight, he would is throat were cut! I put my knife into rere I now to meet md looked up, and nostril, as if all- a enemy. But all be thick groves, in- burbs. It was still n of nature around 4 page: 368-369[View Page 368-369] 868 VASCONSELOS. him seemed to mu~mur of repose. The inanimate life of the forest declared nc~ unrest-no unruly passions,-no wretched discontent. The s~y was now beautifully clear, and.' if a voice was heard besides his own, it was that only of some very tiny bird, such as harbors only in the stunted shrubbery, where a sin- gle leaf will afford instant and close shelter for its form. But the very repose spoke to the violent passions of the outlaw, with a stimulating accent. "Ah !"' said he, "If I only had him here ! "and he clenched his fist savagely. "But I must ~get those. papers! lie will be in the camp soon to-day: He will be among the last to sail. In an hour, he will have left the hacienda. But may he not return to it, in the hope to see m~, and to learn that I have done his work? Perhaps; but hardly! He will scarce have time! Humph! Done his work! ii must do my dwn! Verily, if I meet him there, I will do it thoroughl5r! Shall I cut throats except to my own liking? By the Blessed Devils, no! I will cut his throat if I can! And if I do, what is to keep me from the expedition? I am a man for the ~vars. I will see how the lances cross with the shock of thunder. But I must get me those papers. lie little dreams that I know their hiding-place. When he goes to th~ city this morning, it will be to make ready.. He will hardly return to the hacienda. Then will I take possession. Juana knows what to do. When the ships have all gone, she goes off to the mountains. She will 15e doubly safe with the papers of the Seflorita, and of th4 Uncle-devil. She shall be safe! Then, if 1 should find him t1z~re, and ~fe~l my way into his ribs, we are all' safe! Oh! If I should only find him there! If he goes on this expedition, will my poor lady be safe a moment? No! No! There's no blinding his snake-eyes! He will see, and I know there will be trouble-and more than trouble ;-there will be a great danger always in the path of the good knight Oh! it must .be that I shall split his black heart with my knife, and let out all its poison with its blood! It must be, when there's so much good to coipe of it-when there's no safety for anybody while he lives!' I owe him a stroke of my machete! And if the Blessed Devils give me half a chance, I will pay him with a vengeance 1" We have here the passions of the outlaw's s6ul, and the plans of his mind, fairly mingled up together, in that sort of web of thought, which is the usual mental process in the setisuous nature. Don Balthazar, at this moment little dreamed of the danger which threatened him. While Mateo, making his gray PILE DANGERS OF TILE DON. 869 to the hacienda f the knight, was thus solilo uizing, the haughty Don was savag ly meditating, in his turn, up n some of the dis~ appointments w ich he had experienced. T at the Portugues~ knight still live , was a present m~noyance, nd a vital danger. lie now knew himself to be at the mercy of this cavalier, so far as his moral position was concerned. Th revelation of his secret, he well new, would be fatal to his reputation in Cuba, and the army ;-so long as the government o both was adminis- tered by persons so severely virtuous as he believed Don Her- nan de Soto and his noble wife to be. Tr e, he had a certain security for his ecret, in the very regard wh ch Philip de Vas- conselos eviden ly entertained for Olivia. S long as she lived, Philip would pr bably.~be silent, in respect t that which would hurt her reputaf on. But who was to secure the unfaithful guar- dian against the speech of Olivia herself? H r passionate blood had evidently e caped wholly from the co trol of her tyrant. He had made er desperate, in making he desolate; and he felt that, in deat alone, could his safety be made certain. He knew the nature of passionate women too wel ; and now perceiv- ed that Olivia, i this respect, too much rese bled her Biscayan mother, of who his experience was suflicien ly vivid, and who, he well knew, n the madness of her awa ened passions, had neither fear nor prudence, nor scruple of any s rt. He trembled, accordingly; pr~ ud, fearless and powerful a he was; lest the reckless, or the thoughtless word .of either t e knight of Portu- gal or Olivia de Alvaro, should, at any mom nt, hurl him head- long from positi n, making him odious to all, and subjecting him to legal, as well as social, persecution. W y had not the out~ law, Mateo, don his work upon the knight? There were surely opportunities en not. and Mateo was too w 11 known; as a des- perado, to supp se that he had either moral s rules, or personal fears! The qu stion troubled the Don, sine , from his own con- jectures, he vain y sought an answer. While he me stated these doubts, an aide of the Adelantado arrived, and br ught him dispatches from on Reman, which required his ear y presence in the city. He dismissed the mes- senger with a re l~y which promised that he w uld soon be there, and was now si ply making his final prepare ions for joining the expedition, and superintending the work of inbarkation. The officer disappear d, riding fast, and was seen at a distance, as he left the hacienda by the approaching outlaw. "Demonios!' muttered Mateo, between his closed teeth, "there goes my last chance! Had I come a hour sooner!" He had zuista en the rider for Don Baltha r. He now more 1* page: 370-371[View Page 370-371] 870 VASCONSELOS. THE SURPRISE. 871 leisurely continued his progress, and at length found himself amidst the silent groves surrounding the summer-house of the knight,-that lovely and secluded lodge which had been so fruit. ful in events affecting the destinies of some of the persons of our drama. It was fated to furnish yet another scene of dcep inter- est to the parties. Don Balthazar, burning or preserving papers, arranging arms, and armor, was busy and thoughtful in his chamber, when the old hag, Sylvia, suddenly burst into the apartment. He looked up at the intrusion, with a haughty frown; but she was not ap- palled by it. She was wild 'with excitement; and her sinister and withered features were now absolutely fiendish in the expres- sion of rage which they exhibited. She ~ould scarcely speak, so agitating were her emotions. When she did succeed in giving utterance to the cause of her excitement, she was surprised to find that her master did not partake of her wrath, and seemed lightly to listen to her communications. "He is here, Seilor;" she exclaimed,-" the villain, Mateo; the outlaw; the murderer; the robber of the old woman! He is here, Senor, in the groves; he is even now gone to the garden h6use !" Mateo had evidently neglected his usual precautions. Satis- fied that the horseman whom he had seen pushing for the city, at full speed, was Don Balthazar himself; he had been at no pains to make his movements secret. "Ah! he is here, then,-Mateo?" and.thc knight smiled with a grim complaisance, and muttered, sotto voce-" He has done it, then, perhaps, and comes for his reward! Good! He knows his time, and has, no doubt, done it efficiently! Well! I must see him." He at once rose, and, with his sword only at his side, moved quickly from the chamber. Sylvia was quite confounded; and followed, muttering her surprise as she went. Don Balthazar never once looked behind, and did not see, her; or he wQuld have dismissed her with severity. And then !-But we must not anticipate ~ He hurried on; and so rapid were his movements, that the stiffened limbs of the old woman utterly failed to enable her to keep any sort of pace with the progress which he made. He was soon in the groves; had soon overpasses the space; and, walking in the buckskin shoes, the use of which the Spaniards had borrowed from the red men,-wearingthern\ commonly when in their peaceful avocations -he entered the garden house unheard. He was confounded at what he beheld.' The outlaw had coolly taken possession recess where st stored the' pape buried in the cli examination of For a moment, intruder! He "The sound the papers in th having done th and laying his h "How now, The cool, har render surprises sion, than woul of the knight's in which he sto his hand on his the body, as a fi the advantages the chance of persons, taken t their moral res Mateo was not a showed the outi the circumstance the person he a and the exercise exhibited Mateo jthan his superior which, in the out strength, he sud~ and, before the I tions with him; down upon the c To do this was the knight, the He had been usi chest, and had ti But his fingers 54 the throat of D( that in a single r the face, while Ii of the premises. He was c od the army chest in which] ~s which the outlaw sought; est, arid he was busily engag all its contents. The surp the knight stood motionless ~aw the secret of the proceed 'el," said he to himself, "has ~ chest, and he now comes to service !" Then, aloud, adv~ and upon the outlaw's should ascal, what are you doing her dy, daring character of Mat less dangerous to him, and be the case with most peop roice, he immediately conceiv d. But, that Don Baithazar ~houlder, when he might hti rst salutation, was an absol f the surprise; and afforded )peratino a ~ surprise in turn ius at advantage, would hay sources in consequence of t ri ordinary ruffian. The forbe LW that the former would no s, to anticipate resistance, stil peeredd to think so completely of his thought, to this effect, in possession of a more dee * In the twinkling of an eye, aw, was a possession fully eq enly slipped from under the atter dreamed of~his. danger, had thrown himself upon hi est, with his head buried the work of an instant only assailant had not a single w g his machete, in prying ope rown it down upon the fioo emed to be made of steel, a n Balthazar, with a gripe oment of time, the latter h s eyes dilated wildly in their n his knees, in the on Balthazar had s head was fairly d evidently in the rise was complete. watching the cool g at a glance. seen me put away steal them, without ncing as he spoke, r, he said..-. e 2" o, was such as to ess difficult of ev&- le. At the sound ~d the predicament spoke, and only laid ~e i'un him through te surrender of all to the bold ruffian Certainly, most lost something of eir position. But trance of the knight t be likely, under less assault, from ~r in his power ;-- at such a moment, Ay searching mind with a rare agility, Lial to his wonderful grasp of the Don, had changed posi- n, and forced him ~mong its recesses. Fortunately for ~apon in his grasp. r the cover of the a few feet distant. id these grappled o close and fierce, ~d grown purple in sockets. 871 page: 372-373[View Page 372-373] 872 YASCONSELOS. "Villain, would you murder me ~" gasped the cavalier, vainly struggling to rise, and making efforts as desperate as unavailing. "You have come for it! I thought you safe, and Ecursed the Blessed Devils, that helped you off. But I did 'em wrong! They have delivered you into my hands! You thought to buy me, did you, to kill the good knight of Portugal? I'll kill you for him! I'll kill you for the poor young lady, my mistress! Oh! didn't I see, with my own e~yes, just as Don Philip saw? You ought to die a hundred deaths! But, as it's only once for you as for other men, the sooner you taste it, the sooner you get your wages. You shan't have time to say a prayer; not one: for you shan't have any mercy from God any more than from me! Die! I gay; die! Die! Die!" The knight succumbed; he had neither room nor strength for struggle. Hands and head buried in the chest, and face down- wards, he was helpless! The hoarse gurgle of his breath in the throat was already painful to the ear, and the writings of his form were those of a man vainly struggling with the last potent enemy; when, suddenly, a sound was heard by the writhing and pimost suffocated man,-a sound,-a stroke !-another, and ano- ther !-and the gripe of his enemy relaxed; and there wa~ a wild yell above him ;-but one !-and Don Balthazar felt relieved. He began once more to breathe. He felt no longer the incum- bent weight of the gigantic ruffian upon his back! Gradually, he recovered consciousness. He heard a voice calling him by name. He felt hands officiously helping him to rise; he felt a cool but grateful shock of~ water. His eyes opened to the day once more. lie looked about him: slowly, but fully, at length his ~1ance took in the objects around him. He found himtLself sehted beside the chest, from which he had been rolled out rather than lifted; and, before him, stiff in death, lay the corse of the outlaw, who, but a little before, had been so completely in his power! The old hag, Sylvia, stood at hand to help her master, and soon ex- plained the agency by which his life had been saved. She had followed him to the summer-house, curious to see and hear, and anxious for the recovery of her goods, of which Mateo had de- prived her. She had come not a moment too soon! Seeing the knight's danger, she had caught up the hatchet which was em- ployed for trimming the trees and shrubbery of the grove, and which ~Iay in the verandah of the summer-house, convenient, with saw and other implements; and, without a word,-'governed by instincts which always prompt to decisive action where the mind has few thoughts to trouble it,-had stolen behind the outlaw. tie, bent only on strangling his enemy,-with. passions which deadened the Sc ning blow from* while almost tal ed a moment. as with the edge appropriate use made every stro skull beaten in; upon the floor;- -in a moment, strength of arm pised old woma what weapon he allowed to turn crushingly and less time than ~ FATE OF THE OUTLAW. nse,-heard nothing of her the hatchet made him consc~ .mg all consciousness away V Stroke aftei stroke followed, of the hatchet; delivered wi of the weapon, but delivered ke tell fatally; until the head -and the* strong, fierce, wild, -a ghastly spectacle of death; torn from life; in the mom and passion; and, by the wit a I The outlaw knew not b~ perished. He saw not his as~ and face his danger: the i ~st, and he sunk under them, e have employed in describir 878 approach! A stun- ous of his danger, He was not allow- with the hammer, Lhout regard to the with such a will as ~vas cleft wide; the savage man rolled allowingg fn blood; ~nt of his greatest ~ered arm of a des- whose arm, or by ;ailant. He was not reiterated blows fell a helpless mass, in g the event. page: 374-375[View Page 374-375] iI CHAPTER XXXII. "Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp, with truth and loyaltyy" As You Lint, IT. IT was a goodly hour after the event, before Don Balthazar had sufficiently recovered from his sufferings to resume his acti- vity, or comply with the summons of the Adelantado, to return to the city. When able to rise and look about him, he gave his orders with customary sang froid, for the removal and disposi- tion of th~ dead body of the outlaw, which was publicly exposed during the day, and finally hungjn chains by the public execu- tioner. But this exhibition did not take place till after the de- parture of the expedition; and the good Knight of Portugal, and his page Juan, were so~at surprised at not exchanging fare- wells with the bold c~utlaw~ as he had promised them should be the case. They little anticipated for him, such a short and hur- ried transition, from the extreme health, hope and vigor of impetuous and eager manhood, to the stagnating and corrupting embrace of death; and did not learn, until they had arrived in Florida, the history of the bloody and fatal conflict which we have narrated. It was with a feeling of disappointment, that they turned their eyes upon the wide waste of waters before their prows, from the crowds upon the shore, gradually melting into masses, and to be indiPidualized no longer. As the night came on, Philip de Vasconselos threw himself upon the deck of the caramel, musing sadly upon the stars as they silently stole out to sight, and hardly knew that the boy Juan crouched as silently behind him. There was scarcely a word spoken be- tween them that night, yet, somehow, this silent attendance, and simple devotion of the page, strengthened, at each moment, the feeling of sympathy, with which the knight, from the very first, regarded him. "The boy hath a heart," quoth Philip to himself;.-" he can feel. He hath not yet survived his tenderness. But it will not be for long. The world rarely leaves us loi~g in possession of such a treasure. Were he wise, now, the sooner he flings it from him, or puts it to silence, the more sure were he to .escape its sor- rows. What profits it to us that we have the wealth that keeps us wakeful; when sleep,-sleep,-is the best blessing that we (374) COM~IUNINGS OF KNIGHT AND PAGE. 875 need, nd ought when shut min4 wound me with Thu, the kn also. They boti hood, hroughou grew 5 ently to~ and re tiess, and the b y watched footsteps; though lessened between Voyagers in a I rarely observe t] men apart on si watchfulness, hi~ knight's regard; mark; and he b by the r several ner; ~d he dis and or gin: how to the seaman; Then e spoke o they ~ere appr page any stran own e perience, along ith Cab teach his youi young and untut boy r erently 1 knew uch mor4 and ha enjoyed beseen his prose 110 CO lecture, t means an ordin~ hend; nd when gence ud thong his sit ation and Juan, hat the k ities o youth dc ordina y fashion tions alt ever alway present t dowm itt. This who ould unde ~o pray for? Oh! that I migi eyes.; or hush the heart int( its cries !" ght. The boy, no doubt, slept upon the deck, nightly b the voyage. Neither spok ether. If IDon Philip showe strode the deck at times thr4 I him the while, and somel always at a distance. Grad them. The .page followed ~'ail barque, upon the lonel~ te restraining barriers which tore; and the devotion of t unobtrusive attention, . at and he called him to his Si ade him observe the stars; ~ names; and taught him their oursed of the winds; of thei some of them were gracious ~ow others brought poison t ~the new wild world of the ~ caching, and of which Vasc~ ~e things; all of which he ha~ Ln the famous adventure. whb ~za do Vaca on his famous c ig companion various matter )red could not be expected t Listened, and loved to listen,~ of these things than the goo much better sources of kno' nt position. Of this Philip c iough he could see that thc ry boy; was quick to conce [te replied, did so shrewishly, it as much beyond his appar race. But, it was in the delk tight took most interest. N not declare themselves usua Where the heart feels quh n readiness for the summer serve the wants or wishes must show itself to the eye i'stand and love it; and it rec t shut out thought silence that only had his musings in close neighbor- ~ much; but they I himself wakeful )ughout the night, imes followed his Lially, this distance close his master. * wastes of ocean, keep the souls of ~e boy, his silent length, won the le in frequent re- nd he called them uses to the man- r mysterious birth always, in regard the atmosphere. palachian to which nsolos taught the I learned from his h he had pursued expedition; thus s of which one so *know. And the hough in sooth, he I knight supposed, vledgc than might .e Vasconselos had pag&was by no ye, and to appre- md with an intelli- nit age, as beyond ~te sensibilities of ~w, these sensibil- .ly in words, or in kly, and the emo- s, words are not f the superior* en.. and mind of him uires, accordingly, 0~ 375 page: 376-377[View Page 376-377] 876 VASCONSELO~. * mind and eye, capable of reading a very subtle, profound and mys. serious language. Now the secret of this capacity is to be found only in very active susceptibilities, on the part of him who reads. lli~ open sensibilities must be keen and watchful; he must possess a~gentle spirit at the core: he must have loved and suffered; must still love and suffer; must be full of .pity and sorrow, though he speaks little and doth not complain; and there must be a rare delicacy of sentiment in his soul, so that there shall be no change in the aspect of the other whom he seeks or esteem~, however slight, that he shall not see, and comprehend at a single glance. Nor wants he to see, except to be solicitous; nor comprehend that he may slight. It is enough, here to say, that these conditions, by which kindred spirits seek, meet, and link themselves with one another, were all found in the respect of Don Philip and the boy Juan; so that a look, a tone, a ges. ture, of one or the other, did not fail to make itself fully under. stood by both, and to command at the same time the most genial sympathy. And it shall be no long time, after such is found to be the case between two such parties, when it will be impossible to maintain cold barriers of society, keeping them separate; when the two hearts shall so yearn for the close com- munion, that the mind shall forget all the distinctions of men on land, and there shall be a gentle law controlling both, which shall do away utterly with all common usages of constraint, substituting others of a finer fabric, more subtle, apparent, and not less strong; which shall grow out of veneration and sympa- thy. Thus it was that Philip de V~sconselos soon' learned- even in that short voyage-to love the boy, Juan, as a boy of truly loyal and deyout soul; as of tender and sweet sympathies; and of tastes so delicate, as equally to confound the knight at their possession by one of his sex and race. The boy, on the other hand, might be supposed to love the knight because of his justice, his noble purpose and princely thoughts; his gr~at courage and skill in arm~; hi~s graceful carriage; and for all that was manly and great in his character. It might be that, had Philip been of the other sex, these traits would have proved less im- posing in the estimation of the page! But it matters little as to what were the causes, respectively working, by which the two gradually grew to be so well attached to each other. Enough, that such is the fact, and that they held frequent communion. With whom else should Philip commune? Never was noble knight more desolate of soul, and lone of place, than he. Often did the eyes of Philip rest searchingly upon the bronze features of the boy, with a curious and tender interest. It seemed to him tha known t his me rents, t knight fa. countena of this Si which th~ to exami eret plea continue mind wh 4 that the 1 any othe but Phili happened de Tobar Andres, bore the The e from Ha the 18th the true on the 2 the 12th one, for t of the y De Soto Adelanta all his shi at the no lachian. the old w men, of wi These we The knigl shields, ar and with' equipment a sort of the fearful quobtis or tillery. I gitivc~, ai the featu him befo )ry, as th .e eyes icied tha ice, amon ent study conduct ~e the fea ure in t the less 3h he w~s Lwo scarc s of the si , and he, none of his only ad both 1 Adelantac petition, iana on ti f the sar ate. Th 4th, being )r 18th, ii ~at period ~ar. The gave the Lo was ps arriving 41e display ever be: rld to th( om three e, many ts were d steel ai ell-tried * Theg~ hick buff arrows crossbow leet gre * d well-ti THE ARMAMENT. es which he perused, were s re; that they were, in some were grateful to his sight f the page would be cast there was an expression of tting to compassion, when h * But Philip spoke nothing occasioned: yet he* did not I ures of the youth-; and he fo s study. Nor did he,~beca to teach, and to commune pleased to instruct. And t ly sought, or found, much c p. The boy knew none, of with few friends in the expe I hem in the same vessel with] close associate in Cuba, and een taken on board the sa o-and Don Baithazar de Alv according to one of the acco e 12th of May, 1539; othe e month. In all probability fleet, in safety, reached the seven days at sea. But whe * either case, the voyage had in those capricious seas,-an fleet entered the Bay of T name of Espiritu Santo. eatly lifted at the success o in good order, and at the sa of his armament on the sh re had so splendid an army new. It consisted of no less hundred and fifty were cavalier f them, of the noblest fam~ provided with helmets, and ~ or; armed with swords of ances of Biscay; a complete eat body of the troops wore c4 oats, wadded with cotton, th( f the red men. They were ~ and carried with them a sir hounds were provided to ri med bloodhounds were held 877 cli 'as had been rt, precious to At such mo- down, and the emotion, in his was conscious )f the thoughts Lie less continue rid a strange se ~e of the study, ~rith the young ins it happened immunion with bill in the army, tion, had, as it Liimself. Nuno us own brother e barque which iro. nts, had set sail authorities say the latter was 3oast of Florida Lher it sailed dn iot been a long d in that season ampa, to which ['he soul of the f the voyage,- me time ;-and res of the Apa- been sent from han a thousand s on horseback. lies of Ca~tile. cuirasses, and he best temper, and admirable ats of escaupil, better to resist armed with ar- le piece of ar- ii down the fu- in leash, to do page: 378-379[View Page 378-379] YASOONSELOS. good duty in the thickest of the flght,-to rend or devour the naked savages, upon whom they had been. taught to feed. The chivalry of that day found nothing inhuman in the use of such an agency in war. But, as mere conquest ~were nothing without taking heed to its acquisitions, workmen, and the necessary atppa. ratus, were carried, for the purpose of smelting and~ refinixig the precious metals which they confidently expected to find. Nor were the chains, handcuffs, and collars of iron, forgotten, by which kheir captives were to be secured% in order to be shipped safely to the plantations of the Cuban. Droves of cattle, mules, and hoo's, constitu~d a more benevolent provision, made for the wants of the expedition, when it should reach the country, where the hogs and cattle were to be let go free. Accustomed to the easy conquest of such feeble tribes as the Peruvian, De Soto felt that such an armamei~t, so far surpassing those of Cortez and Pizarro, was quite equal to the conquest~ over the whole country of the Apalachian. Never a doubt of this result crossed the mind of the haughty Adelantado, and he made instant preparations for throwing a body of troops on shore, and taking possession of the territory in the name of his monarch, the Emperor, Charles the Fifth. The wealthy knight, Yasco Porcallos,.claimed the high honor of leading this party, and per- forming this act of sovereignty; and the privilege was conceded him. He was to have the command of a force of three thousand men, being, in fa~t, all those who could be prepared for disem- barkation during that day. The shipping, meanwhile, were gra~ dually warping in shore, a performance not so easy on account of the rapid shoaling of the water, and for which they had to depend upon the tides. Meanwhile, more for the purposes of solemnity and state, than because he felt the need to be taught anything, the Adelantado' called a council of his chh~f officers. Philip do Vas- conselos was invited to this conference. He, by the way, had been one of those designated to land with Va~co Porcallos, the better that he might act as interpreter, should there be any meeting with the red men. With regard to this sort of service, De Soto now more than ever felt the importance or having one with him who not only had some knowledge of the country, but who could thus become a medium of communication with its people. Though still a little too lofty and reserved towards our knight of Portu- gal, he yet descended somewhat from his pride of place in order to solicit him. He had already distinguished him by the request, that he would serve about his person as one of his Lieutenants,- a request which the other had no motive to refuse; and he cheer- fully consented to disembark among the first with Vasco Por- N callous. was that that thor unrelaxh that the pons con "The~ less race Cuba am fors it as none. I umpli ra ing batt spired b less. thai awe Witl2 unknowr escape it of foot; vellous!' TheA having, with the manage "Trul though~~ heathen, be held precauti( embarkii There Portugal "Yow of rebuk cie'ncy fc than a flee agai: rity agai those of perilling With an unwi without [Us first every ste a should' I g xgatchft ;roops shc ~tantly at e Apalaci they ar~ Peru. their best will nee her less~ I Le,-~--the y our arq thunder which thi and devc vain, and which, co: delantado L5 he thoi red men, he encout y, we are ~th some a~d some reasonable ns which Igon the was no p as he rei Excellen e, had I d( r the toils meral wai ist an or~ gist this ol all other their per~ Lhis apolo ling audi ;iving the PHILIP S COUNSEL. counsel to the Adelantado, an~ p should be taken with great e horse patrols on evei'y~ sid4 1ne~s should be required of uld sleep in their armor, an hand. ians, Sefiores," said he, "are no such feeble and timid pe Dhey love the fight with a pa delight. They ask no mercy~ all our valor and prudence, through our valor, than our n secularity of our weapons,- iebuses,-which shall seem I and swords of the subtle li~ ~y shall behold our horses; 1 uring monsters; which they whose speed shall mock th ~ipareA 'with that of other m smiled rather contemptuously ight, sufficient experience hit Lo know what precautions to ter with the enemy. thankful for your zeal a~d wis experience of our own, in the small reputation gained in oti ~ to suppose that I should ~re needful to the safety of in shores of the Floridian." pie in the tone or manner died calmly: ay says rightly, and I were~ signed to cast a doubt upor~ ~ of war in any land: but I me ning that the circumspection' linary race, ~yill hardly be a the Apalachian, whose subt races of red men, and who ons as they are ingenious in ~eti speech, he paused, seeing Lor~. The Adelantado addr sli ~htest heed to what had b 879 the other chiefs, circumspection; that the most every sentinel; have their wea- a fiercee and fear- ople, as those of ssion which pre- and they accord and we shall tri- iodes of deliver- -the terrors- in- o the savages no htning; and the o them so many ,hall endeavor to ur own fleetness en, is truly mar- ~r at this counsel, aself; in warfare ake, and how to loin, Don Philip, warfare with the Cr wars, it might ~mit none of the y followers when of our knight of reallyy deserving. 'our perfect suffi- tnt nothing more ~rhich would suf- Lequate for secu- eties far exceed re as valiant in Iheir warlike de- that he spoke to ssed his council een urged by the page: 380-381[View Page 380-381] 380 VASCONIELOS. SAVAGE WARFARE. 381 knight of Portugal; and the latter, shrugging his shoulders, con. soled himself with the reflection, that the lesson which he strove in vain to enforce, would probably be taught, though at a greater cost to his hearers, by the Apalachian him'~elf. "The experience which tutors pride to a just humility," he mused within himself; "is perhaps, the best sort of lessening; and he who wQuld succeed, when the warfare is somewhat with his own vanity, cannot be sa'i~ed from the punishment which fol- lows close upon its indulgence. It is well, perhaps, that he will not hear, since it is only right that *he should be made to feel; and our safety and success, pc~rhaps, must equally depend upon our being made to feel, at the beginning of the adventure, rather than at a later time, when we are too deeply engaged in it. But, so sure ~as there are Fates, Hernando de Soto will be certain to receive ,his lesson before he hath gone very deeply into his books." The conference,-such as it was-where there could be no dissent and~ no deliberation,~-was soon at an end. De.. Soto simply detailed his plans at length, and gave his order for the disembarkation,, the conduct of which was entrusted to the wealthy Don Vasco Porcallos; and never was ambitious mortal more eager than he to set forth on his adventures. His ap- petites for gold and captives had been growing with every league of progress which he had made on the watery waste, and still less than the Adelantado was he prepared to apprehend the pos. sibiity of failure or reverse of any sort in his present frame of mind. He dreamed only of riding down myriads of jiaked and panic-stricken savages, selecting the most vigorous captives and. spearing the rest. But Vasconselos better knew the angere, and hence the duty. He knew they were not to triumph without hard fighting, great firmness, and constant 'caution. Scarcely had the vessels appeared in sight of the coasts, than the balefires smoked on all the heights and tumuli that lined the shore, attesting the watch and vigilance of the Floridians. These were signals of danger, and announced to the warriors in the inte- rior to gather from all quarters. Philip pointed out these sig. nals to the page. "See you, Juan," said he,-" already the red men have taken alarm. Those smokes that rise every where in sight, will kindle other smokes, which shall give warning to all the separate tril5es. They will fire piles throughout the mighty forests, until the answering smokes shall ascend from the great mountains of the Apalachian. Where a people are thus vigilant to note and prepare for the first dangers of invasion, they are wailike; they will fight famously ; ' they will give us work to do, and t always, T country ( shall her( no moiflE againSt 51 prehensic whoops C sleep aiw ear ever watchful, cling cbs Could deep beal bus quiv strange a bosom ;- wonderfu scarcely they wer readiness digious e speak.. "And lachian, "With handed country him, as happen t to speak and now should g~ embark. es of the of which after mic as they' I in this ac The bi "Sefic I must b my teaci please, I ~sk equally iy boy, tI~ f deep for encounter: nt secure irprise. ( a that he f the sava~ ays, lance open to si~ as you si ely to my bhe good I ings of th ~r of his li rid oppress~ all, howe 1. yc in so ,et upon ti ~ both bus to obey ti rort that t are we, e'~ efior ?" in the ho by Don a the na interpreted ) meet wi through I think with me You are; strife fro thou hast night thor owl and I venture, f )y's lip qu r, when si ~gin, and t ing. I dc will go on y our skill and valor. So, ~t you be not at any time ~sts, and great awarded mead ~, filled with races of fearless ~rom danger; there is scarcely )ne lies down never at night, hall suddenly be summoned ~e, to face the danger in the d~ or sword in handr and with ;hts and sounds of most t~rri all behold me ever; and b footsteps, when the work of ~night, at this moment, have ~ boy's heart; could he have )5; could he have conjectured ive, all crowded for utterance ver, kept down by a will tin ung a frame! But the eyes te boy as he addressed him. y, preparing their equipment~ ie command to disembark. ie boy controlled his emotto e you watchful. surprisedd In a ows, such as we ~2Lunters, there is K a position safe without the ap- by the deathly ak. It needs to me eye and one ble import. Be sure that you death begins." felt the quick, seen the tremu- what emotions, ~ in that young ~t was perfectly of Philip were He spoke ~rhile , and getting in It was with pro- ~s sufficiently to en now, to land upon the shares of the Apa- ~r, Juan, a party of three h~iu rasco Porcallos, will take p e of the Emperor, and I an of the speech of the red h any of his race. But he '~ ~s darts and arrows, than wil f it, Juan, it Is perhaps ne on shore, until the whole coi ret quite young, and had be~t a a distance at first, than J~e no experience. Keep thine ~shalt hear the hellish clamo age around our camp. I ~ ~r which thou art yet scarcely vered, but his words were flu all I be fitted, if I never be~ he longer the day is put oft; ti not fear. I shall be with yc shore with you to-night." idred men, com- )ssession of the to accompany man, should we ill be more apt h civil tongue; edless that you rimand shall dis- ~r gather glimps- a sharer in one ears open, and .s of the savage ill not need thee ~T well fitted." inly delivered. in? Some time ~e slower will be uSeflor; if you 881 page: 382-383[View Page 382-383] 882 VASCO~Sii~tOS. "In God's name, boy., have your wish. You say rightly4. There must be a time, when this lesson must be taught, and learned, and the sooner, as you say, the better. Get on your escaupil, and see that your weapons are such as will serve to risk a life upon. Bring them hither, fhat I may see.~~ We must not linger on these details. Suffice it that all parties were soon prepared for the landing. It was on the last day of the month of May, soft, serene and sweet, that the gallant Lii. dalgo, Don Vasco Porcallos, led the way for his detachment of three hundred, andi took final possession of the soil of the Flo- ridians in the name of Spain. The solemnity was a very stately one, but needs not that w~e describe it. The banner of Castile was unrolled and elevated in the free air of the Apalachians, and ~ras planted upon one of the elevations nearest to the shore. The region was thickly wooded, the forests were all clad in the freshest verdure of the opening summer; the breeze was charged with odors from worlds of flowers, the choicest natives of the country; and a natural delight filled every bosom, and exhila- rated the spirits of tjne soldiery with an enthusiasm that seemed already in possession of the fullest successes. In pitching th4'eir can~p, Philip de Vasconselos again ventured to' give such hints to Don Vasco, as became his experience and caution. But the latter was even more sanguine than De Soto, and less heedful; and the manner in which he received these counsels of the knight of Portugal, seemed .to have been borrowed from that of the Adelantado on the occasion air~dy~ shown. He was civilly scornful, and Vasconselos saw, ~it~~i chagrin and apprehension, that the ground chosen for the ni~ht was such as would rather invite and facilitate than discourage from attack. But he could do no more. He had only to submit, and hope against his fears, and provide as well as he might, against the emergency that he anticipated; But lacking all command, with but the single fol- lower, he a child, inexperienced and evidently tired, what could be done ~ "Come," said he cheerfully to Juan, "come, my boy, and let us seek out our quarters. We are limited to a certain precinct, but this~ affords .. choice of sleeping-place, and upon this choice may rest chance of safety." The boy followed in silence. The knight rambled over the ground assigned for the encampment, and chose a little dump of wood, which afforded sufficient cover for 'a small group, yet stood apart, as it were, from the rest of the forest: affording an inter- val, over which the eye could range with tolerable freedom for some sp~e, and thus note any hostile approaches. To find this par- , ticular sp encamp E the rest bough, w Hewas I ceeded in knight m values hi me some by his n The rope "his 4 "Ah! but an ar them, wil The gr which eac were spre "It rej petite. be contend to-morro toils, thou steed. In he fail the seest him give him taken, ere and thy o is so far wouldst si And tht Ilant destri occasional] was a deli~ before se( strange sai toiled for of the for times cros ing, and ti heart of ti as he had his furnitu: )t, Vasco ~nt, but 4f the det ile, in th ne of th bringing ist love own hf )f those d rrow lod Hast t are, Seilo ow thisw xful of th help his'~ L55 was q was prof iA before* ices the k ~ie grateful through ti ~ and the shalt lear a strange ~, thou ar eat and d chance to thou sle( vn consch secure. ep with s, as they er, did V y murmu htful thu ing how isfaction, uch a ma st over ing with e gentle e boy be eldom fe] e hidden KNIGHTLY LESSONS. selos made his way t~ the v ot much farther from the sh ~chment. Here he hung his I ~ rear of the thicket, he se 1 few, but seven in number heir horses ashore that evex~ii As good steed, and care for ~. Help me now to rub hi ~'ied grasses, my boy. His 1 ~ings, and ship-board, and 1 iou brought it ~" I give him range to feed,'ye se young reeds, with their fr appetite. Let us cut them, b ickly cut with their machet erly provided, and the soft he altered animal, who fe~i1 ight~s heart to see his charg beast knows what we do for e night. Thine own shall be if thou hast never practi from me. But evermore b wild country like this, of th lost. Never feel thyself ~t ink with a will; and it were wallow in the sands. A ii p'st thys~lf; and thy steed sl nce is at peace in thy bosom, But remember thy. beast, good conscience." cared for the wants and comi sconselos speak to his pag4~; 'ed a sentence in reply or ii to see how, first, they cared hey themselves had wants. hus employed, the more perh ter; and as he passed the rou he animal's sides and thighs, hose of the good knight, and tI ords of the latter -melting in t with emotions of a singular before. The .horse stripped way in the thicket at hand~ I 88 ~y verge of the 4re than any of mckler upon a ired his steed. who~ had sue- ~. "The good im, Juan, as he down. Bring gs are stiffened ek of exercise. keep him fa~t; ~sh leaves upon s, with one of ~reen cane-tops with eagerness. m feed with ap- hirji. He will brought ashore ed these little ~ careful of thy Apalachian, .jf ease until thou well always to ;tle toil, nightly eps well also; and thy safety lways, if thou orts of the gal- and the latter quiry; but it for the .animal, Juan found a ps, because he gh, dry grasses his arms some. eir eyes meet- o his ears, the pleasure, such nd chafed, and ut alWays con. page: 384-385[View Page 384-385] $84 VASCONSELOS. vcinient, they selected their own place of repose. The dried leiwes of the forest furnished a sufficient couch; the forest pines and other trees yielded a goodly shelter. The evening was calm and grateful. The warm serenity of the season required no closer lodgings. The most perfect repose prevailed throughout the forest, and save the clamor made by the troops, not a sound was t6 be heard, whetl~er on land or sea. The soldiers dis- persed themselves about the woods, chose their places of repose as Vasconselos had done, but without any regard to his precau. tions. They saw no danger, and apprehended none, as they be. held no foe, and all was confidence, and all was excitement. "Surely, Sei'ior," said Juan, "these quiet woods harbor no enemies.~~ "It is in the quiet seas, Juan, that the shark prevails. In the tempest he retires- to his ocean caverns. The wolf prowls in the stillness of the night. The adder is a great traveller in the dark hours. It is because these forests are so quiet now, that I feel there are enemies at hand. But let us sup ere we speak of them, lest we forfeit something of appetite. Where is thy wallet ?" It was produced. The page displayed its contents, and stood in waiting. "Sit, boy, and eat with me. Thou art my companion, child, not slave. - Sit !" With a strange tremor in his limbs, and vacant look which did not escape the eye of Philip, the boy took his seat before him, but scarcely nigh. This emotion the knight ascribed to the humility of the page. He strove to soothe this b~y conde- scension, by the utmost gentleness of manner and fondness of discourse; but the effect was not ~uch as ~e expected-not just then, at least. "Time will weal' off these fears," said the knight to himself; as he broke the bread and passed it to the bo$~. "Eat, Juan!, Thou wilt need to learn ow to eat and sleep at all seasons; if thou would~ become a sol ier. We shall have to wake and fight, when it shall not please s, the ~ummons; and shall not be summoned to our food alwa s, or our sleep, when most the appetite shall call for both." When they had supped, Philip said- "Now, Juan, thou wilt watch while I sle p. I will take advan- tage of the early hours of the night, when the red man seldom prowls or strikes, and in the middle of it, I will .wake, or thou shalt waken me, that I may take thy place as watcher for the rest of the night. See, from this place, where we both lie concealed, you are enabled to nocte all that happens around you for some distance. seem un~~ own cowl done! ~ the left,'t forest. ] well! B a few flee be within for three upon the and shoul Withoi as he 5t0( his han( shoulders those to' doin of ever he mons to~ country, sessed th He sk to the h opposite. showed I cross-bo' side to The star veal obj tated ~vi1 his h tion. "Saoi shoot ?- watch o~ He 1k sleeping the boy pared quietly, enough. vey. ~ You will 'onted; ar age, or on ev~ ie interval prom that ~hind us, t bounds, speech an ~oodly ho That ti dl not, 1k it further d, threw I grasped It was: vhom the curing a ould, kno' rouse for and might ~ faculty C pt; andg: ~ad of the But wI himself res ~r, raised i ide, upon s shone v~ ets of sm~ kin himself it if some ~art beat LId I have -But he b~ ily, and r~ id the bo cavalier. did not o be atta his eyes I but with Vith hands 17 NIGflT-WATCH. observe who approaches; nol d arouse me instantly. Do ~apon, wholly, if it need tin ry side but one, lies the ew is open which separates us quarter the danger may art t a little distance, is the sea ~e may bury our forms fron I succor from the ships. T irs, without feeling the heav3 me over, I shall surely rise thou then awaken me." speech, Philip de Va~consel4 himself 'at length at the foot c his sword, which he had uns iot long before he slept; for experiencee of such a life ha ad encouraging the bl~ssing~ ving, as he had said to Jua battle might come at any mc not always please the slee] C commanding sleep at almo~ 'adually the boy drew nearer knight, whose face was turn th this scarcely audible m less. The ~boy receded, and to the level of the eye, a~a the open spaces between ti ~ry brightly, and in that reg dl size at considerable distant f very seriously the question red warrior should sudd~enl~ ~vith quickened pulses, as he the strength, the courage, 1 demenot! I was to aWake: port the danger." ~ aside, and once more eve The face of Philip was. St ~eem anxious to gaze upon ii ned when he was beside him )Oking out with sufficient w~ a sense wandering in suite o clasped upon his lap, he yiel 385 e all things that ~dt trust to your t any thing be ampment. On prom the denser ;e. Watch that in which, with * an enemy, and [iou canst watch * weight of sleep to relieve thee, s, in his armoy, f the great tree. ;rapped from his he was one of taught the wis- ~f sleep when- ~, that the sum- rnent in a savage er; and he pos- t any moment. crawlingg softly, ed upon the side yvement, Philip gathering up his I ranged it from .e trees in front. ion served to re- ce. Juan medi- appear?" asked the ques- he confidence to i him. I was to pt closely to the .11 averted. But His object ap- There he sate, ~tchfulness, intent ~her fields of sur led himself up to page: 386-387[View Page 386-387] 386 YA.SCONSELOS. fancies, dreaming and delicious, yet so touched with a peculiar sadness, that the bitter predominated over the sweet, and the big tears might be seen, moulding themselves into melancholy jew. els in the starlight, rounding theitiselves gradually upon his cheek, and dropping one by one, as they grew to brilliant. The hours swam along with the stars, and the stars waned in their silent progress for the blessing of other eyes~ and the eyes of Juau drooped at last with the heaviness upon them. He strove to shake off the drowsiness which he felt; but there was something in that foreign atmosphere which could not' be withstood, and while he strove to range along the barrel of the cross-bow, (which he had taken up with some vag~i e notion that it would k'eep him wakeful,) over the intervals whii~h spread between him and the gloQmy shadows of the wood which he had been espe- cially enjoined to watch ;-it seemed to him as if the wood it- self 'were swimming, like waves of the sea, and as if the stars descended to the plain, only to ascend on e more; to and fro; upward and downward and onward, till all things appeared to mix and mingle in his sight. Then sudde ly, he started, with a strange confusion, as he fancied he heard t e voice of Don Philip. This, for a moment, aroused him; but cooking down, he saw Don Philip still sleeping; and, satisfied t see thus, he was con- scious of little more after this for some time, though he might have been just as watchful as before. B t very soon after this, Don Philip really awakened. He found t e boy fast asleep,'with his arm thrown over his neck. He gently ~unloosed it, and rose. ~' Poor boy !"~aid the knight-" Thoi~ hast taken on thee a perilous labor, which thy slight figure will scarce endure. But sleep, and I will watch thee. I could wish thee stronger, for my sake, no less than thine; for verily, of all this host, I have now none but thee !" After a pause-.--" And there is that about the child which binds me to him; whichmake~me love him almost!' Wherefore? It is because I am alone! It is because the nature of the strong ~'nan requires a charge, a t~ust, a burden, so that his strength shall be healthfully~at exercis~; so that his muscles shall r~ot shrink, lacking due employment Well! I will pro- tect a~d help him so long as I can help an# thing, and then-but why k~ok into the vast vacancy of that da~k realm of the future, in whi~h no flower shall ever grow for me." He ~6se suddenly, as if startled~ se to his hide, and caught up the ized his sword, buckled it cross-bow ofr the page. He stole forward a few paces, and seemed to listen then returned to his place, and laid the bow again by the side~ of the sleeping Juan. His next attentions were bestowed upon his steed. The beast 886 had eat seemed his necl~ the utm and bri( did not might n death ii guards Don V~ night w of the wood in of the f to be di " sleeping~ perhaps They ~v without restless, ing in t. escape I lie r fast in i and in through tunes. be ver~y bronze face wa ed bear watch c But he til the I the int sounds There ~ fine, an away t( Meai the sad him. moinen n plentifu to recogn affectipm st care at le, and h~ loose th( ~t again 11 the enc~ relieved; sco Porca is lapsing' Itmospher his'quarti rest beyc sturbed, it 11," said I "it may have not ould othe giving us impatient teir purpo hem now. ~turned to F~e embra the impe the open In this ex~ great, an features , ii sweet an tiful. So £ hours w ~as not sn etter lighi eligible P a stick w ras an inte I seizing I where hi while, Ju~ and silent ~ut he wa~ ~, Vascons ALALRUMS. [ly, and now slept; but. rail ize his master as he drew nig ~tely, then bade him rise, an 4 silence to put on his war I ye him in readiness for ins animal; simply shortened e down. Meanwhile, every mpment.. Philip saw no Se: knew nothing of the caustic los might be supposed to awards the dawn. This he f~ ~. He stole cautiously out 1 ~r of the camp, and looked V rid. Nothing was stirring, n the cold thin air of the mo as he returned to wherc be that we shall escape to-nih yet had time for a gathering wise have never suffered t] a taste of battle., I know tb ,fearless: cunning as valiant ~es. We shall enough of thc his late resting~place. Juar e of sleep. He threw himself feet light of the stars, wh Lngs of the trees, he steadily mination the interest of the l~ I the study seemed to sadd the imperfect starlight, revea I girlish, and the face, if fair, the musing knight thought tich he maintained beside th ifered to continue the unemb~ of the morning should ena matures. fancied that he ~s broken in the woods. Hi eruption of the silence which ~is sword, he rose to his feet, steed was fastened. ~n slept on, never once conje watch which the good knigh awakened rudely from his &los heard 'a cry, that sound 887 ~ed his head, and b. Philip patted I proceeded with harness, his saddle ;ant use. But he his halter that he thing was still as itinels; heard no nary steps which iave taken. The It in the coolness o the edge of tl~ie ) the black range t a leaf seemed ning. he left the boy ;ht. The savages, of their warriors. te night to pass, em of old; fierce, and never relent- m yet, though we was still bound f beside the boy, cli looked down ~ perused his fea- night appeared to m him. But the [ed nothing. The might be count- during the long unconscious 'boy. ,rrassed study, rim- )le him to peruse heard unwanted s steed whinnied. he could not de- and quietly stole cturing aught of t had kept above dream. At that d in his ears like page: 388-389[View Page 388-389] the Voice of a woman. It appeared also 4 proceed from the spot where Juan had been left sleeping. Heby this time, had ven- tured out again to the edge of the wood, and was looking' Over the intervening space towards the dark forests lying b yond. The cry alarmed him; though it bore iio resemblance to the usual whoop of Indian battle. It migl7lt be that som wild beast~had found his way to where the boy slept-the pauth r's cry is like that of a child or girl,-and, wi excited 'puls , and the blood rapidly coursing through his ye us, Philip darte back to the place where the boy was left. He reached the sp t just in time to discover two dark forms,-cl arly men,--wh were drawing Juan away to the thickets., H readily divin d the purpose in the action. Again a shriek: nd this time he knew it for the boy's; but so full of a feminine terror, that hi heart sickened as he thought of the strange simplicity and ign rance which had prompted one so feeble to venture upon an ent rprise so perilous. He thought and felt thus, even in that mom nt of alarm. He saw that the boy struggled, a~d he further sa v that the dusky forms, by whom he had been seized, were brand shing, each, a heavy mace above his head. T~~ere was no ti e fbr further thought, or for hesitation. To dart forward, and ith a single stroke of his keen sword, to smite down one of the assail- ants; to grasp the other by the throat ai~d tear him fro the boy, then, as he staggered back, to run hih2i through the body, -was the work of a few moments. The ~wo savages lay at his feet in the agonies of death. The boy staggered, gasping, t ards him, an hysterical sob only breaking from ~is lips. With stern voice, the knight said "Seize thy cross-bow, Juan, and collect thyself. Thi is no time for fears. The Apalachian is on us." To confirm his words, at that very instant, the wild y us of the savages rose up in all quarters of t~ie encampment. The Spaniards struggled out of sleep only to encounter their en mies. The sentinels had slept. Few were awak~. The surpri was complete. "Follow me," cried Philip to th~ boy, ~ud his stern a cents, by enforcing obedience, in some degree disarmed Juan f his terrors; at all events, he obeyed. He foil wed by instinct, cross- bow in 'hand, and was at the side of the knight as the latter leaped upon his steed. "Up with thee, behind me, boy-we ha e not a ~mome ." And the light form, assisted by the p0 erful arm of hilip, sprang at once upon the steed. The spur was instantly riven into the beast's sides, and he was made to go! The wild rush, VA.SCONSELOS. 888 888 889 the mo strous for , the, gigantic bulk, of the iinpr~ssi n. A h udred naked savages darted through which he went, and fled before his p shouted loud, in tfr~ language of Castile; then I ish upo~ his bugle and joyed to hear the answ iards fro sundry quarters. Vasco Por~allos '~ back, fo though vain as a peacock, and pursy he had t e blood a1nd energy of a true cavalier, trooper were soor~ in saddle, and, charging am now yel ing and darting amidst the forests, in t of mor ing they soon changed the character of until thi demonst~'ation of the knights on hor was sei ously against the whites. The Spa not oul surprised; but fairly #outed. Started founders sleep, they had made but little opposite They fi d in tumultuous confusion to the sea-si succor t the ship~. Many of these were wou have p wished, bdt for the spirited charge oi hoi~seba k, and t~ie strange terrors occasion animals whom the~ red men had never seen bef disappe red. in tl~e forests, as soon as~ they serious resisted, almost as swiftly and sudd appeared - Vasco Porcallos was greatly delighted essay in arms against the Floridian. But, even of his p 'owess, hi~ noble steed fell suddenly d slain b an arrow which had buried itself c body. When they reached the shore, the red a~d the troops issuing in boats with drum and shipping ,Juan slipped, from behind Philip de the gro ud. "Art thou hurt, boy ?" demanded the knight "No, Seilor, thanks to your care, I have no I "Bu thou tremblest still, Juan." "Ye ,Sdi'ior, but it is not now with fear. I 1 be afrai again." "Ay boy, thou hast tasted of the strife. M grew fa ous afterwards, has felt the terrors c But I ad never forgiven myself hadst th but lef thee for a moment, and thou seest I savages came upon thee. I had watched th( hours s thou slept'st, and fancied we shouh them.'? "Ah~s! Senior, thou leftist me to watch, an 4 389 nimal, made its ut of the wood th. The knight lew a wild flour- rs of the Span- s soon on horse- as an alderman, The other five ug the red men, e doubtful light the event. But, eback, the affair iards had been out of their pro- n to the savages. * e, clamoring for ded; all would the knights on by the horses, re. The savages ound themselves uly as they had with this, his first while he boasted ad beneath him, t of sight in his en all dispersed, trumpet from the asconselos, upon urt." hink I shall never ny a warrior who thy heart, Juan. u been slain. I ow these cunning e for two goodly hear nothing of I slept. I knew page: 390-391[View Page 390-391] VASCc~NSET&S not that I slept. I knew not when mine eyes closed, and not of thy awakening." "I had too much tasked thee, Juan," answered the knight "Thou slept'st ere I awakened. It was thy arm falling o~ neck that awakened me." "My arm Over thy neck, Senor! Oh what have I and the boy hung his head. Foolish boy, and where is thy orrence this?" But the boy turned away without speaking, and little did fancy how wildly the tides were rising and falling in his bc knew ~ently. er my one?" Philip ~om. CHAPTER XXXIII. "Methinks amongst yon train, And habited like them, I well could pass, And no one mark me." v~. ARTEVELDE. IT does not lie within the plan of this legen to follow in de- tail all ~he progi~esses of De Soto in his weary arches, his long wanderi~igs and fierce battles with the Flori ian and other In- dian rates of our country~ These details m st be sought in other histories, and are available in many, to the reader. We shall only notice the generall route pursued b the expedition, through what regions, and dwell upon those e ents only, which concern the persons of the drama, with whom we have already traveller ~l through so many pages. The encounter with the red men of Apala~hia., which, as we have seen, took place almost on the very mol# ent of De Soto's landing in the country, was only the beginning of a long history of. conWcts. From tribe to tribe, from village to village, he pressed onward, only to encounter the fiercest foes, or the niost treacherous friends. But, at the very outset o~' his career, he re- covere~ a Spaniard, one Juan Ortizwho had l~een a follower of Patuphilo de Narvaez, and had become a capti'~e to the Apalach- lans. ~n a captivity of several years, he had acquiredd the lan- guage qf many of the tribes, and alx~ost lost l~is own. This ac- quisitio~i rendered De Soto somewhat independent of the services of Phulipde Vasconselos. The latter was ~oon ade aware of this consciousness of independence, on the part of t e Adelantado. Eager for the attainment of the great Qbjects of the expedition, the famous cities, and the golden treasure, w ich 'were believed to be locked up in the Apalachian mountains, Soto lost no time in unnecessary delays. Dispatching his large t vessels to Ha- vana with the view to cutting off all thought n the part of his followers, of returning home-in this policy, emulating Cortez, and other great leaders,-"Soto retained but a ingle caravel, and two brigantines, to keep possession of the sea coast and the bay where he had cast anchor. To this charge, h appointed Pedro Calderon, an old soldier. He next proceeded o send f9rth vari- ous sn~all expeditions into the country, seekh~tg gold aud infor- mation~ None of the parties thus sent forth failed to experience (391) page: 392-393[View Page 392-393] 39~ YASCONSELOS. curious and exciting adventures; but tl~ey do not affect gend. We must not forget, however at from this n we lose our famous millionaire, Don Vasco Porcallos, w] adventure in a swanip, in which he narro~rly escaped sum cured effectually of all his warlike ambition, and who r with ~he fleet to Cuba. Soto set forth himself; after no great delay, for the ii His splendid cavalry were free for use, by the employer hordes of captive Indians who carried the heavy luggage expedition. His foot marched at an easy rate, the caval~ * curing supplies, and clearing the forests ~s they went. way, the army marched from Tampa to A~aica near the ii Tallahassee. The brigantines, meanwhile, coasting the sho covered the harbor of Ochoa, now Pensacola. Moving Anaica, Soto marched east, and successj~rely crossed the~ Ockmulge, Oconee and Ogechee. He finally reached ti vannah. These marches were not made in peace. War ai ror hung upon the footsteps of the Spaniards. Every whei~ met with foes ;-~-not such foes as the feeble Cuban or Peru' but fierce, stern, strong, implacable enemies,- accustom hard blows, and to a life of incessant warfare. The ~idvai lay with the Spaniards, but only as a consequence of their nor civilization. They owed their victories to their cavali firearms, rather than their valor. In this quality, the Ap~ ans were equal to any people that ever lived. The Spa~ proved merciless conquerors. They mutilated where th not destroy, or desire to make captive. They had brought them handcuffs of iron for securing their prisoners, and ironed, the miserable wretchess bore the baggage. of theIr c~ through the wilderness. Their conquest was not easily Thousands of the red men perished in the conflict, and the iards did not always escape. It was not easy to ride down fierce savages. Many of the whites perished. De Soto, hi~ had several narrow escapes in close personal conflict, in whici for his companions in arms, he must have been slain. We not say that, on all these occasions, Philip de Vasconselos tamed himself according to his reputation. He suffered n aster. His page was equally fortunate. The latter had ri~ his master's esteem, as he had subsequently shown more co than had been promised by his first encounter, at the landi~ the troops. From that moment, he exhibited no signs of~ He was ever near the good knight, and proved always read~~ the cross-bow. Of what effect were the arrows he diseha we have no means of knowing. Enough that he contrive Our le- ment, om aii cation, turned tenor. ent of of the y pro. n this odern 'e, dis. from rivers e Sa- d ter- they ian- ~d to tages supe- ~ and lachi- Liards y did with thus ptors riade. ~pan- I~hese lself; but need riain- dis- m in rage g of fear. with ged, d to ISOLATION OF PHILIP. 398 satisfy the spectators-if any may~ be thought to have been spec- tators at such a time, and in such fields-of h~s stoutness of heart a~id readiness of aim. Philip de Vasconselos himself was satisfied, and felt ~nore at ease in respect to the boy's safety, than he had been at the first opening of the campaign. He ~yas more than satisfied in other respects. The boy proved an intelligent companion. In his society the knight found solace, and oft~n did he fuel surprise, at the equal taste and intellect, so different from his race, which, as they grew more and more inti- mate, t~ie boy betrayed. Of course, Philip had not forgotten what Mateo had told him, that Juan, the son of a free woman of the mo~intain5, had been carefully nurtured, and had not been wanting in such education as could be procured by money, in such a region, during that early period. But the intellect of the boy declared for gifts; quite as much as acquisition-such gifts as were not often found in any other than the white race. But, though such exhibitions surprised Philip, quite as much as they delighted him, yet his moods and present employment were not of a sott to suffer him much speculation upon them. - lie was, after a ~vhile, quite content to enjoy their benefits, in the solace 4iich they brought, without questioning their source; and he needed all this solace. He was still alone, and still, in spite of his services and valor, quite as much as before an object of jea- lousy among the Spaniard~ Nuno de Tobar, indeed, was still his friend, and he knew others in the army, who were kindlily inclined; but it was not often that the parties saw each other. They were in different commands, and frequently detached on expediti6ns, aside from the main route. There had been* no absolute reconciliation between the Portuguese brothers; and Andrea still kept aloof; though we may state that his bitterness of mood had been modified. But they rarely met. Philip was * a frequent volunteer when perilous or adventurous service was required. It was in this way, mostly, that he exercised his skill in arms, save when summoned to the special assistance of the Adelantado, to whom he was nominally an aide; but this rarely happened except when captives or embassies were to be examin- ed, and interpretations made from their language. This requi- sition, too, had been of infrequent occurrence since Juan Ortiz had been recovered. He, however, sometimes failed to under- stand the tono~ues of foreign tribes, and thus it was that Philip was needed. ~But for this, his uses in the ar~ny, according to the estimates seemingly put upon them by his superior, were of little moment. Philip felt this treatment, and his boy showed that he felt it 17* page: 394-395[View Page 394-395] 894 VASCONSELoS. also. The two lived to themselves apart. They lay bcn4 same trees at night: they harnessed their horses in th glade. They sat together at the same repast; Juan ret: hind his lord, and speaking with him thus; except when, a as finally was frequently the case, Philip bade him to sil him, or before him-a proceeding which the knight adop' better to encourage the boy, arid tQ overcome his excess ness. And he gradually succeedect The boy, who shrar all other associations, gractually grew to him, as the vine to the mighty tree. Soon he came to speak freely ever own secret fancies and emotions, and it really pleased the to hearken the language, still timidly spoken, of a young lug heart, possessed of the deepest and tenderest feelings the isolation in which he lived, and the wild seclusion realm of shade arid forest, seemed rather to expand an~ bk, than subdue and overcome. The deep solitude wI ceived them as they went, seemed to open the Warmer foi of their human nature, as society rarely opens them. 3 together -ineessantly~forced to communion by the re~ treatment of the rest-sleeph~g near each other by ni~ countering the same toils ahd dangers by' day,.-breaki saffle loaf when they ate, and, naturally inclined to each ot kindred sensibilities,-it was soon evident to each that the of their lives lay chiefly in the regards of erie another. was a sad simplicity in both their natures,-a grave tend -of soul, which still further helped to cement their intimacy it was soon felt-by Philip, at least,-that, in this ne seemingly incongruous relationship, the peculiar pangs ai: appointments which he had experienced in Cuba, were fast the sharpness arid severity of their sting. He sometime: dered at himself that he so much craved the companions the boy; but he was too much~ pleased with the enjoyment to question its sources. When they were apart he muse his fondness: with curiosity. Why should he, a knight of gal, feel such sympathy for this Moorish urchin? It was that he recalled the boy's devotion to himself.-his goodn heart, his gentleness of mood, the quickness of his mm delicacy of his fancy, and his general intelligence. These d suffice to account for the hold upon his affections which tli had taken. In all his meditations when leff to himself he no solution of his problem. When the boy was at haric they spoke together, there was no problem. It seemed t quite natural, at such moments, all the affection that he I all the sympathy that warmed him to the dusky page. ath the same ~ed be. times beside ed, the re shy. ~ from grows of his knight confid. which )f that deve- ich re. ritains Lirown ulsive Lit, en- ig the ter by ~harm There ~rness and v and it dis- losing won- up of of it upon ~ortu: 1 vain ~ss of I, the d not boy fbund and )him 39A SUSPICION. 895 To all ot ers, Juan was a stone,-inse~sible, unattractive-a sullen, reser ed arid silent boy,-submissive, but retiring; hum- ble, but not soliciting; one of whom nobody entertained thought or question; of whom the common speech in camp was, that this page was just suited to the haughty and sullen master. There was an exception perhaps to this general judgment. D.~al- thazar de Alvaro was observed to note the boy with a persevering eye. Juan was the first to be aware of this. It did not finally escape the notice of Philip; but it did riot occasion his surprise or curiosity. In the case of Juan, however, it was something of an annoy~rice. Had he been watched, it would have been seen that he ~otight to avoid the eyes of Don Balthazar-that he was somewhat agitated when they met suddenly-that he spoke with a slight tremor of voice in the' hearing of the Don, and es- pecially when, as was sometimes the case, he was required to answer his demands. It sometimes happened that Don Baltha.. zar sought V4sconselos at his post, or where h~ had cast himself down for the night. On such occasions-as he considered the ostensible si~bject upon which the former came,-he could riot forbear musiiig upon its ii.~madeqi~iacy as a plea for coming. The parties did riot love each othc~r. Their instincts wei~e hostile. There could riot be any cordialit~y between them; and, such b~ing the case, wh~ Don Baithazar shoiz ld seek him, unless with reasons of necessit~~was a frequent subject..~of Philip's surprise. At .such times, he alWays drew an unfavorable augury from hi~ coming. "He meaki s mischief~" said he aloud, one evening, after the departure of Don Balthazar from the place where he had laid himself dow~ to rest. "Why should he come to me, and on such pretext? What is it to me whither we move to-morrow, or what new dreams fill the brain of the Adelantado? ~et him march, east or west, along the plains, or among the mountains, I care nothing! and, sure, he knows it. He knows, to ~, that I love not his serpent nature, and his subtle and treacherous eye. He knows, t~o; that Lam riot to be deceived in him! besidess, what can he~ seek of me? I am poor arid powerless. ~ELe can win nothing rrom my weakness~ If he comes, he can only come in hate! Yell what have Ito fear? Him I fear not, and he knows it too. Yer4y I believe, that did he riot fear me, he would have sought to s~ay me ere this, -nevertheless--I feel it-by sure instinct, I feel it-this man means mischief." "He is a ~rillain !" was the bitter speech of Juan from behind the tree, wh4re he ha~1 crept quietly. "Hat Ju ri are you there, boy? But what do you know about Don l~althazar? Ah! Juan, if you knew what I know of page: 396-397[View Page 396-397] 896 VASCONSELOS. that man-had you but seen what mine eyes have look~ "Seen, Senor ?-" was the faltered inquiry. "Aye,~boy, seen! But it is not for you t~o hear-not for tal to hear. Yet, were it not for another-4his victim-one to rue, once as my own eyes,.-but for her,-J had long taken the monster by the throat, and declai1ed. his crime a while I strangled him in deadly punishment! You say Juan; though you know nothing. Don Balthazar de Alva one of the blackest of all the black villains that poison an face the blessed thi man boy ngs of earth. He hath been my fate- sobbed, "And mine !" but the words did not i the ears of Philip, and when he looked kound, and called aga~ the page, he was nowhere to be seen. ]~re he returned that ij Vasconselos was asleep. The boy had e~ten no supper. He c close by his sleeping master, and wat4~hed over him for w~ hours, with big tears gathering fast in his eyes the while. at the dawn, the knight awakened, he s4w Juan sleeping, wit~ head sunk against his own shoulder; ~nd the stain of tears still upon his cheek. d on or. dear ince oud, ight, o i~ de- that ach n to ght, rept ~ary hen, his was CHAPTER XXXIV. "Hell put it in The enemy's iriind to be desperate." MAsSJ ~GsR. WE can nly give glimpses of a progress, every form of which was di tinguished by its own interest and capricious varie- ties. We ha e shown, thus far, the relationships of our parties; and how the grew, and what were their developments. Each day gradually contributed to unfold the increasing dependence of Don Philip nd his page upon one another; and both were watched, tho gh neither perhaps saw to what extent, by the ser- pent eyes of on Balthazar de Alvaro. Meanwhile, Philip de Vasconselos eemed to grow less and less in favor with the Ade- lantado, who now rarely summoned him to his service; and, except when. they met, seemed to have forgotten his existence. On such occasions there was an evident distance of manner in the bearing o~ D~ S6to, amounting~almost to. repugnance, which increased the regrets of Philip that he had ever joined th~ expe- dition. His mortification at having done so, would have been unendurable but for a certain indifference of mood, which ren- dered him reckless what became of him,-reckless of all things, indeed; and ~nade him just as well satisfied to rove without a purpose, and fight without a cause, as to sleep beneath h~s tree, when the day had closed in exhaustion. Latterly, his feeling grew less different. He seemed to be slowly acquiring a new interest in li~'e. He was conscious of more impulse, c~f aim, and objects, yague, indeed, enough, and which he did not peek to pursue, but which served to show, that life for him still ~ad its resources, even its attractions, and was not wholly der~ied an object. But ~f the question as to that object was asked 9f Don Philip, he wo&ild have been without an answer. Enough that under existing~ circumstances, he could find his associations still endui'able ;-without an~object in life, he could yet find life not. wholly a burden and a curse! The brooding mind was not suffered much opportunity for ex- ercise, in the progress pursued by De Soto. That ambitious chief- tain, in his appetite for conquest and power, kept his followers sleepless. We may now, with tolerable certainty, follow the route of the ~paniards upon the map, and trace their course from (897) 396 page: 398-399[View Page 398-399] 398 VASCONSELOS. the Bay of Tampa, into and through Georgia, even to carolina. Their progress was erratic. They were easily to aside by lures of gold, in this or that quarter; and th~ impe I ly understood reports of' this or that Indian. guide, frequ misled them from the direct course, to wild actYontures, strange episodes, which diverted them from the true disco 4 In all their progresses danger hung upon them in the rear disappointment stood in waiting for their approach. One or adventures briefly narrated, will serve to illustrate their history; and we linger over a single instance, which en Yasconselos tc recover a portion of De Soto's favor. There was a Floridian Chieftain, or King, named Vitae who had stubbornly resisted all the approaches of Soto. latter, by treachery, contrived to secure the person of this C tam. His next object was to win his favor-a measure conce to be by no means difficult, inasmuch as the Adelanted making captive the Chief; had slaughtered near a thousand o warriors, who had sought to rescue his person. Vitachuco, th kept as a prisoner, and watched, was still allowed certain p leges. He ate at the table of Soto. He was still able to c mune with his subjects, hundreds of whom were employed a the Spaniards, as slaves and drudges. To these Vitachuco c municated his secret thoughts and purposes. He was n willing captive. But he was politic. He met subtlety ~ subtlety. He suppressed his indignation,-appeared not to the restraint put upon his footsteps, and so behaved, as enti to disarm the suspicions of his captors. But the fiery mdi tion was working in his soul, and he only wanted the pro moment and opportunity, in which to break his bonds, avenge himself upon his captors. This design was reserved a day of feasting, when Soto entertained his captive along other nobles and princes of the Apalachians, held in sim bonds with their superior, or of other tribes whom he desired conciliat~,. Vitachuco was too impatient of his injuries to th wisely, or to resolve with prudence. He did not heed the I that himself and followers were unarmed, and were t grap} if grapple they did, with foes who never laid aside thei weap~ or their mail. The fearless savage resolved to try th st~'ug at all odds, unprepared as he was, at the approaching epast; which he.had due intimations. The four pages or ser , t waited upon him, ~were all boys, but he entrusted the, with secret. They communicated with such warriors as e hims could not see; and the, plan was rapidly matured for expect~ the very next day, being the day assigned for th , feast )uth )ted bet. ~it1y and ~ry. and two aily )lCd leo, The iief- ved in his Ligh ivi.. In- a ith cc ly na. er ud or ith ar to le, ns le at 'S if 1) g. TREACHERY. p399 According to their, plan, Vitachuco was to spring upon the Ade- lantado, and kill him if he could, while they were at dinner; his followers doing the same good service for all the Spaniards pre- sent-and, without, for all others upon whom, they cot4d lay hands. The village of Vitachuco was to be the scene of action. lt happened, the evening before the event, that Juan, the page of Vasconselos, remarked the activity of Vitachuco's pages, and that they held frequent communications with their people. Crowds of the red men were seen i coming to the encampment, or crowding stealthily about it. he place where Vascoiiselos found shelter, usually, on the verge of the encampment, was fa- vorable to observation; and the co stant coming and departure of the Floridians, compelled the bo 's observation, and prompted him to communicate with the kni ht, his master. They both watched, and discovered enough, a all events, to render them suspicious. They redoubled their vigilance, and found that some provisions, ra~her~ novel for a feast, had been made by the sava- ges. They found hidden in the coi tiguous woods, large bundles of darts, barbed with flints, that we e ready for use; and scores of huge macanas or war maces, edged with flint also, a single blow from which, in a moderately strong hand, would cleave the skull of any Spaniard, though covered with helm of steel. To effect these discoveries, and to guard in some degree against the designs of the savages, by putting the army on the qui ~vi~e, was a work of time, and the Adelantado was ahead at dinner with his treacherous guests, ore Philip do Vasconselos' was pre- pared to unfold his discoveries. Now,-speaking of things without regard to persons-the Spaniards were quite as treacher- ous as the Floridians; and it was with a bitter smile and sneer that Philip, commenting upon the small claims of the f~prmer upon his fidelity, said to Juan "It is liar against liar, serpent against serpent I-what have we to do with it, boy ~? It were just as well that we should see them strive together, and clap hands equally to behold thq good stroke delivered by Floridian or Spaniard I" But the sympathies of race and education prevailed, and the white chieftain, with a feeling of unutterable scorn, which he con- cealed under the most courtly demeanor, suddenly appeai~'ed at the place of feasting,-to which he had not been invited,~-J-when all was most hilarious, and the Adelantado as little dreaming of the dessert which the Floridian had provided, as of any other good blessing, with which he might profitably dispense. Vas- conselos, as we say, suddenly appeared within the circle, and for a moment, quietly surveyed it 'without speaking. page: 400-401[View Page 400-401] 400 VASCONSEI~OS. StTDDEN CONFLICT. 401 Whether it was that the scorn which he felt, some~ itself in his features, or that the Adelantado was in behold him with toleration, whom he had not recei~ is not easy to be said. It is certain, however, that what forgot his courtesy in the reception which I knight~of Portugal. With a stern look and chilling cried out, as he beheld him "how now, Sir Knight of Portugal, what is it bi this presence at this unseemly moment? We had n ed the honor of your attendance. The brow of the knight of Portugal grew black a "Senor Don Hernan de Soto, Philip de Vasconse favor or courtesy from any man alive! He comes courtier, or as a guest, but as a soldier, who shrinks f even when it needs that he should appear where he i come! What I have to say, by way of apology for ow, is soon spoken. Ask of the savages whom yo ur camp is girdled by a thousand red warriors, wh f their prince have been in such frequent communion nd why, all on a sudden, such provision as this is n lenient places, in all the neighboring woods ?" Saying these words, he took from an attendant own upon the board, and amidst the guests, bund] apt in skins of the rattle-snake, and a score ol acanas, such as we have described already. At t hese objects, and before the Adelantado could reply conceived the insolent speech of Vasconselos-insole in tone-the war-whoop rang wildly through the rible yell that shook the hearts of the assembly, as wi voice of doom. Vitachuco, from whom the signal cs to his feet at the same moment, and, in the twinkling~ he sprang, like a tiger, full upon Soto. With or seized him by the collar, while, with the dther, he de a blow between the eyes, as made the blood fly, an the Adelantado to the floor, as heavily as falls the ox stroke of the butcher! All wa~ confusion in that moment. Terribly d whoop of the savages ring throughout the hall ;-an through. all the avenues of the village, where the Vitachuco were collecting at the signal, as had bee among them. The Spaniards, never dreaming of att armed savages, were taken completely by surprise. lantado lay stunned and senseless beneath the gr chuco, and all was confusion, and uncertainty, withi vhat sh~ rio moo ed to fi Soto S4 e gave~ accent wed I to vor, me- the he ings yc~u to he repi los askL Lot now ~om no s never my pres u feast, y the p iwith ti ade, at~ and es of the h~ e sigl~ to wh~ nt in 54 hall; aJ h a suc rue, st~ of an e han~ lthim~ [proatr~ beneath d this ~ I witho~ cdlower~ agreed ek fron~ The A sp of iand 'ed: no as a uty el- uce hy ges eni, ou.~ rew rts, 0 avy ~ of~ he ~nse ter- den ~ted ~ye, he uch ted the var- of on un- .de- ita- ith- out. The Indians, Everywhere, seized whatever implements they could lay hands upon for weapons. Some grasped the pikes and swords of the Spaniards; others snatched the pots from the fire, and emptied the contents over their foes, while beating them about the head with the vessels. Plates, pitchers, jars, the pes- tles from the mortars wherein they pounded. maize; stools~ benches, tables, billets of wood; in the hands of the fierce Flo- ridians became instruments of war and vengeance! Never had such a fight been-seen; so promiscuous; urged with such novel weapons; and so full of terrQr and confusion. The terror and danger of the scene were duly increased by others yet, who, plucking the flaming brands of ligktwood from the fire, darted into the thickest of the fray, shouting like furies, and looking more like demons from the i~7Ifernal regions than mere mortal combatants! Such was the scene and the character of the struggle through- out the village. The Spaniards recovered themselves promptly an& fought desperately, and conquered finally; but they suffered severely. Besides those who perished, many were terribly bruised, scalded, burnt, and maimed. Arms were broken, teeth knocked out, faces scarred for ever; the very handcuffs on the wrists of many of the savages, becoming fearful means of in- jury and assault in the promiscuous and close struggle, hand to hand. ln the hall of the great house of the village where the Ade- lantado had feasted the ~Dassique, the conflict, though involving smaller numbers, was no less fearful and savage in its character. But for the presence of Philip de Vasconselos, and his active energies and vigilance, Soto, and all the party, must have pe- rished. The Adelantado, as we have seen, was stunned by the first desperate assault of the Indian Chief. The latter clung to his victim, and would very soon have finished his work, but for the quick movement of Philip, who darted to the rescue, and passed his sword through the body of the savage, while, tiger-like, he was tearing the neck of the Adelantado. The Spanish knights, at this sight, recovered from their consternation, and a dozen swords were crossed in an instant in the body of Vitachuco. The furious savage died without a groan, glaring, with fellest rage, upon his enemies, in the very ~omcnt when his last breath was passing. The Indians who remained in the hall were dispatched in like manner, but not before ~hey had inflicted hurts upon the Spaniards which left their ghastly marks through life. The end was massacre. Discipline prevailed over rude and ferocious valor. The people of Yitachu~o, thirteen hundred warriors, the 400 401 page: 402-403[View Page 402-403] 402 VASCO~SELOS. sower of his nation, perished in the affair, or ere but hered after it. Such is a sample of the fierce character P the re men of Florida, their desperate valor, and the sleep ss pass n for CHAPTER XXXV. freedom, which they indulged at every peril. Th charac er re- mains unchanged to this day. The people of Vitac uco oc upied PAUL.-" Did you note the same region which the Seminoles maintained, 4th su sur- The majesty she appears ia? uprising skill and courage, foil five years, against th army f the CLEON.Yes, my good Lord United States, in recent times. I was ravished with Tuis event had a considerable effect in restoring Vascon to the favor of De Soto. The Adelantado could not ungrac ly forbear to acknowledge a service to which he owed his life and probably the safety of his army. He, ~ccordi: thanked Philip in stately language, hidalgo-~ashion, in the ence of all his troops. But his pride kepthim still in mer of that haughty reserve of the Portuguese cavalier, which h~ offended his anwur propre at first; and as Philip, while as cc ously receiving the compliment of the Adelantado, in a styl dissimilar from that in which it was couched, abated nothing his own dignity, it followed, that the debt which De Soto of gratitude, was rather irksome and burdensome, than gr~ to that haughty cavalier. He had, besides, ever at hand, pering insidious suggestions in his ear, the wily Don Balti do Alvaro. This knight did not suffer the natural feelings c Soto to have full play at any time, in his relations to the P guese. But for his constant labors, it might have been that was naturally noble in the bosom of the Adelantado, would asserted itself lo the extent of doing full justice to the men Philip; and giving full exercise to his own proper courtesy honor. As it was, the intercourse between the knight of P gal and the Spanish Chief, though more, courteous and gra than before, was. scarcely more cordial; and Philip remains before, companioned only by the page Juan, who clung to more closely than ever, and grew daily more and more nece~ to his affections. We pass now over a considerable tract of time, of whic shall make no record, but which, though full of toils and st trials and vicissitudes, found our drarnatis personc~ unchang their several relations. The army, meanwhile, had marched Florida into Georgia,~had crossed that State, and at length preached the waters of the Savannah. In the province of however, Dc Soto experienced an embarrassment in his proc which rendered it necessary that Philip de Vasconselos shou again conciliated. The dialect of the red men changed, an (403) selos aous- own ugly, pres- nory so urte- e not ~fe ~eful whis- ~iazar f De ortu- what ~iave ts of and ortu- cious as him isary hwe r~fes, ed in from i ap.. Cofa, ~ress, be 61 the page: 404-405[View Page 404-405] 404 VASOONSELOS. COFACHIQUI. 405 interpreter, Juan Ortiz, was no longer competent 6a~acity. Phjlip had traversed this very region. place of Ortiz; negotiated with the Cassique of C more had the satisfaction, if any it were, of seeing t Adelantado turned upon him with favor. But ti knight regarded these kindly demonstrations witi lie had survived all, care, in respect to the carria~ tilian Captain, and his followers; and simply contc with the performance of his duty, as it rose, witho heed to the profit or the loss which might follow With the Cassique of Cofa, he concluded an air which secured the support and friendship of a veryj From hirn~owever, it was learned that there were ful potentates, yet beyond them, to the easb whon more necessary to conciliate. Much was said of Queen of Cofachiqui,-a province just beyond; ti of which was. very numerous, and the territory ye was reported to be very rich, also, in gold, pearls, a cious treasures. The young Princess who ruled th4 lately come to her throne. She was pronounced t beyond description, and the imagination of the Ac greatly inflamed by what he heard, of the surpass the maiden, her vast empire, her great treasures, a and power of her connections.. Her blood mingle5 the great Chieftains and Princes who ruled along 1 Chatahoochie, Alabama, and Mississippi. The Cass very powerful as he himself claimed to be, yet ackr inferiority to this Princess; his incapacity to encouni in war, and the fear which he felt of provoking Patofa, the chief in question, hated as he feared; add that, with savage cunning and ferocity, he con the sheltering wing of the Spaniards, to execute no 1 upon the people and country of the power which h dreaded; butchering without remorse, and plunder he had the opportunity of doing so in secret. For I De Soto was compelled, however reluctantly, to savage chieftain to his own country, with all his fol. policy was conciliation; particularly in the case of beautiful, so well connected, so wealthy and power Cofachiqui, whose territories he had already pe whose chief settlements, on the banks of the Sava now approaching with all possible expedition. Jt was at a spot on the west side of the Savanna. the river sweeps boldl~'beneath the shining walls ol to act I He toe )fu; any ne eyes~ e Porti~ indiffe~ ~e of th~ nted ut givm ipon his cable t )otent 5 more it wa Prine ie pop ~y fertile rid oth9 count be be elantad rig bea id the with 131 he wat( ique of owledg er her t tier hos and we tinned, .ttle mi~ loathe rig, whel hese re~ dismiss owers. a 1~rinc~ E~ul, as h wtratec! nnah, h~ i, just ~ Silver ri this k the Once nif the guese ~ence. Cas. riseif ~ any toils. 'eaty, vage. rwer- e en ss or La ion ~. It T ~CJ ii 'ful ) vas 13 of e~ Ith. a of r~ of C~fa, d~iis 3i1 ty. r~iay in er chief ie~~er ~r of and ~as ~hero Bluff, that the Adelantado, with a select detachment of a hundred cavalry, and as many infantry, emerged from the great fo~'ests, with the view to the passage of the stream. The noble river lay broad before him in the cloudless light of a noon-day sun. On the depressed position which he occupied, an esplanade of sw~imp, liable to occasional overflow of the freshets from the rapid rising of the waters, he looked up to the high banks on the opposite shore -now of Carolina-and surveyed a prospect before him wit~i un- qualified admiration. The mighty forest ranges had been scarcely broken in any quarter; and the gigantic oak, the hickory, the inub berry, and black walnut, stood up, and spread away in mighty ranks, solemnizing the scene as far as the eye could reach. Ter~ minating long vistas, rose the rustic cots and cabins of the people of Cofachiqui, stretching in a half circle, which followed the course of the stream, and sufficiently nigh to enable the inhabitants to take their fish from its waters, without inconvenience, to their homes. Conical mounts, and terraces, artificial areas, consecrated to religious rites, or public sports and gatherings, relieved, with the villages, the monotony of the unbroken forest. Upon a bold promontory to the right, surrounded by trees of the greatest age, and most remarkable aspect, rose up the temple of the tribe: a rude but pictui'esque edifice of logs, encircled with pillars, around which the wild vine had been trained to run. So that the whole fabric, relieved of all rudeness to the eye, seemed to be'the handiwork of the endowing Spring herself; a green and purple trophy, vines, flowers and fruit, worthy tq be the scene of ~nno- cent rites, and the religion of a pure and simple-hearted pe~ple. It was surrounded by tumuli-by the graves of ages, overgrown b like manner with shrubs and vines. In the recesses o~' the temple, were other treasures of nature and trophies of art. There, subsequently, the Adelantado gathered heaps of pearl- bushels of treasure to the Spaniards ;-and there also were found some melancholy memorials of their own and other Eurojean l)eople. Shields, and helmets, and daggers, and spear-h~ads, cast away by the followers of Cabeza de Vaca, or more probably by those of the cruel and luckless Vasquez de Ayllen, at the mouth of the Combahee, which, according to Indian computation, was but two days' journey from Silver Bluff. But we must not anticipate. When the brilliant cavalcade of the Spanish Ch\ieftain arrived at the west bank of the Savannah, he found the ~pposite shore 'covered with groups of the red men, looking out and watching his approach. The sighs of vigilance and confident strength were everywhere present to his cycs. The boats were numerous page: 406-407[View Page 406-407] 406 VASCONSELOS. along the bai~ks, but they were all on the eastern si e of th r ver. Bands of warriors might be seen hastily arraying these s in their rude armor, and hurrying,-each as he mad himself r ady -with javelin, and spear, and bow, to join the c owds t a ga- thered by the river. Conspicuous among those u on the uks, were to be noticed a group of six persons, of very noble ( ear- ance, all of whom had ~passed the middle pen d of hf. To th~se, great deference was shown, and soon a gr ~t cano , pro- pelled by several strong rowers, approached the s ot wher they stood. They entered the canoe in silence, and, a omen a~er, it shot across the stream to the spot where De Sot had a ri~red, at the head oC his array. The fearless chieftains of the forest approached him with a calm dignity, and a nobi grace, jhich struck the Adelantado with surprise, and compel d his r s~ect He soon perceived that he stood in the presence of peopl , ~~rery far superior to those whom he had hitherto enco entered n the forests of the Floridian-superior in grace and art, f not in~ ~lor. De Soto hastily seated himself in a chair of state, w ich he rried with him for occasions ~like the present. The deput tion of l~iiefs made three references as they drew nigh,-one to the a~t, a second t~ the west, and a third to the Spanish Chi ftain. hen, they spoke through one of their party, a lofty and enerabi i~an, whose brow and hearing declared for habitual aut rity, a d the consciousness of power. He demanded briefly- "Wherefore do you come, stranger ~ Is it for eace or r Philip de Vasconsolos interpreted, and reported he ans~w e for the Adelantado in the language of Cofachiqui. "For Peace! we are friends. We ask only for a free p s ag~ through the lands of your people, and their help, with rat and 43anoe, in crossing your big rivers. We will pay r these elps in goods of our country." A long and pacific conference~ followed. The red en we e too well assured of their own pqwer to dread the s all an of strangers before them. They knew not of the fe rful w ons which they bore, and the powerful arts which t ey poss sed. At the close of the conference, the Chief of the eputati n re- peating his friendly assurances, said that he mu recei e the commands of Co~alla, the young Queen, his mistr ss. S was young- had but lately assumed dominion over t em, an hey were required to consult deliberately before the peril her authority, or the peace of the country, by any a tion o t ~eir own. But he did not doubt, that, from the gene ous nat re of this princess, she would do all in her power to pr mote t e ob- jects of the strangers. THE PI~INCESS COCALLA. 407 They did not err in this conjecture. Perhaps, their own report prompted her compliance, or, at all events, provoked her curi- osity. It was nQt long after their return to the settlements, when the attention of the Spaniards was drawn to shows of great bus- tle and preparation along the opposite shore. The crowd con- tinued to gather. There were sounds of conchs and the oc- casional clamor of rattle and drum, regularly timed, and s~gnifi- cant of a gathering and a march. While the Spaniards ~azcd, ~curious and anxious, a procession was beheld emerging from the woods, in the midst of which, seated upon a sort of palar~quin, and borne upon the shoulders of six able men, was the form of a young maiden; who was readily conceived to be the Princess of the country. The palanquin was wreathed with vines and flowers, and gay streamers of stained cotton floated above it on every side. The cushions upon which the damsel half reclined, rather than sat, were spread with robes of the same richly dyed material. She was clad in similar stuffs, but of finer quality, and rich fringe depended from her skirts and shoulders. 11cr hair, black as ebony, and glossily bright, floated free, but wa~ woven thick with ropes of pearl; frequent strands of pearl en- circled her neck, falling free upon her bosom. Her sandals ~rere also sown with pearl, and she wore anklets of the same precious decorations. Numerous young girls, tearing baskets.of flowers, and habited like herself followed in her train; and she was attended by goodly bands of spearinen and archers, all richly and picturesquely habited, and equally prepared for action and display. Before her, went several musicians, who blew the conch, shook the rattle, beat the drum, and played upoii a rude sort of syrinx made of reeds, which gave forth a long succession of sweet but melancholy sounds. Others kept pace close besk~e the litter, whose office it was to wave before her huge fans of parti- colored feathers, the plumage of the wil~I birds of the Floridian, gathered from all quarters, and wrought with an art which leaves the modern fan of Europe but little of superiority to boast. In this state, the Spaniards were allowed to behold her pro- gress through the forests for awhile, when she suddenly disap- peared in its deeper recesses with all her train. But her disap- pearance was for a brief space only. Very soon a great canoe, of the largest size and most magnificently decorated, with cush- ions, and canopies, and broad fringes and streamers of richly and variously stained cotton, was seen to emerge 'from the mouth of a creek that ran close beside the promontory on which stood the sylvan temple of Cofachiqui. In this canoe, under the canopy, reclined the princess in the stern, upon a pile of cushions. She page: 408-409[View Page 408-409] 408 VASCONSELOS. was attended by eight beautifi4 girls, only less richly] than herself. Her barge was accompanied, or rather another ~f like dimensions, in which sat the six chieftain had constituted the deputation. A cloud of, can es, of a] filled with warriors, followed after and closed he pro which now, under the impelling strokes of har y rowei made its way to the opposite shore. When arri ed, the princess, unassisted, but followed by all her train, tept fe~ to the land, and the Spaniards were greatly struc by the grace of her movements, the admirable symmet y of hei the beauty and. innocence, as well as intelligent e of he and the picturesque appropriateness of her costu e. D made the most imposing preparations to give her corresi welcome. Her obeisance to the Adelantado.w s full o and dignity; and this made, she se4ed herself on a sort c which her attendant had brought with her for the purpose, De Soto motioned her to the cl~air of state fron which] self had arisen. A long and interesting conference ensued bctw en the* carried on through Philip de Vasconselos, on w om, it v served by more than one, that the fair princes bestow most encouraging smiles, speaking with as mu sweet~ ease and dignity. But the sad face of Philip nev r once ( though the whole conference. He was gentle and res but calm~ subdued, and too melancholy to ndte h w flatt himself were the looks of the beautiful Cassiqiie. But Ji page, noted it as well as others; and he turned away ft sight as if disquieted, and retired iuto the rear, eating] gloomily, beneath the old trees of the forest. Juan Oi former interpreter, too, was among the persons rho thoi princess was quite too gracious in her bearing t a pooi of Portugal, when an Adelantado of the Castili n was and De Soto himself pxore than once looked n with visage, as he beheld the smiles given to Philip, w ich he were properly due only to himself. The confe ence w~ but satisfactory in high degree to the Spaniards At th and when the princess was about to depart, sh rose, winding the strings of pearl from about her n ck, wou] thrown them over that of the interpreter, but e recoil the dangerous honor, and motioned to Dc Soto. ut the* hesitated. "Will not the warrior who speaks of strange t ings in of Co9alla, the Queen, wear the pearls which h ye bee~ her neck ~" bited 1, by who sizes ;sion, soon OUflo' essly gant orm, face, Soto ~tding grace stool, rough him- rties, s ob- 61 th~ ss, as tnged ~ctfu1, ng to a, the Efl the ruseif z, the Kt th~ night sent; oudy ought long, close, d un- have from incess 19 PHILIP IN PAYO2R. "Such gifts, beautiful Co9alla, are only for a great chief. to wear. Jn~ the noble person who sits in the chair of state, y u behold the great chief of Our people. He will be proud to w ar the pearls of the Queen of Cofachiqui." She looked reproachfully at the knight of Portugal, and s ill hesitated, the pearls hanging from her hands. IDe Soto had b- served her movements keenly. He suspected the truth. "What says she, Don Philip 'e" was his stern and sudden qu s- tion to the knight. It was with a blush that Philip felt the necessity of evad~ g, or suppressing, the truth. "The princess would bestow upon the Adelantado the pea Is which she carries in her hands, but fears to violate decoruni. S e would have me bestow them; but I have counselled her t at the honor will be more graciously felt, if she will make the g ft with her own hands." "Thou art right," was the reply of the Adelantado, and he p- proached more closely and bowed his head. Slowly and rel c- tantly still, but obeying the sign made by Don Philip, t e princess cast the heavy strands over the shoulders of the Adel n- tado, who, seizing her hand as she did so, passed a rich gold ri g, with a ruby, over one of her fingers. With this ceremonial, the conference ended. The princess h~d complied with the desires of the Spaniards. Her boats conveyed them across the river; her people brought them provisions; s~ie received them in her village with favor; and, for a season, the~e was nothing but mutual pleasure and gratification among the parties. The Spaniards were delighted with the grace and beau y of the queen, at which they greatly wondered; and she, as w 11 as her people, was equally charmed with the curious strange $ who brought with them so many strange and charming objec s. In particular, she thought long, and dwelt much, to her attendant s, upon the handsome warrior, whose voice was so sweet with n her ears. She likened his speech to that of the 'trick tongue' (t e mock-bird), when it is the season for him to seek out a mate, at d win his favorite by the pleasing of his song. But Philip retired 'to sad, rather than sweet thoughts and cies. That night, as he sat at his evening meal beneath a tr e, with Juan in attendance, he was unusually sad and spiritle s. Juan was very gloomy, too, but made an effort to revive t e spirits of his master. He was curious, too, and he chose for Ws. subject the beautiful queen, who was the topic of universal eul gium among the Spaniards. 18 ear aboutt page: 410-411[View Page 410-411] " Think you, my Lord, that this woman is so ery bea asked the boy. " Woman? Forget you, sirrab, that you ar speak great Princess among her people !" was the shar reply. " Pardon me, Sefior, but I. meant not to off nd ;" a the page with becoming humility--" but-does y Lor her so very beautiful ?" he persisted.. " She is ver-y beautiful, Juan." " That is to say, for a savage Indian ?" " She is one of God's creatures, Juan, and t ere is without its beauties." " But these beauties do not suit the better tas es of a people, Se50or. They are too rude ; and besides these are of the form only ; they lack the corresponden es of ed' and learning, and the charm of accomplishme s, such needful to satisfy the desires of a Christian peopl ."' " Aye, boy ; but if the tastes lack, the virtues ae not There is heart, at least, in the savage rudeness, though lack the artful accomplishments of the refined Eui opean. is no treachery here-no false faith-no base, degi ding p nursed, though they are felt to be vicious, and pra tised b who boast of their higher virtues and their purer astes. . far that there be no accomplishments, -such as tho~ prate they are to be allied with foul lusts, practised i secret, grievous peril of the soul, and in despite of that .very ed of the mind, which teaches the sin, and the shame, nd the i of such practice. Better far, the embrace with the rud simple woman of the Apalachian, than the whited~ sepulcl Christendom, where all is smooth and shining w thout,d loathsomeness and corruption within. I would gather ] head upon the bosom of the simple savage, who~ is inno she knows nothing, than upon hers, who sins with~ all her ledge, and is treacherous to the very faith which she pr and believes. Ah! boy-speak to me no more. Thou knowest into what a gaping wound thou hast thr st thy I ing fingers." The page said no more that night. He stole awy to thb tude of another thicket, and bitterly did he weep tlenight with his-face buried in the long grasses of the plain. s' ered think race r fined e uties nation a are a ting. ~t may here s ions, :hos'e etter f, if t the c tion orror and my t as Sow-. f sses ittle tur- soli- ay,' ti ful?" of a CH A PT ER X XX V I "Dne i non tradir' mi, amc. AT first, nothing could exceed the mutual satisfaction o~ the red men and the Spaniards in their commerce and commu ion. The latter delighted their simple hosts with gifts of curiosity and use, which were at-once new to them .and serviceable. Th~ In- dians, on the other hand, stript their houses and persons, and 4ven their graves, of the pearls which they possessed in great q an- titles, to glut the desires of the strangers. To these gifts were added others which still further aroused the cupidity of oni ad- venturers. Bits of gold and silver were mingled with their spoils, prompting a thousand curious inquiries as to the region whence they came. When told of the provinces of Xualla and Chalaque, where the gold grew, De Soto resolved upon the ex- ploration of these regions also. But he proposed awhile -to re- main where he was; satisfied that he was even now in a worl1 of great mineral treasures. The very appearance of the blufl of Cofachiqui, shining with isinglass and mica, led to dreams of sil- ver ore, which, a few bits found along the shore, seemed gre tly to encourage ;. and while he remained in this neighborhood, he actually undertook the prodigious toll of cutting off an elbor of the river, and turning its water for several miles, in order to lay bare the bed of the stream for the possession of the pree~ ous treasures which were supposed to pave it. The proofs of this great labor, pursued with stern industry and a large bod of workmen, for awhile, are still to be found in the canal, sh wn to this day in these precincts, and which still goes by the nam of the Spanish Cut. But the Adelantado was compelled, tho uh reluctant, to dismiss this pleasant fancy, and abandon the painful labors to which it led, His silver proved to be even less valu- able than lead. It crumbled away at his touch. Better accoi nts reached him from the interior ; accounts which we now know to have been strictly true. Meanwhile, the pleasant relations between the red men nd the white underwent a change. The Spaniards soon bega4 to show the simple natives the sterner aspects of their charade er. Their eager, grasping, despotic temper, began to manifest it elf, as they grew more confident in their position, and more fam'liiar $ (411)- page: 412-413[View Page 412-413] 41~ VA8CON~ELOS. with the people. Violence took the place of kind ~ess. I ton m6od, in mere levity, the intruders usurped t~e posse of t~e savages, defiled their Women, and brutally assailed persons as their pride. ~St~rife followed, and frequent str The ~granaries of the red men lessened under tl~e waste man~s of their visitors, and the beautiful Princes~ herself had been at first so much charmed b~ the pale ~arriors, who still craved to be permitted to love and hon9r-~---heri fe perh ps being much more interested than her ju~gmen she found how difficult it was to keep on terms with a peo avaricious, so tyrannical, and selfish. She looked stcfrnly up Spaniards in general, she looked coldly upon th~ Adela whom an equal inflexibility of will and appetite~ made favored and perpetually exacting. It was upon th~ noble ~reter, only, that she cast always sweet and lo ing gl To him she spoke freely of the respects in which he Spa vexed and troubled her. "They rob and wrong my people; they destroy their fi beat them when they complain, and murder them when th~ sist. It is no longer easy to procure the provision~ which feed so many mouths. My people grow very impatient. chiefs counsel me to expel the intruders; my warriors ~ take up arms against them. Itremains only that J~ give th~ nal, and the shout of war would rise above the foitests, an1 shaft of death. would fly from every thicket. But, I am si noble Philip, as they call thee ;-silent! I feel foi4 my pe and 1 chafe at the insolences of thine. Why am I ~ilent ~ because I would not harm thee: because I would not see depart, Philip." Philip beheld her with a sad and drooping eye. hat a of grief and hopelessness did her tender words and 1 oks rec~ "I am but a leaf in the wind, noble Co9alla; a bu ble ~upo stream; a spent arr9w, whose course through the ir is lo soon as made. Think not of me. Persuade th warrior: forbearance. The Adelantado will, I think, depart s~on from provinces. Better not provoke his anger. He hatl~ a powe which thy people know nothing: to which they musl~ succun strife, or perish. He hath but little reason to remain here ii longer, and will most likely depart ere the coming ~noon! then he patient-keep thy people in patience, and le1~ them I in good supplies of provisions, that we may the sooner leave tIl "But tkoz~ need'st not leave Cofachiqui, Philip. Thou stay here, and dwell in the village of Co~alIa. Jt~ is a Qi aniong her people who implores thee to stay." INSURRECTI0~. an. s'ons heir Lggle. 4 de- ~vho and li~gs, ~~ven the t~do, terl re- shall ovild I the ant, hee ory 11! the t as s to thy of b in 443 Before Philip could reply, his page Juan, with aspect gloomy and anxious, suddenly entered the apartment, and after a hurijed obeisance, said- I "Seflor, your presence is needed without. There is troUble. The Indians are arming and surrounding some of our pe~pie. There have been blows already betWeen them, and there is an- ger of insurrection." "I must see to this I" said Vasconselos. In a f~~w words he conveyed to the Princess what he had, heard from Juan, and hurriedly took his departure. Juan was about to follow, 'when the Princess beckoned him, and throwing a rich .robe of furs u~pon his shoulders, itiotioned him to accept it, in a sweet and gracious manner. But the boy shook the garment from his shoulders, ~and with a single glance, of a strange and almost savage sternnes~,at the noble giver, wheeled about and hastily followed his lord. The Princess was confounded at this treatment. She had~ be- stowed the gift upon the boy as she had beheld his devotio~ to his master. It was a tribute prompted entirely by her regard for the latter. She could not conjecture the meaning of the bo~$, or the dark and savage look which he gave her; and the rejection of her gift, apart from the manner in which the thing was done, ~vas itself an insult. She expressed her wonder, in her own languiige, and hastily summoned her attendants. These had hardly rAade their appearance, when one of her grave and venerable forest- councillors entered also. His brow was full of trouble. 1-Je hurriedly confirmed the report which she had just heard from Vasconselos, of the difficulty between her people and the Spa- niards, and, anxiouS about the resultL she hurried forth also '~ivith the aged chief; in the hope, by her presence, to quiet the aroused passions of her subjects. When Philip de Vasconselos appeared upon the scene of ~om- motion, the conflict seemed inevitable. The red men were arm- mg every where, and gathering to the conflict. They had l~een goaded beyond their endurance, by the brutalities of some off the Spanish rabble, had resented with blows an unprovoked inj ~ry; and, unwillingly restrained so long, by the authority of their queen, it was now apparent that the outbreak would be pr4or- tionately extreme, from I~he enforced authority which had ~uith- erto kept in subjection their usually untameable passions. The warriors had submitted to the presence and the aggression~ of the Spaniards, against their habitual practice, an~ against 1~heir nature. Fierce, proud, always prepared for, and f~nd of, a~r the. conquerors of all the surrounding tribes,~~ho~r should they submit to the insolence of this handful of stran~rers~ whoi~n it page: 414-415[View Page 414-415] 414 VA$C0~SELOS. seemed so easy to destroy? The moment had arrived, for the assertion of their strength and independence! The moment was inauspicious for De Soto. O~ie half forces had been dispatched in different bodies, and directj~i the exploration of the country. Nuno de Tobar was pr fifty miles off; with a select body of forty horses, on the ro Achalaque. Juan de Anasco, with a similar force, was a~v another route. So was Gonzalo Sylvestre; so was Andi Yasconselos, with his Portuguese, and other knights. T mains of the army, with De Soto, at the moment 6f comm were scattered along the river banks, or in the forests, fishi fowling. Unless he could quell the commotion Without ti treme of struggle, without absolute violence, he was in dang being utterly destroyed. The princessof Cofachiq~ii could several thousand warriors into the field. It was under the~ cumstances that the Adelantado hurried forth, as Philip de conselos had done, in order to interpose his person ~ind auti for the prevention of the strife. It was here that he showe resources of a good head and a long experience. To th4 prise equally of his own soldiers and the i~ed men, he sei cudgel and began to belabor the Spaniards, seconded in the ration most heartily by Philip, who had reached the sce ~ season for this proper, if not pleasant exercise. The pri appeared at this juncture, and clapped her hands with a soj girlish delight, which contributed to the success of De S policy. The chiefs and sages went ai pongst their 'I~arriors words of counsel; and the outbreak was quelled almost as as it had taken place. The red men retired to their w hardly satisfied, but subdued, they knew not well in what I ner. The Adelantado escorted the princess to her dwelling, partook of a feast which she had prepared. For the moi harmony seemed restored. l3ut it was a hollow amnesty. T were wounds that rankled on both sides, and refused ~o be he~ Pride was at work equally in the hearts of the Spaniards red men; and passions, of even a worse order, which the arti of both only labored to conceal-.not overcome. That night, the Adelantado called a council of his chief off at his quarters. Philip de Yasconselos was present with rest. "1 have summoned you, Sefiores," said De Soto, "that may confer together as to the policy before us. You have to-day what is the temper of these savages. For some days] we have witnessed a rising spirit of insolence among them. T bring in their maize and beans very reluctantly. With all t CHIEFS. IN C0U ~CIL. last ~ his 5, in ably e to ~ on de re- ion ~ or ex- of mo' cir- ras. ~ity the ~ur- da pe- m ess of Os ith on ds, in- nd ~nt ~re ~d. nd es 415 exertiOnS, we scarcely get an adequate supply, and the return of the several parties, we have sent out, will find too many mouths for our granaries. The princess, herself, no longer looks on~ us with friendly eyes. She treats us coldly; she denies hers~l~ sometimes, when I seek to see her; and there can be no quest~ on that she looks upon our continued presence with dislike. Sp~ak fbrth, Se~orC5; declare your opinions freely, and say what is cfL to us in this condition of our afihirs." there were many speakers, to all of whonkthe remarks of the Ad- chmtado furnished the key-note. All w'ere agreed that the qu en and her subjects were changed in temper towards them; thart it was evident they were regarded no longer as grateful guests, ~u t as burdensome and offensive intruders. But no one sugges~ted the course of action. They all well knew that, while De oto listened patiently to all, he followed no counsel but his own~ or that to which he fully inclined himself. Vasconselos ,alone Was silent. "We woubi hear from Don Philip," said De Soto, with a s lie which had in it something of a sneer. Philip quietly and promptly answered. "There is no question but it is true that these people arc t~ red of us. We have worn out their patience. We have consu~ ed their provisions, occupied their houses, controlled and commanded their labor, enjoyed their hospitality to the full extent of theiil re- 'sources; and in return, have beaten and despoiled their men and women, and shown ourselves very ungrateful for all that they have done with us. For my part; I only wonder that they pave tolerated us so long. The admirable drubbing which your Ex- cellency administered this day to some of the runagates who ~iave turned the hearts of this siniple people against us, was quits as much due to justice as to good policy. It might have been w~ll to have administered a little more of it, and to a score or two of other offenders." "Well, but admitting the truth of all this, Seflor Don Phi ip," responded De Soto, rather impatiently,-" the question is, hat are we to do,-how repair the evii-.--how put ourselves in ecu- rity against such mischance as had so nearly befallen s to- day ?" "The question is an embarrassing one, your Excell ncy, and, perhaps, were better addressed to some of your olde and closer councillors. The solution of it will depi~nd upon yo r ob- jects. Why should we linger here? The silver which we l~oped. to gather from these banks of earth turns out a delusion. The gold, as we learn on every hand, is to be found many l gues ers Ve st page: 416-417[View Page 416-417] 416 VASCONSELOS. above, and in the region of mighty mountains. You hay doned the idea of changing the bed of the stream, since 1 no probability that it will afford a treasure which the babk~ sides do not possess. Wherefore, then, remain in 'a regloE promises nothing, and where we have evidently exhaust hospitality,.with the provisions of its people? 0 us neither food, nor profit, nor security." ur delay c~ "True again, but still not satisfactory. There is a subj~ sides which we need to consider. If we depart from these thus, and while they keep their present mood, we lose among them. They will feel that they have had a sort umph. It will make them insolent. Their runners will pi us where we go; they will disparage our arms and valor will lose us that authority which makes our progress go w question; and we shall have to fight every step of our way.' "We have had to do this already in most cases. .1 country of the .savage this can scarce be otherwise. look only to our arms and courage to carry us through. where this needs not-.where we are received in kindness.~. scarcely wise to force hatred upon the people that welcome first with love. This is what we have been doing. We manacled, maimed, and even burned these people, for sma fences, which, in their ignorance, they have committed. Yet have borne with all, through the kindness of their Queen. cannot endure starvation. We have brought them to this. us leave them in season, before we have made them despei and carry their friendly wishes with us, if we can carry not better. They have yielded to us all their treasures of gold pearls." "Ay, but their favor is already lost. They will send us ward with no good wishes. They will rather send befor tidings of evil which shall prejudice our progress wherever appear. The Princess Cogalla has grown haughty and indiffer Senior Don Philip, to all among us, but yourself." Philip regarded the savage smile upon the countenance of Adelantado, with a quiet, cQld, immovable look. He did attempt to answer. Don Balthazar do Alvaro now took up parole. "I suspect that few will doubt the necessity of our leav this place, your E.xc~llency; and just as few will be prepared deny the danger of which your Excellency speaks, from the n licious and unfriendly reports of these people. We have l~ sufficient proofs. of their growing hostility. The mother of ti Princess keeps aloof from us, and has eluded pursuit and sear4 THE CO ~QUERCR'S POLICY. aban.. ere is nits hich ~ the give t be. ) ople edit 3 tri- cede hey t out 1 the ~ can But *t is Us at ave 1 oi~ t ey ['ey et e; bng nd us e to ut .ng 4? a~l 4~17 The young Indian Chief whom we sent to her with a message, slew himself rather than approach her after he haa been fort~?d- den; and I am sure that we should have lost the favor of the Princess here, but for the spechif regard which possesses her s~ul, in behalf of one ofus. How long this will secure us is a probWm which we shall soon be able to solve, if it be true that the nati'~'es are out of provisions. Now, we are all agreed to depart frod~ia region in which we shall find famine only instead of gold; nd we are agreed also, that we may have to fight our way at every step, and get our provisions only at the end of. our weap ns. Well, with your Excellency's leave, we are in precisely the sa e strait with those great men, Hernan Cortez and Francis Piza ro, and I see not that we can do better than adopt their policy." "What policy ?" quoth the Adelantado. "That of seizing upon the sovereign of the country, and making her a hostage for the good behavior of her people. This P~in- cess of Cofachiqui is in your power. Her people hold her in~ an esteem little short of reverence. Seize her, keep her in ckse custody, under watchful guardianship, and you secure the g~od conduct of her people. You are required now to traverse hun- dreds of miles over which she possesses acknowledged sway: as you pass west, if, you need to do so, you are told that she is closely allied to the great powers of the Apalachian, the Alaba- mous, the Me~hachebe! What follows? The people, in all these places, obey her decrees, bring provisions, bear burdens, submit without blows: The policy of Cortez and Pizarro must be 1~hat of Ilernan do Soto, if he hopes for like success with these heathen savages. It is the only policy for safety." "And I deem it a base and horrid policy, Sefior !" cried Vas- conselos, rising, and speaking with all the warmth of a noble and ingenuous soul, shocked at the cold cruelty and baseness of the counsel given. "0! Don Hernan de Soto, beware how you stain an honorable fame, by the adoption of a policy so shame- ful, so shocking, so dreadfully ungrateful. This young Princess has received you with highest honors, has treated you with unva- rying kindness, has yielded from her. stores all that she possesses. As a Christian gentleman, and loyal cavalier, you cannot follow counsels which shall violate every trusted virtue, every security of feeling and of honor." The brow of Do Soto darkened terribly. "You employ strong language, Don Philip do Vasconse~os; but you may have special reasons for doing so. You, at kast, would seem to owe special favors to this dusky Princess.~~ 18* 417 page: 418-419[View Page 418-419] 41S YASCONSELOS.. The pale cheeks of Philip reddened, but he was silent The Adelantado proceeded: "But our obligations are general only, and shared with 1 the chiefs of my army. You hear how they express themselves , and what they counsel. In great necessities, nice scruples are ~cious impediments, and we may not apply to great embarrassed. tis the principles we submit to when the currents of life flow sm ~thly on as, we would have them, under ordinary laws. I ho 5i the counsel of IDon Balthazar to be the only 'means of esca ~ and progress in this our emergency. It is our necessity, whi~ we cannot escape." "0! say not so, your Excellency-" began Philip d4~ Vas- conselos, but the truncheon of the Adelantado came do4wn heavily upon the table,-and he thundered out-. "We have decided, gentlemen-we are resolved-the c ~inci1 is dissolved, We shall see to these things with early mo fling. Be you each prepared, in armor, to second all my orders." The council dispersed, each to his own quarters, all leavi g the Adelantado, except Don Baithazar, who had other matt ~s to insinuate when he did n9t counsel. Philip de Vasconselos, gr ~ived to the heart, retired to his lowly lodgings, where he sat do#ito his silent supper, of which he scarcely ate, attended by Ju~n in silence. "0! boy, boy 1" he exclaimed, suddenly-" thou little know- est, boy," he proceeded-" b~ft if the heart of woman be ~cu- rably false, that of man is terribly base! If her heart be '~eak as water, his is more hard and unfeeling than the pitiless iock. I am sick, Juan, very sick of all things that live !" And the supper was pushed away; and the knight threw h~m- self on his couch of reeds and brush, under. the roof of his sii~ple Indian lodge which had given him shelter, and he felt to wl~t a base use his ruler had put all the benefits of the simple and finding red men,, and their sweet and lovely sovereign. And Jirlan lay between~ two rustic pillars, in the 4iade, half watching the words of his master all the while. And he drowsed while watch- ing: but Philip slept not. ile could not sleep because of too much thought, and long after midnight he arose, and he mutt9red to himself- "It shall not be! I will prevent this dreadful treachery !'~ And he stole forth even as he spoke, carrying his sword be- ~ea.th his arm, and he made his way, amidst the dim woods, gUided only by the starlight, and certain scattered fires o~ the village1 until h& was lost in the thickets' that lay between the PHILIP'S MAGNANIMITY 419 ~~5~ish encamPm~t and the groundS which environed the abode of the Princess. lie knew not that the only half~sleepiflg Juan, aroused by his exclamation, had started to his feet, ar4d caught up a weapon also~ and was following stealthily upon his footsteps. page: 420-421[View Page 420-421] CIIAPTEI~ XXX Vii. lijo ben "E chi poteva senza vedir-ti La patri~i abbandonnar ~ ARTASERS~ MEANWHILE the Adelantado and his prime minister Don Balthazar de Alvaro, sate late at their private councils, after the rest of the noble Rnight~ and Captains had retired. They had much to discuss and determiA fl~ Which Was not proper to be sub- 'flitted to the common ear. But a portion only of this confe.. 2rence properly concerns our drama, it Was at the close of their discourse that De Soto gave it in charge to Don Baithazar, to arrest the Princess and put her under safeguard. "There need be no violence, Setior Baithazar, if your Proceed.. ings are prompt and secret. All outward forms of respect must be maintained We must only see th See to it by sunrise." at she does not escape. "Better an hour or two before," was the answer of the Don. "The Indians may be put on the alert by sunrise." "What! you do not suspect Don Philip ?" "lie is a favorite with the Princess" "But I should think her no great favorite with him, lie seems to treat her with great reserve, if. not coldness." "Reserve is apt to be only a prudent masking of the pas- Sions." But would he dare to play us false !" "Ah! this would scarcely be considered a treachery; or only such as were becoming in a good knight. We can, at all events, better guard against than punish such a treachery." "Ay, by the holy cross, but I should punish such a treachery, were the offender the best knight in £'hristendom~~ "Verily, and I should hark on, and say well done, your Ex- cellency; but still I repeat, better in this case prevent, than have to punish such treachery. In brief; the Princess must not be allowed to escape. Were she to do so, we should fare badly in Our future progress throu h her s. With your Excel- lency's leave ~h dominion day." I will make e arrest before the dawn of another "It is as you please. You are no doubt right in the precaw * (420) In TUE ABODE OF COCALLA. 421 tion; though, let me find this Knight of Portugal playing~ me false, and -" I The threat was unspoken, or was sufficiently expressed is-i the angry gesture, and the heavy stroke with which, with clenched fist, he smote the rude table at which the parties were s~ated. In a little while after this, Don Balthazar took his leave. lie proceeded almost instantly to collect a select body 4~f his followers, all armed, for the capture of the Princess Co9alla. This labor occupied some time. He had to move with al~ pre- cautions, rout up soldiers who were sleeping, and hunt up others who, were scattered; and this brought him to a tolerably lat~ hour in the night. By that time Philip de Vasconselos had already proceeded on his generous mission, of arousing the Princ4ss to the necessity of flight, and ere Don Balthazar had set his little squ~d in motion: but the latter was not delayed much longer. Still, the Portuguese Knight is in season for his object, if there should occur no embarrassments. It was no small one, however, that of finding access 1~o the Princess. She occupied a centre mansion, rude enough fo~ roy- alty, so far as we refer to the agencies of art, but a most royal abode if we look only to the natural accessories. That great home of forest oaks, and hickories, and walnuts, towering ~asses of wood and shrubbery-a mighty colonnade of gigantic forms, conducting through numerous airy avenues to the lowly mansion of logs, surrounded by a shady roof of thatched poles,-a~ am- ple verandah of green, surrounding the habitation, which nestled in the great shelter of the ancient forest-was an abode or an Emperor. In this verandah slept a score or'more of wa~'riors always ready, armed with feathered shaft, and flint-headed spear, and obsidian bludgeon, stone tomahawk and knife of flint No Emperor ever possessed subjects more faithful and devote& The space of forest surrounding the abode of the Princess was filled up with scattered parties of other warriors, who slept b neath the trees when the weather was fair, and who kept watch from hidden huts, when the storm descended. They were as vigilant as faithful. Hardly had Philip de Vasconselos entered the tabooed pre- cincts, when a dozen spears were at his breast. "Lead me to your queen," he said in calm, but commanding accents-~-~" she is in danger. I must see her." A brief and rapid consultation ensued among the forest watch- ers. The result was favorable to the wishes of the knight, sim-, ply as all knew him to be the favorite of Co9alla. l~ e was scarcely a less favorite among her people. He was conducted page: 422-423[View Page 422-423] 422 VASCON~SELOS silently through the green glad~g, and amidst the dark avenues of thicket; the boy Juan stealthily and closely following, Unnoticed by Philip, and permitted by the red men, as a matter of course a~ he Was the attendant of the master. When they reached th~ lodge, a conch, which hung from one of the pillars of the veran.. Was sounded by One of the watchers at the porch. A door opened~ and a Whispered conversation ensued between the guard and some One within. A brief Space, and Philip was adirlitted to an antechamber a great hall, indeed, at bue side of which stood a maiden with a blazing torch. Juar~ remained in waiting with.. out the verandah, anxious to press forward, and trembling with anxiety, yet dreading what he should behold. But, for awhile, his courage failed him, leaving his anxiety unrepressed But a few moments had elapsed, a~er 's entrance into the hall, Philip when the princess made her appearance She was clad simple white cotton garden~5 hastily caught up. It needed little time or effort to adjust the costume of the native prin- cess. She was followed by a group of damsels, and one or two matrons. In a few moments after, several old men made their appearance~ from contiguous dormitories. There was a joyous eagerness in the face of the brigh~eye~ Co9alla, as she looked upon the knight. "Philip I" She had learned to call his name very prettily2.. "Philip !" and the rest she spoke in her own language, taking his hand frankly as she spoke. "What would the Voice of the Spaniard with Co~alla? It is not the hour of council. The bird that sings by day, sleeps in the darkness. The war~ sle nor eps, with the spear beneath his arm. Why comes Philip to me now? Wouhf he make his home with the red warriors of the forest? Ph ip shall be a chief for Cozalla" "It is not for that I come, noble Co~alla. But there is danger for the princess. My people have said Co9alla must be ours! She must march with Our army to the great mountains She must be the hostage for her people. She must fbllow the path as we mark it out for her footsteps. Let Co9alla fly to the great thickets and escape from captivity." "Does the Spanish chief say th the Queen of Was the indignant answer. isof Cofachiqui "The Spanish chiefs have so spoken !" ~ 'T~L vvnat! .alieysee not my warriors? They know not their valor their skill, their numbers and the fatal weapons which they carry.' the mbers "Neither nu nor weapons will avail against the arms of COUNSELS 01' FIGHT. 423 "ha! say'st thou! Thou shalt see." And she whispered to her attendants, one of whom disappeared. "The princess must fly to the deep forests," continued Yas- conselos. "There alone can she be safe from our people." "Fly! and from my home,-whife n~y warriors are around me? Never! never !-And yet-" speaking quickly-" Will Philip g.o with me to my lodge in the great forests.? Will he become a warrior of Cofachiqui? Say, Philip,-wilt thou go with me, and find a lodge among my people-and becon~ea chief-the great chief-the 'well-beloved of Cofachiqui?' And she 'caught his hand eagerly. "Alas !" he said, "I cannot, beautiful Co9alla-my lot is Cast among the Spaniards." "Then will I meet them here. I will gather my wa~'r~or~. They shall fight these Spaniards-they shall fall upon them, and slay them all-all but thee, Philip. Thou shalt be a great chief of Cofachiqui." A group of old men entered at this moment, and were ap- prised of what Vasconselos had reported. They received the in- formation gravely. They heard their princess as she invei~hed loudly against the insolent purpose of the Spaniards. She bade them gather the warriors together, and meet their enemy. She was resolved not to fly, unless-and she turned again to the knight- "Will not Philip go with Co9alla to the great forests her people, and. be a chief of Cofachiqui ?" lie shook his head mournfully. The old chiefs interfered. Philip un erstood all that they spoke, though in low tone~, to their quee . They, too, exhorted her to take the counsel of Vas- conselos, a d seek safety in flight. At the moment, they ~vere unprepared for conflict. Their warriors about the village were few in nu ber, hardly more than necessary for a body-guard of honor for heir sovereign. It required time to call in the warri- ors, and t prepare for such enemies as those with whom they had to dea, and the terrible resources of which were already, in. part, kno i to the chiefs. But the princess grew unreason- able; still recurring, at the close of her speech, to the one bur.. den, in th appeal to Philip-" to find a lodge among, and bea~ chief ove her people-the chief!" The old warriors looked grave. T ey renewed their counsels and expostulations. whey were seco ded by the earnest entreaties of Vasconselos. S~u said to hu~a reproachfully- "Does Philip bid me go from him where I can ~ee hi~n n~ 423 page: 424-425[View Page 424-425] 424 VASCONSELOS. more '~ Does Philip say to Co~alla-let the forests grow be. tween us, so that our eyes shall, never meet again? Ah! Philip !" and she laid her hand, as if with pain, upon her heart. The knight felt very wretched at the wretchedness he was compelled to inflict, and a vague but beguiling thought passed through his -Ahncy for an instant, with the rapidity of an arrow of light. "And why should I not depart with this true-hearted arid in- nocent princess ?-She is young. and beautiful, and powerful, and more than all, pure of thought and feeling. Why should I fol- low in the steps of those who hate, when I am persuaded by those who love ~" But he dismissed the seductive argument with the resolute ex- ertion of his wilL The very thought of love, and of another wo- man, while his heart was still so sore with the most humiliating experience of the sex, was a revolting thought. He hastily ex- pelled it~from his mind. i-" Heed not me," he said, "noble Princess :-I am but an in. sect in thy path. I am nothing." "Thou art every thing, Philip, to Co9alla. My people will honor thee for my sake, and thou shalt be a chief among them. And thou shalp dwell in a lodge with Co9alla, and there shall be no Spaniards in the great forests where we go. Thou shalt be a chief of my people, Philip,-thou shalt be the only chief for Co9alla." And With these words, in the eager impulse of a passion which was no less pure than warm,-the passion of a nature wholly un- sophisticated, no longer able' to restrain her feelings, she threw her arms around the neck of Vasconselos, and laid her head upon his breast.. Her long, dark tresses fell like a shower of starry night over his shoulders. At that moment, and before the knight could recover himself; he felt his arm plucked from behind, and the voice of Juan sounded huskily in his ears. "See you not, Senor, that unless you tear yourself away f~'om her, she will not depart? She will be captured, unless you leave her at once! Already Don Balthazar is; gathering his troop to surround the village of the princess. Fly from her in season, or she is surely taken. These moments are fatally lost." Vasconselos heard, and tenderly but firmly he unwound the arms of the princess from about his neck. At this act, silently performed, she turned, with a sudden' revulsion of feeling, and threw herself on the bosom of one of the matrons, while her sobs sounded distinctly through the apartment. JUAN IS REBUKED. 425 "Now now !" cried Juan, in quick, eager accents, as Philip lingered---- Now is the moment, Seflor. She will fly when you are gone fr m sight." "You ar right, boy, right!" answered the knight. The hand of Juan ea erly grasped that of his superior, and led him away from the a artment and into the woods, without a moment's de- lay. They were within a few paces of the lodging of Vasconse los, when t cy heard a slight blast of a trumpet in the thicket between th m and the abode of the Princess. "It is th signal of Don Balthazar," said Juan hurriedly. "We are safe ;" nd he drew the knight into the l~odge. "But Co alla ~" said Philip. "She has had time enough for escape if she willed it; but me- thinks she ould rather be a captive were Don Philip the jailer, than be the free Princess of all these forests." There wa something of bitterness in the accents of the boy. Philip note it, but his mind was too full of anxiety, in respect to the escap of Oo~alla, to dwell upon minor matters. "Now m y the Saints forbid I" he ejaculated. "This. pr ncess seems very precious to the Senor !" quoth Juan, moodi y. "As nobi ity, and generosity of soul, and true virtue in a wo. man, should ever be to every noble knight !" responded Philip, somewhat s ernly; and Juan shrunk away, as if an arrow 'had pierced him suddenly in the breast; and Vasconselos heard no more words from him that night. The boy had gone aside to bury his fac in the leaves of his couch, and to weep in secret, as was his nigh ly custom and necessity. page: 426-427[View Page 426-427] CHAPTER XXXVIII. "va I se hai cara la vita." Am~x~R. THE effort of Don Philip had been made in vain. The Prin- cess Co~alla gave herself up to a passion of grief; that resisted argument and entreaty. She became fully conscious of her danger (of which even the assurance of' Vasconselos had failed to possess her mind)-of the danger which awaited her, only when it was too late. It was only. when the shrill blast of the Spanish trumpet, speaking in signal to the co-operating squad, and the crash of conflicting weapons, had struck upon her senses, that she consented to make the attempt to escape. But, by this time, the building was entirely surrounded, and she was seized by a group of common soldiers, as she strove to steal away from the rear during the struggle between her warriors and the assail- ants. Her people fought despTerately, even the old chiefs and counsellors, but only to be butchered. The dawn saw her vil- lage smoking with blood and herself a captive. The Princess was from this moment kept under close restraint, well watched and guarded, but treated with forbearance, if not with kindness. She was allowed a litter to be borne upon the shoulders of her own people, when she was indisposed to walk. The Adelantado, for awhile, paid her a morning visit, as Cortez had done to Montezuma, in which he maintained all the most deferential externals. She did not reproach, nor entreat; but from the moment when she became a captive, she habited her- self in the stern reserve of character so peculiar to the red men of America, and haughtily refused communion with her treach- erous and ungrateful guest. But her captivity disarmed her people. They dared not rebel against the authority whose sim- ple decree might destroy the head of the nation. 'They submit- ted every where-submitted as Tamenes, or porters, to bear the.. luggage of the army, and brought in provisions throughout the country, wherever the Spaniards came or sent. * The army was set in motion soon after the arrest of the Princess,' and the young and noble Co~alla was borne along with it, unresist- ing, as ~recklessly as the tides of ocean bear away upon their dis- cordant billows, th&beautif'ul and innocent flower which the tem- (426) pest has flung conducted up of glorious 5( sham, in Geo northern par' waters of the wherever it c ga, the Oosl country as th submission of vity, the bett sionally, De ~ gold nd silv4 It as whil Villa os and of Chi ca, thai thirty days, of wh ch was influe ced by Spani rds wit outc seof the p ssions ( and t ey mac numb ~r of th had n t been Tamenes. ~I2 to all the sen~ Cassique of ~ of* a captive~ Wild was the victims, and their anger. slaughtering It was at I themselves m still a ca~ti'~ usual, attemi the guardian~ Her follower: drink at a spi had taken ad 1 busily engag~ Positions as w~ game. Sud COCALLA ESCAPES. 42T pon them from the shores. In this manner was she he Savannah to its sources, passing into that region enery which we now find in the county of Haber- gia. Pursuing a direct western course across the s of that State, the expedition reached the head Coosa. From town to town-still submitted to me-the Spanish army proceeded to the Conasau- anaula, and other streams. They explored the ey went, lodged in the villages, and secured the the chiefs; some of whom they also kept in capti- r to secure the obedience of their people. Occa.- oto sent out detachments, right and left, in quest of r. * two of these detachments, under the knights, Silver, had gone forth to explore the mountains the Spanish army rested for a space of more than t a populous Indian town, called ~hiaha, the chief a cousin of our Princess of Cofachiqui. This chief, the situation of his kinswoman, had received the a seeming good-will, which left them wholly with- omplaint. But, with the rest from their fatigue, f the invaders passed beyond all ordinary limits, e a formal demand upon the Cassique for a certain e young women of the nation. Hitherto, the men denied to serve the Spaniards, in the capacity of he demand for women, implied a reckless disregard Abilities of the people; and, in a single night, the hiaha, who was also held somewhat in the position found himself abandoned by all his followers. rage of the Spaniards at the flight of their destined am were all the efforts of the Cassiquc to propitiate They ravaged his country, with fire and sword, nd burning without mercy. his moment, and while the invaders were showing ost licentious and reckless, that the Princess Co~alla, e, and still watched, though more carelessly than ted to make her escape. She had been confided to hip of two soldiers, Pedro Martin, and Gil Torres. had laid down her litter, and she had descended to ing by the wayside. The two soldiers, meanwhile, vantage of the pause to produce their dice, and were A in perilling some of their pearls and other acqui- L5 the universal practice, upon the hazards of the lenly, they missed the Princess and her followers. page: 428-429[View Page 428-429] 428 VASCONSELO8. They instantly sought, by a vigorous search in the neighboring woods, to repair the consequences of their fault. Unfortunately, they had missed the ca#tive too soon after her flight, to enable her to escape very far. She was found; her followers ~aflantly threw themselves in the path of the pursuers, and armed only with sticks or billets, hastily snatched up in the forest, endeavored to~defend their mistress. But they were immediately butchered. Co9alla, who had continued her flight, was soon overtaken, and violently seized by Pedro Martin. The bold ruffian, goaded by licentious passions, dragged her into the covert, while Gil Torres' stood by, as if keeping sentry. Her cries rang through the woods, and not in vain. They called up a champion in the peril- ous moment. Don Philip de Vasconselos had not lost sight of the beautiful Princess who had so fearlessly shown him how precious he was in her eyes. But he forbore to trespass upon the indulgence which she had sho~vn him, and, with a rare modesty and forbear. ance, a delicacy of consideration, which had few parallels in that day amongst these wild adventurers, he steadily rejected the temptations which were held out to him by the warmth of her affection and the confiding innocence of her nature. He stu- diously forbore her presence, except when specially required to communicate with her by De Soto himself. In fact, there was a policy, as well as propriety, in this forbearance. XTasconselos had discovered that he was watched. Juan, his page, had made some discoveries, to this effect, and had made them known imme- diately to the knight. lie was watched by the creatures of Don Balthazar. This was the amount of the discovery: and there were suspicious circumstances, coupled with the conduct of Juan Ortiz, the interpreter, whose jealousy had been kindled, ~nt the expense of Vasconselos, in consequence of the better knowledge of the Indian tongues which the latter possessed. lie had lost som~e of his authority with 'the Spaniards during the period when the ortuguese knight served wholly as the medium of commu- nication between the red men and the' white. Ortiz possessed, however, a rare natural capacity for the acquisition of language, and, with a strong m6tF~re to goad his industry, in his pride, his mortification, and his love of ease-.for, when not interpreting, he was required to serve in the ranks as a common soldier-he addressed himself to the task of picking up the dialect of the people of the new~ regions into which he passed. He had become to a certain extent successful, so that he was now able to under- stand and conjecture the purport of the' various conversations between the Princess and the knight, whenever they took place W THE PAGE IS JEALOUS. 429 public. On 11 these occasions, Co~alla freely gave vent to her affections, an spoke with Vasconselos as frankly in respect to her love, as I no other ear but his own could comprehend the purport of h r speech. All this matter was reported to Don Baithazar, w 0, by the way, had been repulsed by the Princess in every app oach which he had made to familiarity with her. how Juan, t e Moorish page, had ascertained these facts, may not now be s id, but he had learned enough to set his master on his guard aga iist the subtle Ortiz and other spies employed by his enemy. But though cautious, and avoiding as much as possible all in- tercourse wit the Princess, Vasconselos watched over her safety as ten~~rly a if he returned her affection. He had seen the growing mdi erence of De Soto to the claims and character of the Pr~.ncess, nd he strove, whenever he could do so without provoking su picion, to lighten her bonds and soften her mortifi- cation~. The boy, Juan, was sometimes sent with tributes to Co~alla, with delicacies which she might not else procure; and we may add hat, though he obeyed the knight, he yet did so with some r luctance. More than once he expostulated with Philip upon he risk which he incurred, by his attentions, and strove to ala mu his fears; but he soon found that such sugges- tions only ins ired the knight with audacity. He then ventured to change hi mode of attack, and would speak, with a sneer, about the inc paucity of the red woman to appreciate either the delicacy of' is gifts or his attentions. But to this suggestion, also, the repl of the knight was apt to silence, for awhile, the presumption f the page. "Cease," o e day he said to Juan-i--" cease, boy, to prate of what thou k owest. not. I tell thee that this heathen prin- cess is a mor beautiful soul in my sight, than any that I know of paler blo d. And why shouldst thou, a blackamoor, pre- sume to snee at the complexion which is more akin to that of the Christian han thine own? Go to, for a foolish boy, and say nothing mor in this wise; for verily, sometimes, when thou speakest thus, I am almost tempted to hold thee an enemy to this most gracious yet luckless princess; whofn I hold in such e~teein, boy, and reg rd, that if I had yet a heart to give, or a faith to yield, to wo 'an, I should prefer to trust in her, than to any liv- ing beauty in all Spain or Portugal." Such spee hes were always apt to humble and to silence the page for a se son. The knight no ways withheld his kindnesses and protection from the princess, because of the counsels of the boy. Yet he suffered her not to see that he watched over her; page: 430-431[View Page 430-431] 4~O VASCONSELOS. and now, when the passions of the rude and licentious rufilan Pedro Martin had dragged her into the deep thickets, and she shrieked aloud in her last and worst terrors for a champion to save her, she had little reason to think that the chief whom she loved before all, would suddenly appear to her rescue. Philip de Vasconselos was fortunately at hand. He heard th~ cries of the captive princess. He recognized the voice, lie knew the present licentious moods of the Spaniards. He had denounced, as a terrible crime, that requisition upon the Cassique of Chiaha, which had outraged his people, and driven them away to the shelter of the woods. His instinct instantly conceived the danger of the princess; the neglect and disregard of De Soto tending to encourage the audacity of those who were appointed, to watch over her. He called to Juan, and hurried with sword drawn into the thickets. He was suddenly confronted by Gil Torres. "It is nothing, SeAor Don Philip, but the cries of the heathen woman, the Princess of Cofachiqui, who has been seeking to make escape from us, and whom my comrade, Pedro, has just se- cured." "Stand aside, fellow.-I must see this comrade of thine." Martin raised his lance, and caught the knight by the wrist to detain him. With one blow of his gauntletted fist, Vas~onselos smote him to the earth,-where he lay senseless. Philip hurried into the thicket, where Co9alla still struggled with all her might against the brutal assailant. But she was almost exhausted. She could no longer shriek. She could only oppose. Her long black hair, which swept the ground, was floating dishevelled, her garments were torn, her 'hands w&e bloody. At this periloi(s moment she saw the approach of the knight of Portugal. She knew him at a glance. She could only murmur, "Philip," and her strength failed her. She sank down senseless. At the sight of Vasconselos, the ruffian fled. The knight raised the princess from the ground. "Bring water,-Juan." The boy obeyed, bringing the water in the knight's helmet, which he threw to him for the purpose. He dashed the face of the princess with the cooling sprinkle, lie poured the grateful draught into her lips. She opened her eyes. They lightened with joy. She threw her arms round his neck, and cried- f~ "Philip! 0 Philip !" "You must fly," he said-." fly, Co~alla. Do not waste the precious moments now. It is your only chance. Use it. I will keep off these villains." COCALTuA FREE. 431 He shoo himself free from her, and darted away. She stood mournfully looking at him for a while, then waved her hand to him, and cr ed- "Philip! Philip I" He disappeared in the opposite woods; and she turned away, with claspe~l hands, and moving with slow footsteps, bending form, and a very mournful aspect, murmuring as she went, the one word" ~Philip." She too was soon buried, out of sight, in the she1terii~g bosom of the mighty forest. 480 page: 432-433[View Page 432-433] CHAPTER XXXIX. "There is my pledge! I'll prove it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thoti art in nothing, less Than I have here proclaimed thee." KING LIIAR. WRaE these events were in progress, in and about the precincts of the Indian town of Ohiaha, Hernando de Soto was absent from the place. He had led a portion of his forces in pursuit of the fugitive red men, who had left their village in consequence of the brutal requisition to render u~ their women; and a report of the gathering & a large body of the savages, in a hostile attitude, not far ofi; had aroused all the eager fury of the Spanish govern. or, to pursue and punish them. He had pursued with his * usual energy, but without encountering the subtle enemy, who, when they pleased, could readily cover themselves, in such peu- fect concealment in the deeper forests, that the whole army of the Adelantado could never ferret them out, or bring them to battle. Dc Soto rested his troops, after the fruitless pursuit, in a be~uti- ful wood, about half a day's journey from the town of Chiaha. Here he waited the return of certain of his officers, whom he had sent on exploring journeys higher up the country. Nuno de Tobar was thus absent with twenty lances: Andres de Vascon. selos had been sent forward with hi& 'ortuguese, to feel his way along the banks of the Coosaw, and to prepare for the~ coining of the army. There were a few other leaders of the Spanish host, who, like these, might have had sympathies with Philip de Vasconselos, who were also most inopportunely absent.. There was probably some design and management in an arrangement, which, at this juncture, removed from the neighborhood the few persons who might have resisted the perpetration of a cruel wrong, and brought back the moods of Dc Soto to such a condition, as would, at least, have tempered the seventies which he might else suppose were required byjustice. The star of Don Balthazar de Alvaro was, at this moment, completely in the ascendant. He had been left in charge of the village of Chiaha, when Dc Soto undertook the pursuit of the fugitive Indians. It was his task to assign the guards to the Princess of Cofachiqui; to regulate and control, in fact, all the operations within his command, according to his own discretion. (432) MALICE GI~OW~ EXULTANT. 4~3 It was no~ the purpose of De Soto to return to the village, but to proceed Qnward, following the footsteps of the pioneer force of Ai~dre5 de Vasconselos to the country of the Alabamas. With thi~ large discretion in his hands, Don Baithazar was not the person to forego the gratification of any of his passions~ The person~ whom he had appointed to take charge of the prin- cess Co9a11a~ were his own creatures, the most despicable of the common soldiers of his division. Don Baithazar had been scorned by the princess. He knew the wild licentiousness which. at this time possessed the army. He knew the character of those to whose tender mercies he entrusted her. He might have pre- dicted the event, if he did not,-perhaps he anticipated it; perhaps he anticipated other fruits from the epidemic of license which prevailed among the soldiers. It is not improbable that when he was found by the ruffian, Pedro, who fled from the rapier of Don Philip, conveniently in waiting in a lonely lodge on the edge of the forest, that he himself had prompted his myrmidons to their brutality, and that he had Qther passions. to gratify, not less wild and intense than that of revenge. Great was the wrath of Don Balthazar when Pedro Martin made his report. Gil Torres, with a bloody sconce, made his appearance soon after, which confirmed it. The report was such that, by their own showing, no good Christians could have been more innocent of vil, or virtuously set upon doing good. !The subordinates saved their superior from much of the necessity of invention; and w ere they failed as artists, he supplied the de- fects in their case. They were prepared to affirm it with due solemnities; and, hus armed, Don Baithazar smote one hand with the other, an exclaimed exultingly,- "Now, SeAor on Philip, I have thee at extremity. Thou canst not escape m now." He dismissed th two soldiers. He called up Juan Ortiz, the interpreter, to a pr vate conference. He had secured the agency of this simple fello , who was naturally hostile to the Potuguese knight, as the latte had so often superseded him in that employ- ment, from which e derived so much of his importance with the army. Don Balth zar had tutored Ortiz already to his purposes, while persuading t e interpreter that they were entirely his own. He, too, had certain evidence to give in respect to the treason of Don Philip-for this w' s the serious charge which Don Balthazar was preparing to brin against our knight of Portugal. For some time he had been oncocting his schemes in secret. Like some great spider, lurki g unseen in obscure corner, he had spread forth his numerous silent, unsuspecteA snares, like flue threads, 19 page: 434-435[View Page 434-435] 484 VASCON$EfJOS. 435 PARTING OF KNIGHT AND PAGE. to be wrought by patient malice into meshes, so strong as to bind utterly the unwary victim. Hi~ meshes were now complete. The victim was in the toils, and he had now only to proceed to destroy him at his leisure. Furious that the Princess Co~aIla should escape, he was yet delighted that the event afforded him evidence so conclusive against Vasconselos. He prepared his despatches with all care to De Soto. He set forth the facts in the case, and his inferences. He suggested the course of procedure. He knew but too well in what way to act upon the enormouss self-esteem of the Ade. lantado, already sufficiently proWoked with Don Philip, and by what subtle artifices of suggestion to open to his eyes the most vast and various suspicions of the guilt of the man he sought to destroy. Yet all this, though done boldly, was done adroitly, so that De Soto never fancied himself taught or counselled; and, acting promptly, on the very suggestions given by Don Baitha- zar, he yet fancied, all the while, that he was the master of his own purposes. He sent hack instant dispatches in reply to those which he received. It followed that, at midnight, Philip de Vasconselos was summoned, in most respectful terms, to the quarters of Don Balthazar. He prepared at once to obey. Juan, the page, would have followed him; but the summons of the Don had entreated him to a secret conference, and Philip gave the boy in charge of his lodge, and commanded him to remain where he was, awaiting his return. The quarters of Don Baithazar might have been half a mile from those of Philip; but the latter tobk horse to compass the interval. lie went in armor also. Such was the practice; and, in seasons of excitement, and with doubtful friends around them, such was the proper policy. But Philip was not at his ease. His instincts taught him to dread treachery. He knew Don Balthazar too well to put faith in his smooth accents. He knew that the latter must hate, and would strive to destroy him. Juan, the page, had like instincts, and an even better knowledge of the man than had his master. He plucked the knight by his sleeve, and whispered- "Beware, Seflor :-this summons-this man Philip laid his hand gently on the boy's mouth, and said, also in a whisper- "The good knight must be bold, ~Juan, and being so,~ m~ust al- ways beware that he is not too bold. But to caution him at one ur of a danger which he must confront, by force of duty, at 'il hours, is surely an idle lesson. Hear me, boy :-do thou beware that thouneglectest not the duty which I now assign thee. I have, for a long hile, meditated to give thee a solemn charge, in anticipation of his danger of death which walks ever, side by side, with the sol ier. There are three letters, sealed with my signet, and fAde in silk, which you will find in the little lea- them case with w ich I travel. When I have left thee to-night, detach them from this case, and take them into thy own keeping. They are address , one of them, to my mother, in Portugal another to my brother Andres; and a third to a lady of the island of Cuba, whose name-but thou wilt read it on the missive. These t ou shalt, if thou survives me, in good faith deliver. All oth papers in the case shalt thou this very night destroy, as soon a I have left thee, and thou find'st thyself alone. Swear to me, boy on the Holy Cross, that thou wilt do these things which I hay bidden !" The knight held up the cross hinted sword as he spoke, and the boy, with a convu sive emotion, seized and kissed it. Then, with a sob, he cried- "Oh! Senior D n Philip, suffer that I follow thee now-that I go with thee to his meeting with thy enemy." "Not so: but will send thee word how and when to follow, should I not retur before noon to-morrow. For this night, boy, farewell !" And he laid h s hand gently on Juan's shoulder, and turned off a moment aft r. But the boy caught the hand quickly in his grasp, pressed it fervently in both of his own, then released it, and turned a / ay. The knight looked at the Moor with al- most loving eyes. "Verily," he murmured to himself-" verily, this boy hath a noble heart and ~oul, and he is very loving; and with ~ucli a depth of feeling a is seldom witnessed at his years. Where the heart growth ~o fast, and drinks in so much, it is rarely destined for long ife. Life lingers only with the hard, and the cold, and those wh are economical with the affections. The cold toad, it is said, re aineth-it cannot be said that he liveth-for a full thousand ye rs, locked up in stone." Thus musing, t e knight left the lodge, and joined the young Lieutenant who hr ught the message from Don Balthazar, and who awaited him a the entrance. They mounted horse instantly, and went towards he village; but scarcely had they entered the narrow streets, wh n Vasconselos found himself surrounded by a score or two of h se, from the centre of whom advanced a Cap- tain, who said, in tern accents- "Seflor Don hilip de Vasconselos, some time of Elvas in Portugal, and now in the service of His Most Catholic Majesty, A35 page: 436-437[View Page 436-437] 436 VASCONSELOB. the King of Spain, &c., I arrest thee, by orders of his Excel. lency, Don Hernando de Soto, Governor of Cuba, and Adelan. tado of Florida, under a charge of High Treason. Yield thy sword!" !" exclaimed Don Philip indignantly. "Treason! Where is my accuser ?" "Thou shalt see and hear all in clue season! At present, I am commanded to bring thee, without speech with any one, to the presence of the Adelantado." Resistance,-even if Don Philip had been disposed to offer any-would have been perfectly idle. He submitted with quiet dignity. "Be it so !" he answered, quietly yielding his sword-." con- duct me to the Adelantado." The party set off that very instant. The knight of Portugal did not once see Don Balthazar until they met in the presence of De Soto. The wily spider had only waited to see Vascon- selos fairly in the clutches of the party placed in waiting for his arrest, when he set off; with another party o1~' horse, bringing up the rear, and watchful that the captive should find no means of escape. It was nearly noon of the next day when they reached the army. It was encamped on a pleasant plain, overshadowed every where with great trees of the forest. De Soto, with pride and passion equally roused, was impatiently waiting for the arrival of the offender. No delay was allowed him; and the pre- paration for his trial had been made before he came. A rude scaffolding, upon which the chair of state had been placed in readiness, had been raised for the Adelantado. His chief knights were grouped immediately around him. The troops, horse and foot, including the parties just arrived,-all under arms,-were dispersed so as to form ~a half-circle about the dais, in which every thing ~could be heard and seen by the meanest soldier. There they stood, in grim array, with burnished weapons, in mail and -escaupil, banner and banneret flying, and the gorgeous flag of Spain floating in the midst. De Soto was not the person to omit any of the blazonry and pageantry, the state and cere- monial, which belonged to his authority. Seated in his chair of state, surrounded by his knights, he ordered that the prisoner should be brought before him. Philip de Yasconselos, conducted by his guards into the circle, ~ibated nothing of his dignity or noble firmness, as he stood be- fore the presence in which he could see none but enemies. He looked around for the few persons whose sympathies and sum TR13~A8O~ 487 port he might hav~3 hoped for, had they been at hand. Where wa~ Nuno de Tob~ir at that moment ~ Where was his brother, Andres ~ In thei~ absence, he readily divined that no precau- tions had been onclitted by his enemies, for effecting their object. lie si~W that his clkom was written. This conviction, which threw him so completely upon God and his own soul, rais A him, with a strength of will and character, to face the event, w atever it might be. "I am here, nder bonds, as a criminal, Don Hernan de Soto," spoke Phil p, in clear, manly tones, his eye fixed brightly the while upon th face of the Adelantado :-~-" I demand to know of what I am acc sed, and that my accuser shall be set before me!" "Thou shalt ave thy wish, Philip de Vasconselos. The charge against the is that of high treason to His Catholic Majesty, with whom thou hast taken service.~~ "I brand the c arge with falsehood. I am no traitor." "That ~hall we see. Thou shalt behold and see thy accusers, and the ~itnesseS shall be brought before thee who shall prove thy offen~e." Vascoi~selos f lded his arms patiently, a d looked coldly around t~ie asse bly, while Hernan de S to, who did not think amiss of hi own eloquence, descanted in a sort of general speech upon the affairs and necessities of the army; the duties of a good knight, and faithful~ubject; the hig trusts and con- fidence which ha been given to the knight of ortugal, and the imperative neces ity for condign punishment, erever trusts had been forfeited, ai the trusted person had sho n himself unfaith- ful. Philip smil d scornfully, in a bitter moo , as he listened to certain portions f the speech; and the cheek of De Soto red- dened as he notic d the expression. His cons ience smote him, though not suffi iently, when he reflected u on the notorious slight to which t e knight of Portugal had be n subjected from the beginning, an how small had been the tru t and favor shown him. His speech ov r, he proceeded to his speci nations under it. "Thou art c arged, Philip de Yasconse os, by the noble Senior, Don Bal hazar de Alvaro, with havin betrayed to the Princess of Cof chiqui the secret councils f the conference, when thou wast resent as a member, and wI n it was resolved that the safety ~ the army required that w should take that person into cbs custody. It is alleged that thou didst betray that conference t the Princess, in order to p rsuade her to es- cape from our h nds." page: 438-439[View Page 438-439] 488 YASOO~WSELOS. "It is true that I did so endeavor to persuade the Princess Co~alla to escape, and in this was I faithful to my oath of chival. ry. I were no true knight to have kept silence, when so gross a wrong was meditated against that gentle and lovely young Prin. cess. But the council knew my sentiments in reference to that measure. I did not conceal what I thought, that it was a Iase- ness which would forever dishonor the Spanish name." "That gave thee no right to betray the councils to which thou wert admitted on the implied condition of thy secrecy. Thy pledged to us- an faith wa , d the crime, if crime there were, fell upon our heads, not thine. Thou hast admitted the charge, which we should ele establish against thee by no less than three repu- table witnesses." "It is admitted," said the knight. "It is next charged that thou didst recently set upon the two soldiers appointed for the safe keeping of the prilicess, didst as- sault them wi1th naked, weapons, didst wound one of them, and put in mortal fear the other, and didst succeed in wresting this princess from their keeping, so that she has made full escape from our care and custody, thus depriving this army of all the benefits which grew naturally out of our charge of her person.~~ "I found the two ruffianly soldiers to whom the princess had been confided, setting upon her with brutal violence and foul pur- pose, and as true knight and gentleman, I did so rescue her from their keeping. I had no purpose~ this, but the safety and inno- cence of the noble woman." The two soldiers were brought forward, and loudly protested their innocence, making affirmation'on the Holy Evangel. ~' Thou hear'st ?" said De Soto. "1 hear, SeAor. Is it Ijo be allowed to these wretches, thus charged with a heinous cri r4 e, to acquit themselves by their own asseverations ~" "It is thy offence, Sefior, and not theirs, which is now before this tribunal." Such was t1~e interposition of Don Balthazar. "And it is in answer to tI~e charge against me, that I do accuse these ruffians and acquit myself." "Were such privilege a~varded to the criminal, there would be no witness to be found innocent," replied De Soto. "Thou dost not deny the rescue of the princess from her keepers '?" " I glory in the act too greatly to deny it," was the answer. am proud of the i~ioble service." " ila! We shall see how far thy exultation in the deed will suffice to acquit thee ~f its penalties! Hear further: "It is charged that~ thou hast been a wooer to this princess for TH her love; that tI ing to the fashion $pite of all Christ and thou hast acc lachian, which th Spain, to which ~ "The charge is "There shall b charges. It is all -that on a certain upon asan Interp be required to~ br~ didst counsel he tell her that, by t try, or so enfeeb] should then be th "The charge is made, seeing thai the language of t were spoken betx "That will not a keen ear and q~ of this language, scan thy proceed boldly that such "He hath mis "from a too imp truth, was spoke a people to be st to bring in thei~ princess's own found, and, woul they fed upon th to the Spaniards "Ha! in pain "It was but a "A threat! II to thee, didst th "Of what ne "But we sho of thy argunien lemuly, whether Heathen, the Ch eager to feed or LION BAITED BY THE CL~RS. e tie of marriage exists betw i hmong the heathen Apalac ian rites; and that she hath ~pted the gift, of the whole e ~u mean'st to hold adverse y sworn faith is strictly held.' no less false than foolish 1" proof to confound thee! T ged-~and this shall be pro i occasion, when at Cofachiqui eter to demand of the prince ng in supplies of maize and not to comply with our de is means, she could starve u us that the very children masters over us in fight." wholly false! By whom co no one of the army but e people ~ Who, then, coul een the princess and myself avail thee! Our interpreted ick comprehension; and so hat he hath been enabled 4 ings, and detect thy treache as thy speech to the princes understood me," replied the rfect knowledge of what he was to the effect that the rved o~.~t, because of the refu supplies-for such had beei eech-and that they would never suffer themselves to s children of the tribe. I wa hen I spoke to the princess.' t ng them as heathen cannibal threat, your Excellency." 3 it wherefore, when this princ u not repeat her language to ~ ! the provisions were brou d have been allowed to jud t , Seflor. It were a matter we should suffer thee to d stian warriors of Castile, as human flesh." 489 ~en thee, accord- lans, and in de- pledged to thee, pire of the Apa- to the crown of ere are yet other ~d by Juan Ortiz, thou wast called s that her people )eans; that thou .an~1s; and didst out of the coun- f the Apalachian Id such charge be .yself understood say what words I' Juan Ortiz, hath ~r hath he learned ~ follow thee, and ~ies. He asserts night of Portugal, heard. What, in paniards were not ;al of the red men the nature of the seize them where arve, even though s only too faithful 2" ~ss spoke in threats us ~e of the propriety ~ o be weighed so- epict, even to the o many cannibals, page: 440-441[View Page 440-441] "If your Excellency is pleased to speak of this bold threat with so much solemnity, I can make no answer to thee." "Ay, thou need'st not! Thou hast made answer sufficient for thy ruin. Thou hast thyself admitted the charges which would - condemn thee; a41 if thou did it not, here are the witnesses who should prove thy treachery. ilast thou any who can say aught in thy defence ?" "None, Sefior; since I see that the few gentlemen who have best knowledge of my nature and performances, are not in this assembly; it will be for those to answer to their consciences, by whom they hate been sent away at this juncture." "Does the Knio' t of Portugal impute i% me a wrong ?-for it was I by whom th~y were sent away, and by the Holy Cross, I swear that when 'they were thus sent away, I had no thought that thou, or any c~ther, should be arraigned for trial, on these, or any other charg~s." "Your Excellen~y is, no doubt, free of offence in this matter, but there is one pem~son, at least, fo~ whom truth could never say so muchand who hath wrought thisA scheme for my ruin. There is one proof that I ~nmght offer-one witness-" and he paused. De Soto quickly said-.-.. "Speak, Sefior, arid he shall be brought. I wi them all chance of speech and hearing." 11 gladly accord "Nay, Seflor, I know not that it will need or avail. It was of my page, the boy Jtman, that I had thought. He knows best of my acts and motive~. Besides, he hath gathered even more of this language of the 'Apalachian, than this man, Qrtiz, could pos- sibly have done;" "The boy is a slave, your Excellency-a wretched Moor," inter- posed Don Balthazai~; "he can give no evidence in a case affect- ing both Christian knights and Castilian gentlemen." "But I would, ne'~rertheless, have had him h&re, Sefior Don Balthazar," answered De Soto, with some asperity in his accents. "Why was he not brought ?" "It was not known, your Excellency, that his presence would be required as a wjtmr~ss, or for any other purpose. The Sefior Don Philip did not signify any wish upon the subject." "And how should ~ have done so, your Excellency," answered Philip, with a scornf4 look at Don Baithazar, though addressing De Soto, "when I w~s not suffered to suspect the strait in which I stood-when. I was ~eguiled from my lodgings, upon false pre- - fences of kindness arid counsel, and seized without warning or summons, by a troop of cavalry at midnight? I saw not the boy aftermy arrest, ~nd until the moment when I met with him 44g 440 YASCONSE~os. 441 CHA LENGE TO SINGLE COMB T.. here, Don Balthaz r de Alvaro did not permit that hinr." "I trust, Seflor, said De Soto to Don Bait azar hast not proceeded in any way in this matter u bec% knight." "It were sorry olicy, your Excellency," wa thc "to give warning o the traitor of your purpose to till the cord is rea y." "Surely there i no hardship in such proce din pected person is n t to be suffered chances of e cap the knight of Po tugal was in thy hands, th u s seen that he lack d no proper agency in ma ing Not that this Moo ish boy could serve thee, S ~ox deuce could not ake weight against the bet er Christian witness " "And I know n t that he could say any t ing lency, in my beha f. He could only assevera e I rance of all reach ry on the part of Philip de as. as would discredit knight or gentleman. I have no God and the bless d Saviour. To them I make a my enemy. But claim the privilege of com at lency, with my ac ser, my guilt or my innoce ce issue of the coin at. I throw down my ga mt defiance, and chall uge to the field of battle, is mine, with lance r sword, and battle-axe an any other weapo~ that he pleases, the foul, bs and perjured knigl~t, Do Baithazar do Alvaro a~ done me cruel wrc~ng, a d has sought, by false s am witnesses, to do m~ to d ath, and to stain with s an that has always hitherto een pure and without isl is my glove! Yo r Ex ellen~y will not deny e truth according to he la a of a~ms. I claim the a, He advanced c imly and firmly as he spo e, down his glove at he fee of Don Balthazar, exc air but still loud enou h to o heard by others tha .1 dressed- "Lift it, Seflor, if tho wouldst not be know f( as I know thee for the vllain and the knave 1" I should see "that thou ming a true cool reply, tie his hands g. The sus- e; but when houldst have his defence. ~, for his evi- testimony of* your Excel- us own igno- ~onselos, such witnesses but ppeal against your Excel- to rest on the let in mortal body against igger, or with use, dishonest, one who has Jers, suborned ae a scutcheon ionor. There to assert my ger of battle !" and throwing ned, sotto voce, Lhe person ad- )r the dastard, - 441 page: 442-443[View Page 442-443] CHAPTER XL. "Take this life And cancel these cold bonds.' cY~EBEUKL THERE was a. markedd and lively sensation throughout the assembly. The savage and mercenary soldiers of that day were not wholly insensi~Ae to the courage of a truly noble soul, and, little loving, as tl~ey were, of the foreigners who had mortified their pride, on sucti frequent occasions, the Castilians were coin. polled to acknowledge how admirable, calm, fearless and chival. rous was the wholc~ bearing of Philip de Vasconselos. But Don Baltha~ar did. not lift the glove. There might have been seen a red sikifusion coloring suddenly his swarthy cheeks as he heard the epithets applied by the knight of Portugal; but, otherwise, he was apparently unmoved. He answered with a coQl and quiet indifference, which betrayed the long and hard training of his political life. "Nay, Sefor, thy glove is no longer such as an honorable knight and gentle~nan may lift without stain upon his fingers. Thou hast not the r~ght to claim the ordeal of battle. This would be thy right were I ~he accuser, and the only witness against thee! Then mightst ~thou claim to put thy body as thy word against mine, and cry upor~ God to defend the right! But such is not now the case. Thy crimes, partially confessed by thyseli are also proven by st~ndry Christian witnesses, sworn on Holy Evangel. I claim the judgment, your Excellency, ".-turning to De Soto,-" upo~i the arch traitor, Philip de Vasconselos, who hath betrayed the ~ounsels and the trusts of His Most Catholic Majesty, given him~in keeping, and hath meditated and devised still further treason~, as hath been shown by sworn witnesses. I claim the judgme~it upon the said traitor, and that he be done to death without delay !" There was a momx~entary start,-a slight recoil on the part of Vasconselos, as he heard the words. It is barely possible that he had not apprehende4l that the malice of his enemies would attain to this extremity; but, if his emotion expressed surprise, it was without fear. He looked on and listened~ without other show of emotion. (~2) "What hast plea for judgment "What should avail for my safel hope, indeed, an~ juncture of affair lice of the base, ful in their sight the eyes that ho no more to say only speak to Ge: "You are in n "And you, S( deem yourself 0 sions, are yet ser thee as fearfully own bitter preju that is passion are thus ever th tures of the co which, taking ad thee to look cob fling, have not thee. They ha over my life an unanimity and pri of mine can now ing to thy sense can oppose neiti doom, and by th er, who has wov without shame Here, now, in th de Soto, I eitt~ tb of Judges, whom sion, or prejudi( meet me before traitor confound cold and cuunin~ over one who k~ well knows, spec heart in this ass hideous loathing The patient CHIVALROUS RESIGNATION thou to say, Philip de Vasco ?" demanded the Adelantad I say, SeAor ?-what could y ~ To endeavor to speak thing from my speech, or ~,-would only Thow me as i ~s they are of the virtues whi I would not seem weak a Ld, or pretend to hold me, di * I am in the power of mm d ~" ~y power, Philip de Yasconsel for," replied the other boldl the powers which control ring the passions of others-p mine enemy, as if thy deli lilies and dislike had made th ~e and proud, and the pride ~ instruments of injustice, a oler and subtler criminal. vantage of thy passionate Ily and even harshly upon been unseen by me, thou ~e triumphed, in this pres ~l honor, as they have trium Ldence. I can in no way oppo enlighten thee. 1i'hou must w of what is justice. I yield to Ler argument nor valor. Bu s arts of that foul and subtle ~n around me these snares a or dishonor. Nor do I pens e last words which I address se for judgment with myself b a no arts can mislead, who e can turn from paths of j God's tribunal! There sha ~d eternally~ who now sits, s ~,exulting in the base conscio tows his baseness, and who c k of him such things as shon ~mbly turn from him with h Ishallsaynomore. Dow'1 mbmission which resigns I 443 iselos, against this I say, that would t all-to seem to ny speech, in this ~norant of' the m~ h are always hate- id foolish even in ~honored! I have enemies. I shall Os.,' ~, "assured as you ~rour will and pas- bssions which make erate will and thy ~e so. The power hat is prejudiced, id the blind crea- The cunning arts ~oods, have, made ie from the begin- h unsuspected by nt consummation,~ hed over thy mag- e them. No words rk thy will, accord- the fate to which I If I perish by thy knave and slander- A meshes, I perish [~ without redress. 0 thy ears, lElernan ifore the Sovereign n no pride, or pas- stice! Thou shalt .t thou behQld that nooth and smiling, ~sness of a triumph uld, this day, as he d make the foulest rrid shudder, and a bh me as thou wilt." self calmly to in. r page: 444-445[View Page 444-445] evitable fate, always wears an aspect of great nobleness. When Philip de Vasconselos was led from the presence of the assembly, he was followed, on all sides, 'by glances of silent admiration and a compelled respects lie was withdrawn, by the guards, while the Adelantado and his council sate in private judgment on his fate. Long was the conference that followed. Do~i Balthazar strenuously urged the doom of death. But De Soto, filled with chivalrous notions, ~Vas not prepared to yield to the malignant suggestion. It is pc~ssible that he somewhat suspected that there was some truth in the charge of malignity and slander which Philip had brought against Don Balthazar. He had long been aware of the dislike which they mutually felt for each other. He said to the latter- "Verily, Don Ba1tl~azar, this knight of Portugal bath bitter thoughts of thee." "When had the criminal other thoughts- of him who declares his crime ?" "But I somewhat fear that thou hast uttermost." pushed this matter to the "Grant it be so, Sefior ;-there is enough, besides, in the con.. fession which he made to suffice for his conviction." "True! True! He bath confessed to the betrayal of our purpose to the princess, and to the charge of assault upon our officers, and her rescue. "These are crimes worthy of death! This is treason! What had Cortez or Pizarro done to ~the knight, or knights, who had rescued Montezuma and the Inca from their guards, and set them free to work th~ ruin of the army and the enterprise ?" "They had been made to taste of the sharp edge of the axe! -.-----But I will not slay this knight of Portugal! He bath done us good service, and there is some rebuke of conscience that I feel, for his too much neglect, and for the cold aspect which I have shown him. Besides, I owe him a life. But for his succor I had probably perished under the savage assault of the fierce Flo- riclian, Vitachuco. I cannot forget these things. I will not take the life of this man !" "What! Wilt thoi~ forgive such treachery? Wilt thou suffer this traitor still to harbor with thee and devise new reasons 'p" "No! th~, army shall be purged of him! nor shall he escape without due punishment. lie is proud! He is a belted knight, and hath won his spurs in Christendom! I will degrade him, according to the proper laws of chivalry, which he holds in such veneration! His shield shall be reversed; his scutcheon shall b~ defaced; his' armor shall be taken from his breast, and shall bebattered into his eyes; his he. rope about his the axe of the with blow and b forest, he shall b lachia, to whom will remember wigwam 1" De Soto havi gument. Don ment at the no yet have greatly the axe. 'Dead Vasconselos had safety of his terr honor so highly The knight of elantado. From pronounced, ever cheeks of the bra' -then was his 5( to find support! judgment, he im~ "Death! De passionate entrees And shudder' himself before r 'him,-who wron and who, alone,' to save him! I the terrible char~ the knight of P gion with its sw( by the Adelanta life! It inured' ever! It was t was the death glory, which the Philip de Vasco knees-he humi axe-for death,- He was den Thcn he rose, ~i 444 be broken before morass; and, with rorn his heels, by ~hall he be driven to a tree of the 61 savages of Apa-. Doubtless, they o some sheltering 444 VASCONSELoS. 445 hapeles~ness; his sword shal met shall be fouled Au the reck, his spurs shall be hewn f cmmon' executioner! Then s iffet from the army, and, tie left to the mercies of these r he hath shown such favor. he service, and take him in g declared his purpose, there ~dthazar, however, though co I rel terrors of the proposed preferred the sharp and sum men tell no tales'-and so the power to speak, so long ble secret. He did not appr s De Soto~ ortugal was once more brou the lips of his haughty judge as we have already heard e cavalier grow pale; then ul thrown back upon itself; Hoarsely, with a cry almo bred for a change of doom! th, rather than such doom. ty. g, he~ knelt-the proud ma an-before the man who ha ed him still ; -but in whos n that world of wilderness, p our day, we should fail ju cter of the doom pronounced rtugal. The fantastic chival rn followers. Such degradat o, was the obliteration of t' o the future. It tainted the e reproach oC all former d f the soul, and of all the h4 spirit of chivalry held most ~ selos succumbed beneath it! ) ed himself as we have seen,- for any doom but this! i~ed-denied with words an b~rn, silent, resolved -and str was no further ar founded for a mo- unishment, would nary judgment of long as Philip de A he feel for the ~ciate the hurts of' ~ht before the Ad-. te heard the doom it. Then did the Id his lips quiver; without being able as he heard the ~s ~this !"-was the 1 knelt-humbling 61 already wronged power he stood, assessed the power tly to appreciate by De Soto upon ry was still a reli- on as was decreed e whole previous ame of fame for-. eds of valor! It pe, and pride, and precious in esteem! He sank upon his he prayed for the look~ of scorn! ng to endure, be- page: 446-447[View Page 446-447] 446 YASOO~SELOS. cause of that denial, and those words and looks of scorn! He arose, erect, and looked coldly on his judges. But there was a terrible glare from his eyes, which made all other eyes look aside! His lips were now compressed, but big drops of blood could be seen slowly to ooze from between them, and to form themselves m beads upon his beard. J4e stood, and for a few moments there was a deep pause in the assembly. Then, at a signal from De Soto, the executioner came forward with his assistants. They passed a halter about his neck. He offered no resistance. He did not even tuyn his glances upon them, when they laid hands upon his shoulder. But as they led him out, he looked steadily at De Soto, and said solemnly: "A Dios!" The words were not spoken by way of farewell. They were in the nature of a citation; and so De Soto understood them; and a sudden palene~s, the shadow of a presentiment, overspread hi~ face. But the emotion passed from his soul. The drums and trumpets sounded. The assembly was broken up, and the army, forming a grand procession, was marched~ at once to the place of execution. And there, the central object of that great array, stern, lofty, helpless, but resigned, stood the noble victim-resolute to sub.. mit, but not wholly able to conceal the terrible emotions which racked his soul! There, bound by the degrading halter to the tree by the hands of the common executioner, he was subjected to all the details of the cruel and malignant judgment, as we have re- ported them. His sword was broken, his shield reversed, its blazonry obliterated, before his eyes! The armor was torn from his person, and battered with blows of a club; his helmet was hurled into a neighboring morass. 'And he saw and was silent, -looking the while steadily upon the Adelantado, with eyes of a deep mysterious solemnity, that spoke for dread and terrible thoughts, as well as sufferings! But when the executkner approached with his axe-when the prisoner was made to lift his feet and place them upon the block, and when, one by one, the golden spurs of knighthood were hewn from his heels by repeated blows, then broke .the groan of agony from his overcharged bosom, and he threw out his powerful arms and grasped the stalwart executioner, even as he had been an infant in his grasp, and hurled him away, staggering, while a howl, rather than a cry, following the groan, seemed sent up to heaven -by way of reproach, for that it looked on, and beheld this ter- rible injustice, while the great eye of the sun peered down from the noon-day skies, as bright and serene as if all below was as becoming in h Vasconselos hu was done! T and the work the sudden i longer suppress A moment lence, and the k by the cord of forest, he look but not unnatu Then De So which we may wheeled into c and, to the sou: from the groun length of rope Vasconselos w forest. The army w renewal of its act consumma see it no more wolf the scaly remorseless h~ growing fainted movement of the great worl depths of the 447 1'HILIF LEFT TO IllS FATE. ~av en's eye as it was beauty 1 4ed away the executioner, bu e spurs had been smitten o t' degradation was complete pulse of an accumulated d ~ible. ~ er this one demonstration ight of Portugal remained p the hangman, and, by the nec ~d on the rest of the proceed ~l calm. o made a speech to his arir conjecture. The bugles 501 compact squadrons, the infant A of triumphant music, the v Fettered to the tree, ~ to enable him to sink down * s left alone, in the centre s under marching orders. progress had been made befo ed, the legions of De Soto C Philip was left to his f~ ug-knife of the savage, or ti ger! He could hear the disi finally, the faint bugle-not he rear-guard; and soon, thi of space, and he remarne palachian solitudes! til to that of man! not before his task i; clean at the heel, His violence was spair, which was no of agony and vio- ssive. Still fettered k, to a sapling of the cigs with a strange, ~ y, the substance of nded; the cavalry ry shouldered arms, hole army marched ith only a sufficient t its foot, Philip de of that now dreary reparations for the 'e the trial, and that departed the spot to e-the fangs of the e crueller death, by ant music, gradually advised him of the too melted away in with silence, in the page: 448-449[View Page 448-449] S CHAPTER XLI. "Had they known, A. woman's hand secured that deed her own. The worst of crimes had left her woman stilI.'t~ -~ CORSAIR. THE army of the Adelantado proceeded on its march along the waters of the Coosaw, but Don Balthazar ~e~Alvaro returned, with his detachment of cavalry, to the village of ~Dhiaha. To him was allotted the duty of bringing up the rear-guard, with the heavy baggage; and he was required to remain in Chiaha until the smaller bodies which had been sent forth on exploring expedi- tions, under Nunb de Tobar, Andres de Vasconselos and others, should return. Chiaha was the appointed place of their rendez- vous. There was an exulting spirit in the bosom of ~Don Balthazar, as he led his troopers away from the field where he had witness- ed the degradation of Philip de Vasconselos. lie had triumphed over his enemy; and there was now no danger that the knight of Portugal would ever cross his path in the progress of the expedition. The penalty of his return was death. Don Baltha- zar would have preferred that this punishment should have been the one inflicted. He did not, himself; attach much importance to what he thought the fantastic notions of honor and shame, which were taught by the laws of chivalry; and, were it not that the punishment of Don Philip implied his utter banishment from the army, and his almost certain death, in the condition in which he had been left, from the fierce fangs of the wild beast, or the reckless arrows of the savage, he might have been still ill at ease in respect to some of his securities. In truth, he still had some lurking apprehensions that Philip de Vasconselos was yet, in some way, his evil genius; destined yet to re-appear, and con- front him with that danger which had so long haunted his ima.. gination! With this fear, it occurred to him, more than once, to send back one of his troopers to dispatch secretly the de- graded knight; but this was placing himself too completely in the power of his creature; and he well knew that such a fact, revealed to D~ Soto and the army, would be necessarily his own (448) ruin; by Vast~ few, bu~ geance! as it haj eyes. J Pers events, I wholly rejoiOifl~ night. perform several mand, a himself his qual "No The ments C The arc soul, an was all ed off; Philip d The trusts g of the I and the filled ti ters he eyes, h4 was pa~ not reti only le~ upo~i a to acoc been d bled hi during citemet lonelin dimly I upon ti gallop oiild con ~onselos, brave a He was I been pr ading hi hat the rom his and exul There wa~ ances an stations, r d refresh] once mor ters, aske Keep ye xpeditior Don Ba -fiend, no stimula - efficient the dirc I Vascons age, Jua i en him ree pap~ ontempl ~ boy wit id little ~ did noth ed in sor 'n by noo vn that I ecret ex] pany tli ~ ied him. and he he night Ti , and sa ~ s of th~ hted by Ti hearth. o a horsc THE MELANCHOLY PAGE. ~rm, to the Adelantado, the a tid would arm the few frien ~ Ld powerful-with perpetual content to leave the doomed )nounced by De Soto, and e self that his death was me ~ anger from that one sourc wn path, he went on his w ing spirit. He reached the still an eager mood hurr d when . he had dismissed i ceived the report of the .0 ed himself with a bottle of into the saddle. The soldi "Shall I mount and follo r post. I want nobody." which now prompted the thazar, was of a sort to req working, more than ever p ~ing a crowd of passions in or his companionship. Don tion of the cabin which had los! did not sleep. He had charge by his master; had s, and destroyed the rest. tion of the several addresses the most melancholy mood.1 ut contemplate. With pert i g but read over the supersci ows and vague apprehensions The boy inquired for him i, had ridden out with the det p~dition. But why had he n( expedition ~? The privilege There was a mystery in the either ate during the day, no~ He was sleepless from mt or walked, as the night ~ rude chamber of the red he brands of pine which b While thus moodily emplo approaching. He. trembled~ 449 accusation made of the latter- iostility and yen- ~oble to his fate, ~cuted before his table, or, at all had been driven y to Chiaha with village late in the ing him to other s troops to their ~cer left in com- canary, he threw ~r on duty before you, Sefior"~ nocturnal move- ire no witnesses~ 4werful within his o eager exercise, Balthazar gallop- seen occupied by ully executed the obsessedd himself ?his employment, of the latter, had One of the let- etual tears in his option. The day Vasconselos did n vain, and could chment of horse t been permitted had never before affair which trou.. sought for sleep nse nervous ex- advanced, in the man, which was azed flickeringly ed, he heard the and clasped his page: 450-451[View Page 450-451] hands; then felt that all the letters were safe within his bosom, and experienced a strange and sudden dread lest the knight should resume the charge of them. There was one letter which he would not willingly give up,-the contents of which he dread- ed, yet desired to peruse. "It is he-it is Philip !" murmured the boy, recovering, and relieved of the apprehensions which had troubled him for the safety of the knight.- "It is* Philip !" and he hastily undid the fastenings of the entrance. The horseman threw himself off the saddle at this m cottage. oment, and hastily pushed his way into the "Sefior 1', said the pa.ge, somewhat taken by surprise at .the manner and hurried movement of the knight, so unlike that of Vasconselos. "Sefior Philip !" he said, timidly and inquiringly. "Not he, my good lad, but one quite as good, I fancy !" an- swered the stranger, grasping the boy's wrist and dragging him towards the light. In the next moment, Juan identified the per- son of the intruder. To recoil was an involuntary act, as he exclai~ned-.. "Don Baithazar !" "Ay, methinks, my good boy, I should be as well known to thee by this time as the cavalier whom thou serves. But why dost thou recoil? Dost thou fear me "No, Seflor, but It was with very great effort that the boy was enabled to say these latter words, which he did with husky and tremulous ac- cents, the sounds~ dying away in his throat. "Ay, but thon dost. Yet thou shouldst not. llenc~forth, thou shalt look upon me as thy best friend and protector, since thy late master can take care of thee no longer." "My late master! the Sei'ior Philip-..Don Philip de Vasconse- los! Speak, Seflor, tell me what hath happened to my master? Where is he? Hath he been wounded-is he "Oh! thou hast.got thy voice of a sudden. But I am too slow of speech to answer thy rapid inquiries. No more of thy late master, boy! Thou art henceforth to be my page. I shall give thee lodgings as near my own as thou hast had to those of Don Philip. Thou shalt be a sharer of 'my chamber, boy, as thou hast been of his! Ay, and I wiJl caress thee and care for thee quite as tenderly. I know thy great merits as a page, and I see thy virtues beneath the unnatural black coating which wrap them up from all other eyes. His eyes never looked on thee more tenderly than mine shall look, boy; and thou shalt lose nothing of pleasure and indulgence by the exchange of one master 460 for ano E sight?" "Ikn 1~ Only tel "Sefi hast dou my Philip amoor? possible v sweet n 2 The b ~ bewilde ix the brai and con d Vascons 1 moment strove S C sions, an "The 1 I do not U ~' Ay, good ho "Slaji ter-' "No! have be n unless s I where h camped." Lord !" wild, ea n hath ha lives !" "Ha! love and] Thou a t hear. I penalty strip of neck hal er, he i Apalach ~ "Jes WI~at say'st thou? Is the thins pleasing in thy not W rue, SeA Philip ;less sai -dear, W.as it variety 0 ie did o r was be lent,\ tha of the qi ence in os, whic of diffici cessfully to answ etior Bal nderstam ut I will Know slain! no! not * about h ne stray lies on 1 ',for the And the Lest plea ped-ho ha! Thc passion. in gro iy lord,' f his crii sword a ered to ~ left to LI'1!" have n at tho~i meanest; I do not r, where is Seflor Philip- -Don Philip! nay, why not s a thousand times to him- ~ear Philip I Is it so, my v riot thus that the dulcet acce ~sweet and pleasant change Philip require thee, my gen wildered. It did not lessen the wine was evidently doing estioner: but Juan had acq' army life, and in the daily now rendered him comp Ity, and under embarrassing to combat his nervous trem r calmly. hazar speaks very strange thi 1'' not leave thee in such bless * then that thy old master is d Thou dost not tell me, SeA exactly quiet yet, unless, ind4 .m with their stone hatchets ai wolf; or pard, hath followed e field where the Adelantad ~love of the ilolyVirgin, tell e was no restraint, now-nc ings of that passionate voice. he hath been circumven canst speak out now, in thy hou forget'st the blackamo ing condition to hear the tr y master, thy Portuguese D es-he hath b~en disgraced d armor, his spurs hewn fr tree, and beaten with blows the storms of heaven and t ercy! And thou hast done I understand thee! n Philip y to me, as thou ~y perfect black- ts ran, in every And by what .e Moor ?" his disquiet and warm work with Lired a strength 3ommunion with actively cool in relations. He rs and apprehen- rigs to me, which 4 ignorance, my disposed of." r, that my mas- ed, the 'red men id macanas,-or a keen scent to hath but lately me truly of my measure, in the "Tell me what ed-if still he natural voice of r policy! Well! th. Thou shalt n, hath paid the rom knighthood, m his heels, his f the execution- e hatchet of the is thing ?" 451 450 VASCONSELOS. TER1~OR OF JUAN. 451 ~r. page: 452-453[View Page 452-453] 452 YASCONSELOS. I' Nay, but a little towards it. I but sped the progress, and nodded to the judgment, and smiled on the execution. I put the arrow on the string and found the mark. 'Twas De Soto that sped it from the bow !" The boy clasped his hands wildly together. The knight began to sing a vulgar ballad then current in the army. There was something very fearful in the strong glance which the page set upon the face of the singer, whose every look and tone betrayed the full consciousness of his triumph. He stooped, while sing. ing, and threw fresh brands upon the fire. Juan suddenly darted away as if to pass him; but the knight was not unobservant, caught him by the arm, as he went forward, and whirled him back to the corner of the chamber beyond him. "No! no! thou dost not cease to be page, boy, in the loss of one master! One but makes way for another; and I am instead of thy Philip; with all his rights and privileges, my sweet Moor. But thou shalt lose none of thine in becoming page to me. Oh! no! thou shalt share my lodge, my couch, an thou wilt, for my taste revolts not at thy dusky visage, when the features are so fine, and the good faith of the owner so perfect. Thou art mine, now, my boy !" "Seilor! I must go and peek Don Philip !" was the calmly expressed resolution of the boy. "Thou wouldst 'go in vain. Thou wouldst find his bones only. He hath given rare picking to the panther." "Seftor, I must go I" "Stay where thou art !" "If thou hast compassion in thy soul---.----" "Pshaw! I know not such folly." "As a knight, thou know'st it is my duty to seek my lord." "Not when he is dishonored, boy! Henceforth, I am thy knight, I tell thee! Thy master-in whose hands thy life lies, even as an egg, which I can crush to atoms with a will! What! thou pre~endest that thou know'st me not! Thou wouldst not admit to thyself that I know thee! Does thy imposture~ tickle thee so much, that thou art resolute not to see and believe ?" The page, indeed, had seen but too well! Yet he was reso. lute, as Don Balthazar had said, not to see! It was still possible -so he persuaded himself-that his persecutor spoke from his drunkenness, rather than his knowledge ;-and that his ~ecrct,- for he had one-was still unsuspected, or, at least, unknown. He answered accordingly, with as much calmness of temper as he could command. K "S~i1or, I know not what thou mean'st or intend'st; but thou surely C been iii -in thi You tel me that what oil in duty and suc treat th well kr serves The leer. "Thi virtue t torn fr4 And th( -to dri What a from th mour ii the sam in the handma ceal th( page !" gather shelter wrong. be his I hope tue as the b1e~ Don within "It i man. Thou si shalt 51 shall y and th~ the kn than he ~nst not d kind fri4 ~Veary ix me that he hath ~nce ;-bi bound, gc ~or him, i~ s of thy r owest wi THE MASK TORN OFF. sign to keep me from the good nd and benefactor,-my pre~ arch through the country of e is gone from me and los undergone a cruel judgment it you tell me that he still li to the service of the good ki I may, and wait on him a~ obleness and mercy, as a at the dutiful page owethi 1 4583 I knight, who hath erver frequently, the Apalachian '~ to me-you tell , for, I know not ~res! Let me, as tight, Don Philip, I should! I en- iight thyself, who 0 the cavalier he yes of Do~ Balthazar answered the speaker with a wicked passeth 1 ) hold oul ~m the fi ~u, too, wI ~am that foolish cI ~ first day all thy o tree; ii same hov iden, the loving tl-mouthe n a thous~ d me as Even nc rate,-onl tot to tea( is thine! sed angel Balthaza lie app] riatters lit He will k talt appea ~ep in my ~eld us ti cavalier. ght mad and m~ )elief!" he exclaimed. "We dei1iial to the last; though, ce, ~t is but a stupid sort ol o knowest me so well,-thou, II should not know thee throt lId thou hast been, and art! that we landed! I watched t progress! Thou hast slept the same shady thicket; und ~l of the red man; and the night, hath drawn the curt embraces of the gallant. Do I, as false! It is untrue! nd places, and the good knigh a noble gentleman, but he h w he knows me-wherever h ~ ,as the boy that I appear to ;h the truth of this to a soul s It is enough that it is kn ~, who have watched us from passed to the door,~ and coached the damsel. ;le, Olivia, whether he knew i~ow thee no more. Thou a r in the army as my page ;~ tent, and under the tree with te same friendly veil which It was no fault of the hand no discovery of thy secret knowledge shall the better p 11, it is a sort of when the mask is virtue to do so! Olivia de Alvaro gh any disguise! But I knew thee ee and thy para- ith him beneath er the same tent; same considerate ns gently, I~o con-. and his Moorish e have slept to- hath watched and ith never done me be, and whatever other eyes! But ) incapable of vir- )wn to me, and to above !" finally fastened it 3hee as boy or wo- t henceforth mine. md,--child,- thou me; and the night he granted to thee K1 aid, I warrant, if But I am wiser 9fit us both. Nor page: 454-455[View Page 454-455] 454 1~ASCONSELO$. need thou put on the airs of thy Biscayan mother with me now! We have no such restraints here, as restrained our raptures and made us fearful in Havana. Here, there is something more than freedom! Thou know'st the license of the army. Thou hast seen that it could not save a princess of the people. Suppose it said to the soldiers, This blackamoor page is the girl whom Philip de Vasconselos entertained par amour-.and what will fob low'? I tell thee, girl, in very love of thee, they will tear one another to pieces, and tear thy delicate limbs to pieces also! Art thou wise to see this, and to understand how much better it will be, still to keep thy secret, and to serve me as a page, even as thou hast served this knight of Portugal ?" For a time, a strongg despair sate in the eyes of Olivia. But she gathered strength and comparative composure, while he was speaking, and when he was done, she said with closed lips and teeth,- "I will perish first !" "Nay, nay, thou shalt not perish! I have done too much to K secure thee in my keeping to lose thee now; when I have at last sfi~curely won thee. I have pursued this knight of Portugal, until I destroyed him, because he knew the secret of thy shame and n~y dishonor! He is no longer a danger to either of us.-And thou art won! We are here, alone-in the deep midnight,-- with no eye to see, no hand to rescue thee from my grasp,-and, with the treasure thus won,-..and the precious beauty thus in my embrace,-shall I now recoil from my possessions ?-shall I withdraw my claim, and abandon the very bliss for which I have toiled in such secret ways, and perilled so many open dangers'? No, my Olivia, thou art now mine, more certainly than ever. It needs now no subtle opiate to subdue thy senses. It needs now no future watchful anxiety, to watch the paths, and dread ever more the danger and detection! Here, we have perfect freedom. Life means privilege, to take and keep I W~ have no laws but such as justify the passions; and just now, the passions are the only laws that require to be obeyed. Thou art mine, girl,- mine, Olivia,-and I seize thee with a rapture, which, sweet as thy embrace hath been of yore, promises now a blessing as far beyond the past, as the joys of heaven are claimed to be beyond those of earth! Wilt thou be mine, and submit to be my wil. ling page, as thou hast been, par amour, the page of Vasconselos?" '~Touch me not, Seilor !"-she said as he approached her. "Touch me not !" "Ay, but I will touch thee, and take thee, and wind thee in my embrace, I tell thee !-.---." "Tone "Thoi shoulder, or cottOi~ from its the same and fell l "Ha!' hand upo we here? He wa she cried "It mi It is fron knew it have to C And '~ of the p stood St where b could no instinct. sound is~ tim, he £ feet! 5] only tou( them on from th upon her of the fo gasping that it in Holy Vi Li me not art mine and tore armor, ~ ~onds, an moment, pon the g said he, ii her shoi about I Lst be so! God him irould cor .0 it!" hile speali ige, and )oping. ~st to pis L have bc She smc ued, with ~ll forward ie hastily hed-the~ e more i cabin! own steec rests! an ~nd breatl2 4 to be 4 ~gin! It SHARP AND SUDDEN. as he continued to approach I tell thee !" and he laid Ofl( wide the fastenings of the ja hich she wore, until the whit [grew revealed to the eyes of the three letters of Vasconse. round. stooping to lift them, while tlder-" Ha! What love 455 L. hand upon her ket of escaupil, bosom escaped the satyr! At os escaped also, he still kept one - chronicles have o gather theni up, when, witl~ broken accents, It hath been decreed! It self! I must d~ it! There ie to this at last. I felt s' ing thus, as if to herself; she ;mote the knight upon the lad she been taught byam nt the blow for immediate en more effectually guided th te but once, and while a hus ~ volume of blood, from the I I upon the earth, and lay m gathered up the letters whi were already spotted with h ato her bosom, opened the In a few moments more, sI and flying-flying far and fa I ever as she rode, she mur ing heavily-" I knew it mu )ne! Ithadtobedone!It had to be done, and by my h~ is a command! .s no escape! I ire that I should drew the dagger neck, even as he Ltomical science leath, her hand m by its suddeii ~y and gurgling hroat of the vie- otionless at her 3h his hands had s blood,-thrust loor, and darted Le was mounted ~t, into the cover nured to herself; st be so !-I felt had to be done! rids!" page: 456-457[View Page 456-457] CHAPTER XLII. "Now shall we pluck him from his wretched plight, And make misfortune favor." Ow PrAY THE arPny of De Soto marched down the west side of the ~oosa, and were soon buried deeply in the virgin wildernesses of Alabama. They gave but few thoughts to the noble victim whom they had dishonored and left to perish in the ravening solitudes of the forest. To him, the short remnant of the day passed in such a dreariness as may better be imagined than de- scribed. Fettered rigidly to the tree, at the foot of which he was barely suffered to repose in a half-crouching position, Vasconselos was scarcely conscious of the hours as they glided from daylight into darkness. A savage gloom covered up his soul, and shut out the ordinary transitions and aspects of external life from his vision. In the case of one so noble of soul, so proud of spirit, so sensitive to shame and honor, we may fancy how terribly intense were the horrors of such a doom as that which he h~d been made to endure. We may equally understand how regardless he had become in respect to the future, from his endurance of the past. The day passed blankly,. before his eyes; the st~rrs caine out, looking down upon him with sad aspects through ~he overhang- ing boughs of the forest trees, with like blankness of expression. He heeded not, he did not behold the tender brightness in their looks. He lay crouching, a grim savage, denied the only prayer which his soul~ could possibly put up in that dreary trial, that of a manly death, through a fierce and terrible struggle with his enemies. And so, hour after hour, in a hopeless craving for freedom of limb, and the exercise of a mighty muscle in the deadly strife! and.the hopeless craving became at length debility. Mental and ~phy~ical exhaustion began to supervene. He became conscious of aspects and influences which taught to his waning faculties the fear 9f approaching madness. He was conscious~ of an incerti- tude of thought and sense, which was the most oppressive of all the painful feelings which he now endured. He felt that his senses were escaping him, or becoming so diseasedly acute as to confound his judgment. He felt that he could no longer bring (456) to bear sober in before Ii mingliri~ of tongi fingers, and heal eyes tha mazy da In the n rather scious ol they wh the heax over hii soon fol] of a sa~ possess( threw u~ away th4 mentary hour-n fasten u} to strug~ thought terrible, conscrou: the shan The si moment. long etei period ~ to the re ble to su PhIlip d senseless And t bough, ai and uncl slumbers lightly a~ thicket. heard up spotted, THE VULTURE. ~zpon his f culties the. exercise of a conti md. Stra ge hues and colors, and glea is eyes; s range sounds, and murmurs, in his e rs; andhe could feel~asit~ es of fla e that were put out to meet lirifling them with curiously painful s alternately . It was not the stars that] t swept d wn to him from above, wheel rices, and causing in troops to look do~ Lidst of t ese aspects, which were tho han the eye, his physical senses ~ the flight of some great bird whose w ~eled abo t him in slow gyrations, gra~ y frame s ttled down upon the bough~ a, whence he heard the great wings fla1 owed by piercing scream, which seen: age voice f exultation-that of the vi n of his rey. And with a natural in: his arms, and waved his han~d feebly al obscene nd voracious cormorant. T] creeping f his flesh in horror, as he r t long t be delayed-when the wing on his he rt, and wheit he should not pi ;le against his blood-seeking beak. f still strox e to reconcile him to' a prob which ye promised him release fron mess of t e moral doom which his lif e~ dishonor , and humiliation of his pres rife of tho ight and consciousness, thoug] in such a condition as that in which he nity of to ture It was not to be endui ith morta co~isciousness; and insensil lief of a m sery which human strength f stain. Th ught left him, and murmurii ~ Vascons los sunk at length prostrate ness, at th foot of the tree. he great bird dropped heavily beside id walked about him, and stood with gr )sing wing~ above his head, as if fanning But suddenly he strode away, am ~ain into t~e tree, as he heard a chili A moment after, a stealthy cat-like 1 ntheleates; and soon a long gaunt f stole forth, and approached the uncor 20 oiling will and a ns, were flashing' and voices, wer~ ~rere, the touches the ends of his nations of cold ie saw, but great ing about him in vn into his own. ~e of the mind ere made con ngs he heard, as ually ceasing, as of the tree just )ping, the sound ed the utterance ilture already in ;tinct, the knight nft, as if to scare tere was a mo- flected upon the 4 savage would )ssess the power ut the lingering ability, however the mortifying had received- ~nt situation. but for a single hry, was itself a ed for a longer iility soon came iund it impossi- Ig insane things, e, and in utter him from the ~dually shutting him into deeper [lifted himself 1-like cry in the, read. was to be rm, beautifully scious cavalier. page: 458-459[View Page 458-459] 458 VAscoNsImos. TilE PANTHER. 459 And the wild savage of the woods,-the most savage, perhaps, in all the forests of America, the panther, encircled the sleeping man; and he stooped his nose to the unconscious ears; and there was a faint murmur of speech from the l~ps of the knight; and once more the panther retired into his thicket, and the great vulture, again dropped from the tree-top td the ground. And he, to~ encircled the sleeper. And once more he spread his great wings above his head, and he fanned slowly the drowsy air about him: then Jie sounded a fiei'ce wild note-a great shriek through the forest-and the sleeper stirred slightly with a lifted arm; and the vulture resumed the fanning with his wings. But soon another shriek from the depths of the night was heard in answer to the signal of the watchful bird; and another followed after it. And ere many moments there was a family group of the raven. ous birds about their victim, and each spread forth his wings, * beating slowly the drowsy atmosphere, and drawing nigher mo- mently until they stood about the head and breast of the un~on- scious knight, like so many hooded priests about the corse of a brother. And still it seemed as if the knight were not uncon- scious, though unable. A murmur broke from his lips, and ever and anon his arm was thrown up spasmodically, but only to fall supine upon the earth beside him. Again was the child-like cry heard in the forest, and the savage panther once more issi~ied from its depths, stealthily as the cat, passing along timorously beside the edge of the wood, and pur- suing a circling course towards his victim; and this time he came not alone. He was accompanied by his more savage mate, fol- lowed by her cubs, and they drew near, whining as they did so, like kittens that a~~e beckoned to their food. The obscene birds angrily flapped their wings and shrieked a~ their approach; but still retreated, and once more lifted themselves upon slow pinions to- the trees above, where they looked down, watching the common prey, and waiting for their moment with iinpa- tience. Now, could we see clearly the condition of the exhausted cavalier, we should behold him covered wiiih a cold and clammy sweat, the proof that there was still a lur~dng consciousness, a faculty of life, which, though lacking every essential capacity for struggle and defence, was yet not wanting in the cutest sensi- bilities of horror. Again was there a feeble murmur of speech from his pallid lips, and again were his nerveless arms stirred, but this time uxiiifted, as if striving to defy or to drive away the assail- ant. He was not thus to be expelled. Heedless of the murm m'~ U heedle~ planted The m. every I at the I in grea open, a his ann ness; head, 14 are no~ streflgt eyes ci he can escape. instinct incapal mind I latest C and sa~ He and no tree, ar from ti offensi~ The gr The hg troops that no spot wi The be, path, a~ brands and the to rend trees oJ they se of their which t of Thei should neglect his eye In pl s of the moving arms, the savage dam, her stealthy foot firmly upon the bos ile panther , meanwhile, stood above his I movement, and ready to rend with fiere ~rst shows of life or struggle. And the 4 sh1ts,-or drops fr m brow and bosom of the nd he strives to shout, but strikes o~rt wildly, but with the most nd on the instant the grim savage who aps terribly upon his breast. And the widely ~pen, and he sees and. feel no hopej! He murmurs a prayer t se upon t~e rest! He resigns himself io longer ppose, and from which he Not that~ he desires escape from death only that ~would struggle now, and for he. It is t~ie manner of the death onl volts, and the mind rapidly lapses in nsciousne~s he hears the sharp, shrill c age beast ~zpon his breast., ittle drea~ns that the cry is one of an of trium~h. Suddenly the vultures d the beasts cry angrily beneath it. eir prey. The woods gleam with sudde~ ely in the eyes of the midnight prowl at natural alleys of the forests echo wit ts dart f4un side to side; they are f the red men that gather at the su~xn v approach~, armed with flaming brands ere the P ~rtuguese cavalier lies at le sts growl and whine, fiercely glaring up ~ they retir~ from before the gleaming re flung at them by the red men, to ha slink awV from the victim whom the; The vult res in turn lift their vans am ~ the forest There they sit, brooding So the panthers, with their savage yo feast, lun1~ angrily upon the edge of th I ey make their abode. They still lurk, victim; a~d woe to the Indian, particu] e or she pander too nigh the spot wher s to wave before the path the brand of cc of obscene bird and savage beast. ~ 0 ~'JC rying to her cubs, rn of the victim. lead, watchful of teeth and talons, ~old sweat breaks ight, and his eyes ~ow feebly !-~and child-like feeble- stands above his ~yes of the knight but he has no Heaven, and his to the fate which ees no means of It is the animal this the animal is (from which the o trance. In his ~y of the gigantic noyance and fear, scream from the hey are startled~ lights, th~it flash rs of the jungle. cheerfilil voices. porches Thrne by ons of a group also, towards the gth unconscious. on the backward porches. Blazing ry them in flight, were just about sail off tohigher sullenly on what ng, disappointed dark jungle in watchful, hopeful rhy if a woman, he cr~uches, and re which offends oups of the red A69 page: 460-461[View Page 460-461] 460 YASC0NSEL0S. men surround the prostrate knight. In the midst, bent Over him with solicitous care and passionate affl$ction, kneels a young and beautiful woman of the dusky race. ~L{er cares revive him. He opens his eyes to see, by the light of the blazing torches, the fond and sweet features of Co a , t e Princess of Cafachiqui. "He lives! His eyes open to Co9all~i! *Oh! Philip, thou shalt be mine now, and forever, and a great chief among my people!" He swoons again, but he is in fond and faithful keeping. * 4 4 CHAPTER XLIII. "Faithful, she flies, in search of him she] J3ut droops at last I Ah I hapless, that ti Finds no sufficient succor from the fram T' achieve the wondrous virtue that it ~ OLI IA DE ALIVARo-or, as we shall continue her as umed character and sex-Juan, the Pag the d ed done w~iich avenged the wrongs of upon ne, at leasl~, and the worst of their enen fiery s eed, with ~lood more fiery and wild, L her o n bosom. She drove the rowel into the wittin what she did or where she flew. Foi gress as the wo~k of madness. Certainly, si single oment of thought. She obeyed an imJ She m de no moment's pause, she asked herse tion. t mattered not to her, in that fearful hoi dyed deeply in kindred blood, and thick 'billow sea, seaming to flow in upon her throbbing br tion s1~e flew, or .what fate awaited her. Th( seemingly beyond, if not foreign to her own, forwar4l recklessly. The passions held the rei~ as they bade. The horse flew beneath her, yet: would ~iave flown beyond him. His speed w~ wild a~d headlong flight of her moods. She scious &f his movements. On, on-no mat goads him terribly forward-and he snort~ as and th~ thick flakes of foam gather about hi white streaks rise upon his flanks, and yet the tears his reddening sides. But the instincts of horse and rider are eqi kr~ew the general routes of the army. In for military traces are few and soon defined. The of horse or foot through the woods soon ma] tible. The horse readily detects the beaten pa lows. Our page, besides, had been previous route of De Soto. He knew from the taunts o that Vasconselos had been summoned to camp,- he had i~een dishonored-and left ;-and beyor no more knowledge to give him a general notio (461) oves, te soul -1lls I"- OLD PLAY. to describe her in ~ of Vasconselos; herself and lover Lies; fled upon her wounding madly in eager destrier, un~ a time, her pro~ ic gave herself no )ulse-an instinct. if no single ques- ir, with her hands ~ of the same red tin, in what direc-, re was a power, which drove her is. She followed .t seemed as if she ~s nothing to the ~vas scarcely con- ber whither-she he bounds away, mouth, and the rowel rakes and ially true. Juan ~st countries, the tread of a corps ~es itself percep- ~hways of his fel- ~ advised of th~ ~ Don Balthazar, -that it was there d this he desired a of the route he page: 462-463[View Page 462-463] 462 VASCONSELOS. should pursue. Ho had become skilled, from the sinuou gress which he had made with the army. lie had gradu~ perhaps without his own consciousness-acquired all those ral laws of travel which the wayfarer in the great forest hardly forbear to learn. But to these he made: no referee the present progress. His lessons came t? him through pulses. They served him as instincts. In ~he ordinary pro of thought and induction, he certainly c~id not once it during the long, wild, but well-directed flight, in which we trace his course. He dashed headlong through the village of Chiaha, whei' command of Don Balthazar was still quartered. Little di cavaliers dream of the bloody fate of their superior. TI gitive was challenged by the sentry as he entered one sylvan avenues, and again challenged as he hurried throu~ opposite end into the wilderness again. He heard not t] mand-he made no answer to the summons, and the mat was emptied at him as he flew, and he knew not that h escaped any danger. The great thickets ohee more recciv with such shelter as they afford. The dim lights of heave~ fice for the steed, but he sees nothing, nor is he conscio any lack of light. If he does not reason, he is yet not lightened by aspects that sufficiently fill his mind. Even speeds, he sees, still receding as he approaches, yet still spicuously distinct before his eyes, the great encampment c Soto-the amphitheatre of trees and tents, and grouped 501 surrounding and grim warriors presiding in judgment, and a executioner with bloody axe~prominent over all, and in the~ a noble form, about to sink !-and he cries hoarsely as he the steed-hoarsely and feebly,-his voice subsiding to a per- "But one moment, Philip-but one moment-and I am thee. With thee, Philip! with thee! To die with thee, Phi to die for thee! One moment, Philip-one moment-onc And at each period of pause,-when the steed stopped to -"-or, with nose to the ground, to scent, or to feel, his way would be the apostrophe. Then the dark or bloody aspects seem to rise more conspicuously and urgently before the ga the fugitive-the arrested motion of the steed making hiri that the delay was dangerous-that the e~Tent was in pr~ which he alone could arrest-that not a moment was to be 1 and this was all his thought! Then it was that the ling beast would be made anew to feel the severe inflictions o rowel,-and, snorting with terror to plunge forward with hiE pro. ily-. gene- ~ can Lee in 5 liii. esses lulge ire to the I his e fu. f the ITI the o do. ilock had him suf- is of men- is he con- I' De fliers ~ruel Tlidst purs ~rhis. with ip- )ant, such ould :e of feel rress ost! ring the bur- 462 THE MAD FLIGHT. 463 den-fortunately a light one-resuming a fi ght which, for five hours, had known no cessation. In this flight the rider had no terrors-no consciousness of any danger. T e beast had many. Sometimes he shyod from the track; ~ hile eve y limb shook with emotion. His keen scent had caught the wind borne to him from the lairs of the wolf and panther. They, too might have been upon his track; doubtless were,-but that his flu ht had been ~o fast and far, and that he seemed to their eyes t carry on his back a wild terror, with eyes of madness, much mo e fearful than their own. Of such as these the fugitive never th ught. But, when the steed swerved aside, he irked him with s ur or -dagger,----in- dignant-crying out in shrillest tones-.~" Beas ! we have not a moment to lose. See you not they hasten! ah! Philip, but a moment more! But a moment !" And with every word there was rowel stroke, or dagger thrust, till the flanks and neck of the steed yore clammy with the red blood oozing forth. And while the eyes of the rider stared out~ dilating, wild and red, into the infinite space and vacancy-fii~ ed only with con- fused and dreadful aspects to his gaze-the daly suddenly opened the great portals of the world, and the steed Went forward with more confidence; but Juan saw not a whit i~ore than had been quite as apparent to him all the night. Nat, he saw less, for night and darkness, and the solitude, had bee~ favorable to the creation of such illusions as had occupied his md, and the glare of day, and the sounds and sights of waking a Tid creeping things, did somewhat conflict with the mental power o create and make its own individual impressions. It was a dreadful ride, like that of Leono~a and the Fiend Lover, in the weird and fantastic legend of Bi~rger. And, if the dead lover accompanied not our filfgitive, ther~ were yet terrible aspects that rode beside, and fearful cries followed on the wind, while ever ana anon the voice of Don Balth~zar thrilled in the ears of the page, crying, "Back, you are mhie! You are too late !" Then would the fugitive set his teeth closely tether, and clutch his dagger with determined gripe, amjl hiss through his shut lips-" What! you have not had enough?1 You would taste again, would you !" And so muttering, he would behold. the amphitheatre once more, wherein Do Soto's knights and soldiers e vironod the noble victim; and so seeing, the* boy would set on, with driving spur anew, repeating his hoarse whisper in. his throa The while-" Bpt page: 464-465[View Page 464-465] 46~ VASCONSELOS. TIlE STEED A CAPTIVE. 465 a moment, Philip-but a moment and I will be with th die with thee !" The day dawned, and the horse sped over a beaten He was in the very route pursued the day before, when Baithazar returned triumphant after the degradation of my-returned, as he fancied, to delights, and the safe rene criminal but intoxicating pleasures, never once dreaming Fate stood with open arms welcoming him to the bloodied brace. The steed of our page felt himself sure at every step. track was readily apparent. He went forward more confi and more cheerfully-, but with less rapidity, for now it wa the rider began to feel the gradual exhaustion of' that str which had been too severely taxed by such a progress. page was no longer conscious of the diminished speed of th mal. His own growing feebleness reconciled him to the sluggish pace of the beast. But ever and anon he would out of his stupor with a sort of cry, and using the rowel, expostulate-" Would you stop now, beast, when we ar the spot? What, do you not hear him call to me? You kno voice. Hear! He says-ah! what does he say! But I 1 know. Wait but a moment, Sei'ior,-but a moment- moment !" And the bridle grasp would relax,-and the form would to turn in the saddle,-while the eyes would close for a whi open anew, only at the sudden short stopping of the hor graze along the wayside. Then would the rider show a mo anger, and send him forward anew with prick of dagger, and ter as before-the poor beast submitting, with the wanted ity. of the well-trained war-horse, pursuing meekly the b track until he stood-coming to a full halt-on the very gr where De Soto's encampment had been made. Then the page opened his eyes, and was about to smit~ beast and goad him forward-when the rude scaffolding ~ the Adelantado had made his dais-on which had stooc Chair of State, and where he had delivered judgment-be suddenly apparent to his glance. With a sudden shriek a beheld, the boy stretched out his hands and plunged forward: ing heavily upon the ground, with a sad murmur- "It is too late! too late!" He swooned away; while the horse, stepping carefully I ward, wandered. oW in search of water. And, for an hour beast wandered thus from side to side. He found streams in ~ and rack. Don ene- al of that em- The ~ntly that The '4 he slaked his thirst. He found tender. grasses in the shady woods, which he cropped at leisure. And the day thus wore on. The animal now began to be a ]ittle restive and he whinnied for companionship, looking round, from side to side, for some one to approach, and strip off his furniture, and show that solicitude for him to which he had been accustomed, and which the beast craves no less than his master. His whinny made its way to other ears than those of his late rider. The page still lay insensible, in the shadow of a great tree; nature thus seeking relief from the sufferings which it had undergone, and obtaining respite from the fiery stress of thought upon the brain. Soon, a figure emerged from the thicket, stealth- ily approaching the spot where the horse had again begun to feed. The stranger was one of the red men, a subject of the Cassique of Chiaha. He was followed by two others, one of whom was a woman. The leader of the party made his way towards the steed, observing the while the greatest precaution. To the red mei~ the horse was still an object of terror. He had been wont, at first, to confound him with his rider. He had thus per- fectly conceived the idea of the ancients of the East, to whom we owe the classical monster, the Centaur. Disabused by expe- rience of this error, he did not yet divest the horse of all those powers which really belonged to his rider, lie fancied still that fire issued froig his nostrils. He did not doubt that his teeth were quite as~ fearful as those of the tiger or the wolf. It re- quired, accordingly, no small degree of courage to approach the monster of which so little w~s known, and of whose powers so much was erroneously thought. But one red man did approach; the horse seeming so innocent-so gentle and subdued-so quiet.. ly grazing, and altogether inviting approach by the general do- cility of his air and behaviour. The grasp of the forest hunter was at length fairly laid upon the bridle of the steed, and he was a captive. The red man laughed out with delight. He called his com- rades to him, and they approached with trembling. He grew bolder as he beheld their fears.. He encouraged them. He stroked the neck and mane of the beast, who seemed grateful and submissive, and they all laughed. And they chattered among themselves like parrots; until made bolder as he became familiar, and as the animal continued to crop the grass, showing himself quite passive, the captor leapt upon his back, and crept forward to the saddle, and wreathed his hand in the mane, having abandoned his grasp of the bridle, of the use of which he had no notion. Pleased with his elevation, the savage persuaded his 2O~ - 465 464 page: 466-467[View Page 466-467] 466 VASCONSELOS. comrades to follow him, and his brother warrior leapt ,then the squaw followed, and as the horse moved slowly fron~ side to side, cropping the grass, and seemingly heedless of his urden, but still walking, the simple savages clapped their hai s and yelled with delight. But that yell' awakened the destrier to new sensation The beast knew that he was in the power of his enemies. H char- acter changed on the instant. His moods, his pa~sioims, re all stirred with excitement. He threw head and tail alo . He shook out his mane; the blood of the war-horse was aro sed as with the shrill summons of the clarion, and he dashed a ay at headlong 'speed, to seek the spot where he had left his aster. At the first bound be shook himself free of the squaw, wh rolled away over his haunches, suffering nq hurt but a prodigious right, as she settled down in a heap upoi~ the earth, hardly k owing whether she was dead or alive. The Indians yelled agai with sudden terror; and the shrill cry increased the speed of t e ard- mal. Away he dashed with the headlong rapidity of a argc. The foremost of the savages clung to hi~ back like a cat, w ile he wound his hands more firmly' within ~e animal's mane. The other clung to the body of his comrade. Then the animal hrew his head down, and both of them went over his neck. They rolled away, on opposite 'sides, quite unhurt, but h ribly alarmed. The steed flew, as he felt relieved of his burde , and he was quickly out of sight. The two savages lay for several minutes upon the ear , not daring to look up or speak. But as the sounds of the rse's feet grew more distant, one of them rose to a sitting p ture. He called to the other in under tones.' It required some t ught and examination to be assured of the fact that both of the still lived, and that no bones were broken. One of them wen back for the squaw. She, too, was unhurt. They were soon bm ught together, and a rapid consultation determined them to rsue the monster who had treated them with so much, mdi nity. Bows were~bent, arrows got in readiness, the stone hatch' was seized in sinewy grasp, and the two warriors went forward the woman following at a little distance, and trembling for the vent. It was a matter of course that the red men should fast n in- stantly upon the fresh track of the horse, and follow it with unerring certainty. The beast, meanwhile, had made hi way back to where the page had fallen, and when the pursuers ' rew nigh they found him smelling at the hands of his late, ride and pushing them with his nose. The boy was stirring sli htly. Suddenly, the horse receded. He had winded the red men. He TUE PAGE A CAPTIVE. 467 dashed back ard, and as he did so, seizing their moment, they both darted upon the half-awaking Juan, and had seized him by the arms before he had become fully conscious. The rude assault brou ht him back to consciousness. He strove to shake off his capto s, but his struggles were-feeble; his arms fell use- lessly, unper ormingly, beside him; arid he showed his submission by signs. . hy should he struggle against fate? What had he to live for? Why should he dread the death which he now fancied to b certain? The red en possessed themselves of the page's dagger, the only weapq' which he carried. With their stone hatchets waving in hi sight, they motioned him to rise. By signs they bade him recover the horse, which he did without effort, but they were sufficiently wary not to suffer him to mount. The beast was led accordingly, and the boy proceeded with his captors all on foot; the squaw having joined them in compliance with their repeated halloos. The destrier was now docile enough, following his master. The page feebly' led him on. But he soon sank down by the way. One of the red men would have brained him with his hatchet; but the other, who was the older, and the woman, ~~nt~r- posed. Th~ latter soon perceived the boy's exhaustion, and while one of the men went off in search of a spring or .rivulet, the squaw darted into the woods, bringing back with her, after a little while, some leaves, and a small round acid fruit. The lat- ter she squeezed into the page's mouth. The kaves she pressed upon his forehead. Water was brought in a leaf shaped like a slipper, of ~rhich he drank freely. In a little while he was re- vived. When he recovered sufficiently, he motioned them by signs to let him ride, on~e of them taking the bridle within his hands. The proposition was a startling one, and led to a long discussion among the captors, which was finally settled 'by the eldest of the party, who seized the bridle with the most heroic air of self-sacrifice, in one hand, while with the other, waving his stone hatchet, he threatened the head of the horse with sud- den stroke, at the first suspicious symptom. Juan mounted with feeble heart and limbs, indifferently, and only resigned to the wishes of his captors. And thus the four travelled for six or eight weary hours. Noon came ~nd went. The sun at length was faintly smiling farewell over the' forest, at the~ closing of his pilgrimage, When the Party came in sight of the beautiful river, the Coosa, at the spot where ~t first acquires an individual existence, from the junction of the Etowah and the Oostanaula. page: 468-469[View Page 468-469] 46$ Y~SCONSELOS. JEALOUS TEARS. 469 t{ere was an encampment of the red men. They co d be seen in crowds along the banks of the river. But the e es of Juan were fastened upon a group that 'was gathered ben ath a 'sort of canopy upon the hillside. They slowly approaches this t3tation. The pages eyes brightened as he drew nigh. S rely, it is Don Philip that 'he sees, seated upon the ground in fr nt Qf th&' canopy, while the red men wander about in the back- ground. But 'the .page doubts. Can it be that the savag look. ing man whom he sees,-woe-stricken, with matted and 4 ~hev- elled hair and 'beard,~is his noble master-the accomp ished knight of Portugal-the man of grace, and stature, and be uty; of ease and sweetness, and clear bright eye, and generous a~ Oct? Can he have so altered in so short a space? Juan could sc~ cely believe. But he had no conception of the change which h had himself undergone. With a cry he threw himself from the teed at the feet of the cavalier- "Oh! Senior! Oh! 'Don Philip " The knight looked up for the first time as he heard the c y. "My poor boy, my poor Juan, is it thou, indeed!" And he took the boy suddenly to his embrace. He s unk from the grasp: he trembled like a leaf; tottered, and ould have fallen but that the knight held him up. "God be praised, Juan, that thou art again with me! I had feared that I should lose thee forever, my poor boy; and su ely, Juan, if there be any that I can now love, it is thyself." He again grasped the page. and drew him to his embrace. The head of the' boy sank upon his shoulder. His eye was b ight with tears. The head was relieved. The heart enjoyed a str nge and sudden sensation of happiness. At that moment his ear caught the sound of a well-known voice. "Philip!" said, in the tenderest tones, the beautiful Coc Ila, the Princess of Cofachiqui; and she laid her hand affection~ ely upon the shoulders 'of the knight. "Philipt" The word went liked a dagger to th~ heart of the page. he tenderness of tone in which it was sj~oken filled her soul ith bitterness. There was an agony in h~r bosom, *as sudden nd extreme as the rapture which had filled it but a moment be re, and, with the seeming recovery of all ~her strength and se sep, she withdrew herself from the embrace of Vascon~elos, ho gently released 'her. "Go within, Juan," said the knight, pointing him to the do tent of bushes before which stood the ~anopy of stained. cot n; "go within, boy, and await me, for I have much to hear from thee." With the big tears gathering in his eyes like great pearls of the ocean, the page did as he was commanded, having, ere he went, beheld Co9alla take her place by the side of the knight, while one of her hands rested proudly' on his shoulder, and her large bro~~n eyes seemed to drink in rapture while gazing deeply into his. page: 470-471[View Page 470-471] CHAPTER XLIV. "Auf. Say, What's thy name? ~Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy tace Bears a command in 't; though thy tackle's torn Thou show'si a noble vessel. What's thy name ?" Uorio MEANWHILE, the Spanish army pursued its progress in o rich, wild provinces of the Alabamous. They were no preaching the territories of the great Indian Cassique, calle caluza, or the Black Warrior,-a ruler at once remarkab the extent of his sway, his haughty valor, and his gigantic st He had heard of the approaching Spaniards, of their power,~ I wonderful arms and armor, their strange appearance, an mystery which seemed to envelop their origin. He was rally curious to see the strangers, and was too great a pote himself; and too valiant a chief to entertain any apprehensi their power. Of their treatment of his kinswoman, Co~alI had up to this period heard nothing, and his invitation, ac ingly, through his inferior cassiques, was cordially extend the Spanish commander to visit him in the recesses of his' domain. His chief settlements were along the banks of the which still bears his name-his territories stretched away i nitely, even beyond the waters of the Mississippi. As the s gers drew nigh to his royal precincts, he dispatched his son to them special welcome-.-a youth of eighteen, but tall like hi ~his stature far overtopping that of the tallest soldiers i Spanish army. His bold and noble carriage contributed, his stature,~to compel the respect and admiration of the Ad tado and hi~ cavaliers. But ere the arrival of this youth, as an ambassador, there some stir in the Spanish camp, in consequence of the treat which Philip de Vasconselos had received. The return of de Tobar, and Andres de Vasconselos, led to warm words, a passion, and finally to a re-examination of the affair. If An felt coldly towards his brother-and no doubt his conscience long since rebuked him severely for his conduct, for which his bo pride would suffer him to make no atonement---his feelings kindred were by no means subdued. Now that his brother dishonored, and had probably perished in consequence of 470 9 ZI 1&3. the ap- Tus. for ure. heir the atu- tate ri of' ~, he ord- I to wild iver clefi- ran- rrive self; the with Ian- was ent uno gry res had ish of as ihe exile and exposure which followed his sentence, the better nature of the young man obtained the ascendant, and he felt his error to its full extent and bitterly lamented the little sympathy~ which he had shown to a brother to whom he was indebted for the best training and affection of his early years. Nor was Nuno de Tobar less eagerly aroused than Andres to the necessity of vindi- cating the fame of Philip, and, if possible, of recovering and re- storing him to the army. To this end their earnest efforts were directed. The woods were scoured where the victim ha~ been left to perish, but in. vain. He was already in the close keeping of the Princess of Copachiqui-not so far, indeed, from th~ camp of the Spaniards~-not so much beyond their reach-but that, had he himself been willing, he might have been found. But in what way could it be conveyed to him that he was not pursued with malice, and that justice should be done to his worth at last? He might well question the motives for the search on the part of those from whom he had never yet experienced sympathy or confidence. Co§alla and her followers were all well aware of the ncAghbor- hood of the Spanish parties sent out in search of Philip-nay, he himself was not ignorant, and he might possibly have suspected their better motives, knowing as he did that his brother and Nuno de Tobar were at the head of these detachments; but he now no longer cared to resume a connection with the associates who had abandoned him, and with an expedition whose daily pro- gresses revolted all his human and chivalrous sentiments. Be- sides, he had been inexpiably disgraced according to all the laws of chivalry, and there was no adequate power to do him justice, and to restore his honors. A. savage scorn of all social relations took the place in his bosom of the centerr sympathies he h~id once so loved to cherish. A fierce mood~ preyed like a vulture upon his thoughts, and he brooded only upo~ revenge. This was now the atoning, the compensative sentiment which he encouraged, ~.nd his thought was wholly addressed to tl~e modes by which he ~hould wreak the full measure of his vengeance upon the two whom he regarded as the principals in his great disgrace, and the bitter defeat of all his hopes and honor. His thought by day, his dream by night, found him ever engaged in the hot struggle of the gla- diator with Don Balthazar de Alvar6 and the haughty Adelan- tado; and he sat or wandered with his savage associate~, grim. and silent, following the progress of the Spaniards with e~ye and mind; a Fate, himself; threatening but too truly the melancholy doom which attended upon their footsteps. It was with a gloomy feeling of bitterness and self-reproach that REVOCATION OF JUDGMENT. 471 page: 472-473[View Page 472-473] 472 YASCONSELO$. Andres de Yasconselos and N~trno de Tobai' gave p the a ~fter the~ fugitive. They naturally concluded tha he hac .1 ished--the victim of the red men. But they ad dressed selves to the business of the inquiry touching the ch rgesbr u against him, and, in particular, as concerned the a ency o I Balthazar in the affair. In respect ±o this person, uno ba~ could giVe considerable evidence. The convict ion tha I Baithazar had been ~the vindictive pursuer of his; rather o structioj~, prompted Andres de Vasconselos to hurry to the vii of Ch4~ha, where the former had been left in comm nd, res 1 to disgrace him by blows, and force him to single ombat. was met on his~arrival by the intelligence, already nown o of the ~murder of the knight, and~ of the flight of the age Ji the latter being~supposed by some the assassin; b other, * red men w~re credited with the achievement, th boy c thought their captive. Andres de Vasconselos was disarmed by this intell gence,~ I had the further effect of reli~eying Hernah de Soto of much responsibilities of his situation. Though bold and hau hty en v it was yet quite too important to the safety, not I as tha success, of the Adelantado; to venture to defy the co plaint Andignation of some of his bravest knights. He n w bega feel that he should need the very meanest of his fo ce to c through the objects of his expedition, and in propitia ~ng the tains who had interested themselves in the case o Philip death of Don Balthazar afforded a ready agency. He wa fact, the chief criminal, and De Soto was really but is crea Facts~were exposed by Tobar, showing the bitter m lice of Baithazar ;. and the very featuress whom he had subo ed ag.~ the knight of Portugal, were now not unwilling to expose influences which were brought to bear for his destr ctio~i. Soto, after the, farce of a solemn reconsideration of t e case, brought to revoke his judgment; but it was too late! Phili Vasconselos had undergone a fearful change of cha cter. was now the vulture of revenge, hovering in the rea of the voted cavalcade, waiting his moment when to swoo dow blood upon the quarry. Close and ominous watch, indeed, did he keep upon the m ments of the Spaniards through the agency of the red en of fachiquL They were gathering daily in numbers, ell arm and eager for revenge. They were joined by the v~ warriors Chiaha, and tacitly, as it seemed, did they refer the wh le cond of their people to the direction of Philip de Vasconsel s. In they naturally obeyed the wishes of the Princess; bu~ this in * rch er. ~rn. ght )ou To. )on de- age vecl lie us, the q~ri iich the gh, the and to rry ~ap- the 'in ire. )on Inst the Do ~vas de C de- in 0- of ct Is THE FATE. 473 ence might not have sufficed to confer upon him this authority, were it not that th~y were instinctively impressed by himself by the great injuries which had made him the incarnation of that wild - revenge which the red men so much love and honor, and by his unquestionable ability as a commander. He, hi~nself, seemed to take their lead as a matter of course. He neither asked them nor himself in respect to the matter. He willed, and they submitted. He pointed with his finger hither or thither, and they sped. They saw his purpose in his look. They took their directions from his eye and hand; and there was that of the ter- ribly savage in his fearful glance, and so much of the sublimely fearful in the~embodied woe which seemed to speak in every silent look and gesture, that to submit and obey was the voluntary im- pulse of all who looked upon the noble outlaw. The one purpose which Occupied his mind, sufficed to concen- trate all his faculties. The Spaniards now began daily to expe- rience the influence of a will and a power which threatened them with the greatest dangers, the more formidable, as it was still im- possible to conjecture what shape the danger was to take, or when and where the blow was to fall. An ominous gloom seemed to hang upon their hearts. Superstitious apprehensions haunted their souls-a cloud seemed to hang upon their pathway, in no degree relieved by the courteous invitations of the great cassique, Tuscaluza. Weariness, exhaustion, daily toil and march, and continued disappointments, no doubt combined to render them especially sensible to such fears and doubts. But there were external evidences daily offered them which had their effect, also, in compelling and arousing their superstitious fears. The red men seemed to have altered their whole policy. They hovered about the advancing army, but without coming to blows. They no longer rushed out boldly from beneath the forest trees, in groups, or single men,~ challenging the invader to the crossing of the spears. But if they did not fight, they did not fly. There, in front, and flank, and rear, they might be seen to hover like so many threatening clouds, retiring into safety when approached,- not to be overtaken,-.-but still giving proofs that they were unre. taxing in that haunting watch and pursuit which they had b~gun from the moment when Vasconselos took command. It may be that De Soto and others suspected his presence and authority among the red men, and that a gloomy prescience, and vague terrors, were the result of this suspicion. To these feelings, each day added large increase. The Spaniards now longed for the strife; they felt how much easier and more grateful it would be to bring this annoyance to prompt and desperate issue, which vexed page: 474-475[View Page 474-475] 3 ~ASCONSELoS. TIlE FATE WITH TUSCALUZA. their pride and perpetually troubled their s~ci1rit strove for this in vain. Many were the eflbrts wi to beguile the savages to battle,-to ensnare them to run them down with their mounted men; b generalship of the Portuguese cavalier held them and they hung about the wearied Spaniards like c cious birds, sufficiently nigh to seize their prey offered, but at a safe distance from any danger. IJ needed in picking up son~e victim from the ranks Not a loiterer escaped the bow-shaft or the straggler invariably perished-pierced with sha brained with the heavy hatchet of stone, It wa aside into the covert; it was fatal to. charge be which offered immediate support. One newly of the red men seemed particularly ominous to They now addressed their shafts to the breasts rather than the cavaliers, and every now and ti steed fell a victim under the unexpected arro'~v, de unsuspected coverts where the assailants found shelter. Thus haunted, thus troubled with evil omens, the made its way into the thickly settled countries of t1 This people, under the sway of Tuscaluza, were posed of the choctaws, chickasaws, and the remu tribes. They were numerous, in comparison w: nations of the red men, and were as fearless an warfare as they were numerous. De Soto, in great towns and villages, did so with unusual pre mind was impressed evidently with a far greater 5( responsibilities and difficulties of his situation than had case before. His apprehensions and disquiet wer creased at this period by a new evil; an epidei among his troops, which was fatal to many. The~ with a low fever, which seemed to prostrate them~ the end of a very few days they perished; the skin death, becoming of a discolored and greenish hue, an emitting a fetid odor. A terrible fear possessed tI they were poisoned-that the subtle savages had maize, or the waters of the streams, with some veg of great potency. We may imagine the terror. that all hearts from a conjecture so full of horror. S Tameimes, however, suggested a native remedy for which was probably due rather to .exhaustion' and ~ fooct A ley, made from the ashes of a certain, rns. B ich the in am] ut the' in close buds c Then o aily di ~f the ii ruacana. p arro death ond thc adopted he Spa of the en son spatche impel Spanisi e Alab~ robabl' ants of th the practi nterin~ caution. ~nse of 1 ever be e great ic ap~ were stantly even their 1 e army mixed table I seized ome of the di nsatisfa herb, it they' made ush,.-... igilant hands, voira. ~casion ~y sue. vader. The V5, or O turn ranks policy iiards. horses, e fine [from table army mous. corn. other other ~ed in their Ills re- ~n the in- eared eized At efore odies that their oison upon their ease, ~tory and .475 mingled with their food instead of salt-of which they had none -was fbund to afford security against attack. But many of them perished of the disorder before the remedy was friade known. Tuscaluza met Dc Soto at one of his villages~, at some distance from his capital city. lie probably did not design that the Spaniards should penetrate to that place. But he did not 1no~4 the character of the invaders. The haughty chieftain welcomed the Adelantado in a truly m~oyal manner, with great show of forest state, and a dignity which might have 'furnished a model to the noblest sovereign of Christendom. His immense stature, erect carriage, haughty demeanor, perfect composure, insensibility to surprise of any kind, had the effect of awing the Spaniards into something like reverence, for a season. The Adelantado pre- sent~d him with a dress of scarlet, and with a flowing mantle of the same material. These he wore with a natural grace which showed him superior to the efforts of the artist. With his own towering plumes, he became the crowning and central figure, of right, amid the grand assemblage of native chieftains and steel- clad warriors by whom he 'was surrounded. The Adela~itado added to his gifts that of a horse also; though it was with great difficulty that a beast was found sufficiently powerful to endure the weight of so colossal a warrior; The courtesy of De Soto, his gifts and attentions we~re not. nupleasing to the haughty Cassique, and he cheerfully accom- panied them in a march of three days, to one of his first-class villages, called after himself, Tuscaluza. This village stood upon a peninsula of the Ahibama River. The river wa~ crossed with- ~ut difficulty, and the army encamped for the night in a beautiful valley, about a league beyond the place of passage. There was feasting and great state for some hours in the Spanish camp, and Tuscaluza was a guest at supper with the Adelantado. But when he retired, it was without the precincts of the camp, and tl~r~ Spaniards, though on the watch to discover his place of re- treat for the night, failed to trace his progress through the wild forests through which, with his attendants, he made his easy way. But there were other watchers more successful, and when Tuscaliiza entered his sylvan lodge, but two miles from the Spanish camp, he found the beautiful Princess Uo~alla, his own niece, awaiting him in the lodge; and seated upon a pile of bearskins, a stern, silent, savage-looking man, one of the pale- faced warriors, in whose grim aspect we recognize the once gentle, graceful, and courtly knight of Portugal. Co~alla threw herself upon the neck of Tuscaluza, an~ was page: 476-477[View Page 476-477] 476 VASCOKSELOS. welcomed with such a degree of fondness as Wa. consist nt with the pride and power of so haughty a monarch. He rec ved her with tenderness even, and she wept sweet tears upon t breast of him who had been the well-beloved brother of 'her mother. What fool was it who first taught that the red men la, ked the CHAPTER XLV. sensibilities of humanity.? But we must defer our further report to anoth r chap er. Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent." THE gigantic and haughty sovereign of the Alabamoi~s sensibly awed by the stern aspect which encountered him, v~ he turned from the beautiful .Co~t*1la to welcome to his abo~1e outlawed knight of Portugal. Stern self-possession, calm mi ible endurance--as significant of the big heart and the unyich courage-are among the master virtues of the red men. In b words, Co~alia had conveyed to her uncle the simple outline the fortunes of Vasconselos, as well as her own, since she fi~st come to a knowledge of the Spaniards. Tuscaluza had h( o compel his respect for the knight, and to secure gratitude and confidence in consideration of what he had done the Princess. But when he looked on Philip, he saw before] no ordinary warrior. He felt himself in the presence of a I of a terror and a power, the resources and purpose of wi he could instantly conjecture from the mixed aspect of con treated woe and vengeance which, confronted him. He wekom the knight, but the latter had no answer; and the savage pril who seemed at once to comprehend the nature and the neces of the cavalier, sate quietly beside him upon the bear skins, yielded himself composedly, while Co~alla proceeded to un the details of that long history which she had hitherto rendc him in the briefest possible manner. To one who should regard only the outer aspects of the man, the features of Tuscaluza betrayed not the slightest se of the impression which this narrative made upon his soul. the pride, anger, fierce hatred, and eager impulse to war? ~ not the less active in his bosom, because there were no ektei signs of their presence. At the close of the story, he simply i and threw off the scarlet robes with which De Soto had decor his person, cast them contemptuously upon the earthen floom his cabin, and, as he paced the apartment to and fro, he wal over the rich silks unheedingly. Then, after a brief interval stretched his hand out to Vasconselos. The latter took it ~ out a word, and rose. He laid his own hand upon his bre and said, in the Choctaw dialect "Philip is a warrior. He will fight the battles of the gi (477) let. was hen the lex- ling rief of had ~ard his for Imim rate mich cen- ned sity and fold ~red red cret But rere mal 'ose ted of ked he ith- ast, i'eat page: 478-479[View Page 478-479] Tuscaluza. Will the Cassique say to his warriors Philip, that we may drive the Spaniards to their h the sea "That we may drive them into the sea !" was 1 sponse, as the savage~.n~onarch again eagerly grasp the knight. He added-" Philip shall be a great c absu~qous. He shall have many warriors to go with I He shall show to the Black warrior of the Alaba may best feed on these Spaniards, and capture the upon which they ride." "It shall be done. Let Philfp be clad in the w r Alabamous, and bring him garments for a chief of I When Philip had spoken these words, Co9alla th about his neck. He did not return her caresses, into her face with a tender sadness, which for a mor the terrible expression from his visage. At this page Juan entered the apartment. Co~alla caug and instantly withdrew her arms from the neck of How subtle are the feminine instincts., The fo seemed to know that Juan looked not favorably sion which she felt for Philip. The page, mean from the glance of Tuscaluza, who, as he regarded stopped in his walk, exclaiming-" Hah !" Co~alla calmly bade the page enter, and explain with Vasconselos. "It is good," replied the Cassique, resuming his good; but let him go, till' one shall come to him master hath use for thee,' and his finger conveyed reactions to the page himself. With a sad, longing Philip-who did not seem to heed him, or, indeed, thing-Juan turned away, and left the hovel. It was then that Tuscaluza brought forth sundry of native furs and cottony the latter stained brightly the color of the nation, and crossed with bars of bl ner of Tuscaluza was thus designed, the bars of~ bh in number. These were presented to Philip, who r as a matter of ~course, with something of indifferen ner, white he stooped carefully and picked up the upon which Tuscaluza had so scornfully trampled. stored to the Cassique. "Why should the great warrior show to the Spar is angry, and cast his gifts upon the ground ~ Let guise the wrath. Let the great warrior rather 478 I his relation valk. md say~ the sar1 look to~ to heed ich gari with y~ e. Tin e being received e in his scarlett These I ~iard~ ti ~he rob4 ~ersuad 'It is 'thy re di- ~ards any- aents llow, ban- hree them man. obes e re- t he dis- the -Go! )HiGS ~hc fie I the h~ ief of rAin to bus rAghty '-paint Lie red 'ew her ~ut he 1 3nt sm momei .t his Vascon est Pr~ pon th~ hue, re' the int 478 VASCONSELOS. THE SPANIARDS MERRY. 479 ~Alow ~yond ~e re~ ad of C Al attic. w we )easts ~f the nen." arms )Oked othed t the [ance, selos. Lncess pas- oiled uder, 479 Spnniards that he is a friend; nor tell him when he means to The suggestion corresponded happily with the genius of savage warfare. "Good !" said the chief; resuming and shaking the robes, but without freeing them from the stains which they had already taken from the earth. When the next day, these stains were visible to the eyes of the Spaniards, the cavaliers enjoyed a pleas- ant laugh at the expense of the grim warrior: "lie drank quite too much of the Canaries last night, your Excellence," said Nuno de Tobar. "He hath been rolling down hill, and methinks hath had a taste of the river, which doubtless failed to relish after the wine." "Nay, SeiTior Nuno," was the reply, "he walked away with all the erectness which he showe5Lat the beginning." "Yes; but did you not see that he never trusted himself to the back of his horse. It was led off by one of his followers, afid he strode away on foot." "Yes; and had thine eyes but followed him as h~ sped, then wouldst thou have seen that his movement was solid and square, like a tower. He went not to the right nor to the left, till the great forests received him." "Then hath he had a brew of his own ere he slept, for verily. those stains of the scarlet are those of a man who hath wallowed upon the bosom of his mother, without knowing well what arms have embraced him. All these savages possess the art of making strong drink." "And upon that thou found'st thy argument for its necessity and justification. Go to, Seilor Nuno, and let not this heathen Prince suspect that you laugh at his weakness-if such it be~-for verily he is as proud and jealous of his state as ever was Lrwifer, when he had sway among the stars. Away to thy post, and see that thy detachment be in marching order!, Remember, he is not to suspect that there are guards upon his person." Such was the policy of the Spaniards. That of Tuscaluza, tutored as he was by Vasconselos_ was a few shades more pro- found. All that night these two chiefs communed together i~r the hovel; Co§alla, after a while, having retired~ Juan was k~pt in waiting, but in an adjacent cabin. We 'design that the strategic of the red men shall gradually unfold themselves. It is enough to mention here that Philip con- veyed to the Black Warrior a full idea of' the importance t~ the Spaniards of their horses, and the necessity of capturing them, or slaying them. He counselled the latter course as by faK the page: 480-481[View Page 480-481] 480 YASCONSELOS. best, but urged, in the meanwhile, that, in the cvei~t of a the scene of action should always be so chosen as %~ depr' cavalry oC all share in the battle. It was this coui sel that~ f determined Tuscaluza to conduct the enemy to o~i of his towns, named Mauvila. This was a walled town, nd is su to have stood upon the northern bank of the Alab ma, at nqw called ~hocta~y Point. The town of Mau ila occ noble plain. The ails were rude, being high e bankmi earth and wood, filled in between great forest tr es; th being fastei~ied in piles with vines and reeds, and he face ( wall being plastered with a thick coating of native clay o which hardened into smooth consistency in the sun and air defenses were slight, of course-such as strong rms an axes could hew down in short time and through hich th falconets of that day could have easily blown a cap cious o But the Spaniards were without artillery of any ki d. Sti had adequate implements for breaking their wa , if tin-i allowed them. The wall was pierced with loop-ho es for a and at certain moderate distances it was surmount ed by i ous towers,. each capable of holding a score of fighting There were but two gates, one on the east, the oth r on th side. In the centre of the village was a great squ re, or ground, around which the buildings were erected. These exceed a hundred in number, but they were mostly ast fort capable of containing entire tribes, from five hun red to hundred persons in each-great halls only, witho t room red men lodging together as in caravanserais. To this place, thus constructed, the Black War ior con his destined victims. He was accompanied by fe perso tenants, and no warriors. To this he had been counsel Vasconselos. But he had made preparations els where part which his followers had to play, and the con ciousne he was held a close prisoner by the very courteon knigh attended him, did. not lessen his purpose of giving the Spa such sauce to their supper as would effectually sp il their tites. When the vanguard of De Soto's army ap eared I the town, the Adelantado leading and accompanied y Tus a splendid array of the native warriors, flaunting n feath robes of fur and cotton, of various aud brilliant colors, forth to meet them. To these succeeded long line of be~ damsels-and they were beautiful though dusk -" dar comely" as was the maid who was sung by ihe e 'ring m Solomon the Wise.-These came forth with songs nd dan rude pipes of reed, the simple flutes of the region cymba THE FATE FOLLOWS. nflict, e the ilially Largest posed place led a its of wood )f the earth, The good small ening. ., they were 'rows, umer- men. west arade- id not 'esses, fteen the ucted al at- d by r the s that who iards appe- efore' luza, rs, In caine utiful but se of and 481' drums, made of the gourd, covered with skins tightly drawn, and long clarions, hollowed out ~of the soft woods common to the swamps. So far, all seemed to go as merrily as marriage ~bellsand~e Soto had 'no cause for apprehension; but he had some occasions for doubt, when, on entering the town, 'he found that; while ~e, himself, his officers and immediate attendants, were assigned a couple of the best houses of the place, his troops were to lodged in cabins without th~ walls. The great body of the arr~iy had not yet arrived, but followed on, somewhat too tardily, un- der the charge of' Luis de Moscoso. Flanging closely, but unseen, upon the steps of Moscoso-li~e a gathering thunder cloud that marshals its mighty legions on t~me very verge of the horizon-Philip de Vasconselos followed with a force of some three thousand warriors. A dozen times1 as he tempted by the heedless manner of Moscoso's march to d4rt upon him with his cloud of savages, and destroy him, if possible, before he could unite with De Soto; and long afterwards did he reproach himself with not having done so. Could he have seen the banneret of Don Baithazar de Alvaro flaunting amidst the gay array, he could scarcely have foreborne the effort. It was against Don Balthazar first, and De Soto next, that his con- centrated vengeance was directed. Neither of these wer~e pre- sent to stimulate his rage. Besides, he might mar the plot con- eluded upon with the Black Warrior, by anticipating the desig- nated moment, and some fugitives might escape on horsehac~, and convey to the very victims whom he sought, the intelligence which should enable then-i to guard effectually against'the attack. hungering, therefore, for the action, he was compelled to control himself and his red followers-no ?asy task-and which he, per- haps, never could have done but that he was supported by tl~e presence and authority of Co9alla, the Princess. She kept clo e beside him a~ he went, the two followed by Juan, with wild emo- tions of ft passionate love and anger mixed. The wretched bog! He, too, had his temptations, and more than once he found him- self meditating to lift his lance, and strike it into the back of the beautiful Princess, though with the certainty of immediate dea1~h himself; that he might end his pangs of jealousy forever. Veri- ly, they were great, and the tender devotion of the Princess to Philip, never suffered 4hem to sleep for a single moment. ~t wfts still a feminine consideration that restrained him. Uo4~v should his dying eyes meet the anger in those of Philip, wei~e he thus to strike '~ Tuscaluza had a considerable body of warriors with him at 21 page: 482-483[View Page 482-483] 482 VASCON~ELOS. Mauvila-possibly three or four thousand. Th other bodies collecting. The always extravagant s the Spanish and Portuguese authorities, by which sought to exaggerate the importance of the event the seeming losses of the Spaniards in the strug received with many grains of allowance. Let it Black Warrior was embodying, and had embodie ble humber of' warriors, quite enough to have de o mies-using his own language-had there been a their defences and armor. But the' Spaniards mail, covering the most vulnerable parts;- their tially exposed, their thighs and legs. The darts a but small marks. The savages, on the other h well have been naked. Their furs, beai- skins, an of hide, afforded no sort of protection from the bul leer, or even the sword-cuts, the lance-thrusts, the horsemen and archers. Philip de Vascons l well the greatness .of this inequality between th and felt that the very numbers of the savages, range, were rather hurtful than helpful in the acti valor of the red men was a danger, since they had n to appreciate their foes. He strove, in every pos by every argument, to teach this to the Black W favorite captain, without offending their self-este nately for them he succeeded but imperfectly. passions of Tuscaluza both operated fatally to pre and make him forgetful of all the counsels of t knight. It was early in the morning of the 18th of Oct Soto, with the Black Warrrior, and the vanguard army, entered the village of Mauvila. The tow seen, was strongly fortified, impregnable, indeed, t as were common to the experience of the red rangements of Tuscaluza for the disposition of hi such as to offend the military caution -of the Ad was advised, too, of other suspicious circumstanc duct of the red chief-of the gradual accumulatio dies of troops-of the collection of vast piles of w shafts and macanas-and of several missing soldie who had probably been 'massacred. De Soto wai anxious, but felt that it was necessary~ to tempo cowing of Moscoso with the main body of thm affected to be satisfied, and felt that he was safe had ,Tuscaluza in his custody. But~ the haught~ re wer tatem T h they and to le, aret flice ta ,a con i lured him y equa were c bces on d arro nud, nui even et of t id arro os kne comb thin a n. Th t yet 1 ible wa rrior, m.UIJ [he pri ipitate e Port hber h of the S n, as w o such a nen. s troops elantado es in t nof lar weapons C rs-stra s arouse rize uni army so long g spirit 488; still ts of . have . essen o be Lt the dera- sene- ity in adin par- s had ht as ields fusi- s of vtoo tants, ertamn very arned ~, and ad his fortu- e and vents guese it De anish have saults e ar- were He con- ,e bo- Swar, glers d and i'l the .He as he f the TaE RUPTURE. Sovereign precipitated the issue. They had scarcely entered the town when he signified to De Soto the abode which had been assigned him, while he indicated his own purpose to occupy ano- ther., But the Adelantado replied,.cavalierly perhaps-that he* did'not approve of the arrangement. " The BlIack Warrior will remain with me." The haughty soul of Tuscaluza then blazed out- " The Black Warrior is the king in all these countries. It is for him to command. 'It is. for all others to obey. The Spanish chief is at liberty to depart, but he must not pretend. to say to Tuscaluza, here shalt thou remain, or thither shalt thou go. Does sthe Spaniard hear ? Such is the speech of the Black Warrior." The moment wais not auspicious for a decisive reply to this speech, such as, under other circumstances, De Soto would have given. Tuscaluza waited for no answer to his words. He en- tered the dwelling which he had indicated as his own abode leaving the Spanish chief to find his way to the other. Th4t inl which he took shelter contained a thousand warriors. De Soto quietly proceeded to the dwelling appointed for his use, andl in- stantly sent out his officers to go secretly among his troopers, and command them to hold themselves in readiness for action. Meanwhile, he resolved, still to keep up4 the appearance of friends ship and cordiality. Breakfast being prepared, he sent Juan Ostiz, the interpreter, to invite the Black Warrior to his table. He was refused admittance, but his message was delivered, and the reply was civil-" The Black 'Warrior will come." 1 But the Black Warrior did not come. Some time elapsed, and Juan Ortiz was sent with a second message, receiving the same answer as before. The same result followed. There wvas a long delay; and again Juan Ortiz was despatchied with a third message. -Now, whether it was that the interpreter, vexed at his repeated miscarriages, became insolent in his tone and lan- guage, or whether the red men now found themselves read y for a change in theirs, must be a subject of conjecture ; but, when~ Juan Ortiz, standing at the door of the Sovereign, cried aloud to his subjects--" Tell Tuscaluza, that the food grows cold upon the table ; that the Adelantado awaits him, and sends to hinm to come forth at once,"-then the long suppressed storm broke ouit in fury. A r'ed warrior, sallied forth to the entrance, crying aloud, while his eyes flashed fire, and all his face was inflan ed with anger-. "Vagabond and robber, begone ! Is it. such as thou that darest clamor aloud at the doors of a great chief, crying, cohie page: 484-485[View Page 484-485] 484 VASCO~SBLOS. forth, come forth! Away to thy robber master, an~ say to that when Tuscaluza comes forth it is to destroy h~m. H vagabond !" And as Juan Ortiz, half frightened out o senses, sped away, he could hear the grim say .ge exe proudly-. "By the sun and moon! This is no longer to b~ borne. your weapons, warriors of Mauvila, and let us put end insolence of these wandering wretches !" The speaker was the great leader of the Mauv hans- general-in their own phrase, the Big Warrior. e had, them in a hundred conflicts. He had won fame an glory them all. His triumphs were about to end with is con Having spoken, he beheld a group of Spaniards ii the square, closely huddled together. Ther'~ were oth r Spani near at hand, but passing singly. He did not notice these, making a signal to one of his followers, a bow and 4Lrrows handed him. He seized the bow, threw back from Isis shoul the flowing mantle of skins which he wore, and was about if the arrow to the string, when his purpose ~~yas arre ted and mover~aents anticipated by the action of one of those ool, al ready ~nd prompt warriors, to whom constant strif has se to impart resolve and instantaneous action-one althaza Gallegos. The sword from this warrior, already ared in grasp, flashed in air the moment, when the Big War ioy gra the bow, and before the arrow could leave the stri g, the s blade was ranging through the vitals of the red an, who dead upon the spot. And thus commenced a conflict of a chs ter the most terrible and bloody, destined to para yze the tunes of Hernan de Soto. The fate which had be~n hove like a storm-cloud above his head, was swooping down at upon his victim. I im, ice, his tim To the ~eir lcd 'Gui ets. 'eat irds but rere lers ang his ays ved 'de his ped ai~p fell rae- for- 'no. 'last CHAPTER XLVI. "Ha I what'shout is this ?" Coriplaimue THE soup of the Adelantado that day was cooled uneaten. Scarcely had Juan Ortiz entered the dwelling which his master occupied, and declared his tidings, when the war-whoop rang throughout the village, echoed by five thousand vigorous voices. The warriors poured forth from a thousand unsuspectedvomitories. They slaughtered tl~e scattered Spaniards, as, heedless of their leader's order, they lounged about street and square. The latter fought, but vainly. They were driven from the town; numbers of the cavaliers saw their horses slain, shot down before their eyes; a loss which they held to be even more serious than of the soldiery. To slay the horses was especially the labor ofone large portion of the savages. To this had they been counselled by their chiefs, under instructions of Vasconselos. Unlucl~ily 'for themselves, this was almost the only part of his instructions which they seem to have remembered. But, for a time, their' successes were too flattering to suffer them to pause. The vanguard of the Spaniards expelled from their walls, several slain, many more wounded, more than thirty horses killed outright, or maimed for- ever, and the whole of the baggage of the invading army, with the single exception of one knight's effects; these were successes cal- culated to turn the heads of any savage people, ignorant of their enemy, and incapable of any true* estimate of the means by which they had won success. And such had been the advantages gained by the red men in their first demonstration against the Spaniard, at Mauvila. They had lost their general, the fierce hrave who had so summarily dismissed Juan Ortiz with defiance to his master, and who had perished under the sudden sword-thrust of Balthazar de Gallegos. His son, a noble young warrior, had perished also, in the eWort to avenge his death, but not before he had pummelled Gallegos about the head and ears with his bow, until the Spaniard was blinded with his blood, and stunned, almost to perishing, be- neath his blows. The gallant savage had in vain sent his arro~vs at 'the mailed bosom of the Castihian knight. In slaying lialf a score of Spaniards the red men had lost hundreds; but there was no lack of numbers to take their places, and they scarcely felt 48~ page: 486-487[View Page 486-487] 4868 YASCO~SELOS. their losses. It was not so with th~ white warriors, 'ho we too few, not to feel severely the loss of such a large roporti n of their whole disposable force. The result, whatever he ineq ality of loss, was a temporary triumph with the Mau ilians. hey had beaten the invader from their fastnesses, and theyw em possession of all the spoils of the field. They had also rel ased the captive Tamenes from the chains of their masters, ha put weapons into their hands, and thus more than rnajfle up f the number which had been lost by the battle to their r~nks. xu]t- ing in the successes which they had won, the red meh closed their -gates, displayed their spolia opima from the walls, and ru nir~g to and fro along the parapets, brandished their arm with e ulta- -tion, while the welkin rang with their wild shouts o triumph and defiance. Goaded with fury by what they saw, the Spanish hivairy ith- -out the walls, organizing themselves, rapidly dashe forwa d to the gates with the view of assailing them, or, at leas , for the pur- pose of covering the foot soldiers, who advanced w th their axes for this purpose. But the brave Mauvilians-too aliant, ager and exulting to observe a becoming prudence-n~ver su ered them to approach the gates, but leaping the walls in hun eds, resolutely took the-field, exposing their naked bosoixis fearl ssly to the superior weapons of the Castilians. A desperate confli en- sued: the numbers and reckless valor of the red en pr ving quite a match for the superior civilization of their f es, whil the struggle was confined to those who fought entirely on foot. Fi rce, indeed, was the affray. Mercy was neither asked or expe ted. The shafts of the savages answered to the lances of t~e Spani ds; the stone battle-axe and thundering macana did no~ recoil rom the sharp collision with the polished blade of the Toh~dan. I was only when~ the cavaliers of Spain dashed in to the support of heir comrades that the Mauvilians gave ground, and reti~eated t the cover of their fortress. Thither the moiruted men pursued t em, but were driven back by showers of stones and arrows fro the walls and loop-holes of the town. As they wavered and reco led, the Mauvilians again sallied forth, closing with the cavaliers, eiz- ing on their very bridles, grasping their lances, 1~earing t em from their hands, and clinging to the retiring horses i~ntil dra ged away hundreds of paces from the walls. Such a- conflict, val so inflexible, afforded but small encouragement to the ~iopes of the invader, and De Soto groaned over the tardy progl'ess of os' coso, and the absence of more than half his little army. In this manner had they fought, without decisive re~ults-..u less in favor of the Mauviians-for three mortal hours, ~rhen Lui de ISTALANA, THE "CHIEF THAT BROODS." 4a7 Moscoso made his appearance withthe main body of the spanish forces, and at once engaged in the melAe. But with his appearance in the field, - that of Philip de Yasconselos took place also. For a moment let us pause in this place, to say that none of the relations of this great event, as given by the Spanish and Portu- guese narrators, are to be entirely relied on. The history yirh~ch the lion might give of his achievements has yet to be written. The accounts of the white men are grievously confused and contradic- tory, for the simple reason that they labored to obscure. to mod- ify, and even to pervert the details whose results were so disas- trous to their progress, and, as they fancied, in their natio~~al pride and vanity, so discreditable to their arms. Now, the reader will please to understand that our version of the story is drawn chiefly from the narratives of the Mauvilians themselves, as contained in the celebrated MSS. of the Great lawa, or High Priest of Chick- asah, Golena Ithiopoholla, who wore the sacred symbols, some- where about the year 1619, only about 70 years after this event. The narrative is written on the bark of trees, in the Choctaw charac- ter, and, beating some few injuries from exposure and time (which do not affect it in the portions relating to the battle of Mauvila), may still be read in the keeping of my excellent red friend Mico Tus- kina Ithiopolla, a lineal descendant of the venerable Jawa, by whose hands it was written. Our account of the affair,~ ~rhich we modestly venture to assert is the only one deserving oP perfect confidence, is drawn almost entirely from this aticient and vera- cious chronicle. To resume from its pages: "Now had the battle lasted three mortal hours, wher~ another and a larger army of the Spaniards, under one of their great gen- erals, by name Luis de Moscoso; made his appearance in the field. He had been closely watched and followed during the march from Tuscaloosa by the white chief; to whom had been given the name of Istalana, and of whose cruel treatment by the Spaniards, and happy escape, by the help of the great Princess Co~alla, of Cofa- chiqui, we have already related the account. Istalana (or 'the chief that broods') led a force of three thousand brave warriors of Tuscaloosa and Cofachiqui, full command ovei~ whom had been given him by the Great King. Now, so soon as Istalana beheld the warriors of Moscoso preparing to join with the troops under Soto, the Castilian, and to advance against the walls of Mauvila, he set upon him suddenly, with a terrible assault from behind. Mo- oscoso was greatly astonied at this assault, for he knew not that he was so closely watched and followed. But he turned upon Istalana and his men and made good fight for the victory; and he was joined page: 488-489[View Page 488-489] 488 VASCONSELOS. j by the men upon the horses of Soto, the Castilian, and grea were the deeds of arms that followed, and many were the blows iven and received, and glorious was the slaughter. The earth a sun drank great streams of blood that day; and, for ~ th war- riors of Mauvila were too brave to need coverings for their breasts against the darts of their enemies, the slaughter fell most heavily upon them; while the Spaniards, being covered with scales of hard metal, or wrapped in many folds df a thici gar- ment, which shook off the shafts of the Mauvila warriors hen delivered from a distance, they suffered less gr~evous1y and many were but hurt and wounded, when, but for reason of their armor of metal, they would have died outright. But the an- vilians hurt and smote them sorely, and bruised them with any blows, so that none of them utterly escaped, while many ere slain with shafts rightly delivered between the eyes, and, hen they chanced to turn their backs, with arrows that drove th ugh the body beneath the shoulders and rested against the m ailic plates in front. Hundreds carried with them grievous w unds in the legs and thighs, which were less sheltered b~ armor ;~ and wherever the warriors of Castile and Mauvila strove tog ther hand to hand, th~ one with bright sword shining ir~ the su ,the other with the heavy macana, or the thundering stone ha het, then did the armor prove no~ help, but rather a hurt to the hite warriors, and they fell crushed beneath the blows of Mauvila and they fled before the might of her warriors. And great wa the destruction of the strange beast which they call the hors , of whom the Spaniards took great account, and, for which re son, th~ warriors of Mauvila smote and slew them without spa lug. Verily, they slew more than seventy of these giant beasts i the course of the day's fighting, sending the arrows right thr ugh their huge bodies, so that the feathers only lay hidden in the bowels of the beast. "And when the warriors within the walls of Mauvila, vho were commanded by the great king himself; beheld how tha the Spaniards were set upon by the troops of Istalana from be 'md, then did he rise and cry aloud: "'Now is the time for ye to go forth, ye warriors of Mau ila, and all the followers of the great king! Now send ye up the great shout of war which leads to victory, and get ye out om the fortiKess to the fight, while your women, and the y ung daughters of Mauvila gather upon the walls and cry to ye ~th words of love and welcome, and sing the while sweet song, of victory and vengeance! Now to your arms! and go forth and fight against the Spaniards from the walls, while Istalana, the TRIUMPHAL SONGS OF MAUV~ILA. 489 white warrior, who is our general, deals death upon them from behind!' "'And they went forth, even as he commanded, with a mighty whoop of victory, which shook the earth and struck terror to the hearts of the pale faces. And the Spaniards, who rode the mighty horses, rushed together, like a great hurricane, between the war- riors of Mauvila, who came forth from the fortress, and the foot- soldiers of the chief Moscoso. And they rushed over many. of our people, and they trampled them under the iron hoofs of the mighty beasts; but the rest parted each way front before them, then closed behind them as they sped, delivering swift arrows that pierced the beasts to the bowels, and pierced the riders to the brain, so that they rolled together in sore agony, and with previous cries upon the stricken earth. And even as the War- riors of Mauvila sank down beneath their beasts, other braves darted hotly forth to take their places, and it gladdened the big heart of the great king that day, to behold with what a joy his braves died for his honor, and to save his country from the Spaniards. Verily, it is too much to tell; for they alone who saw could truly report what glorious deaths were that day given and received, and how the blood gushed from the big heart, and the brains of brave warriors were beaten out, and how the bowels of the mighty beasts fell down at the sharp passage of the lance and knife; for the cunning warriors of Mauvila, while they lay wounded beneath the horses, smote them suddenly under their great bellies. And then the beasts grew maddened, and they fled swiftly as the arrow flies, with a horrid scream, and grievous groans, the bowels trailing as they sped, until they could fly no more, and rolled over their riders, the chiefs in armor, whom they crushed beneath their own weight. And at every horse thus slain the women and the maidens upon the walls of Mauvila made a new song of rejoicing. And they sang- "'Great is the Brave of the Mauvilian who hath slain the mighty beast of the pale faces. "'He shall be named the Slayer of the Beast forever, and there shall be a totem for his bosom, with the picture of the beast. "'And his name shall be sung forever by the maidens of Mai~- vila; and the warriors shall go ever into battle with a cry upon his name. "'Verily, he shall pass the blue mountains upon the spirit of the beast that he hath slain. He shall hunt in the Happy Val~ lies on the body of the beast; and when he enters the lodge of the Great Master of Souls, then shall a voice welcome him with a cry, saying, make way there-give place all of ye, for hither' 21* page: 490-491[View Page 490-491] 490 VASCONSELOS. TUE RED CAVALIER, 491 comes the warrior that bath slain the Great Beast of if Faces.' "'Verily, as the Mauvilian hearkened. to this song, gre the desire of many to become the slayer of the beasts wh parishh warriors rode. Yet there wer~ some who sought to take them captive; for wherefore should the warriors c vila not bestride them, even as the Castilians? But the: number preferred to slay them, for they knew not b~ words to make the beasts. know their masters, and they the danger from their heels, and they wist not how tc them in their flight. So they slew them, whenever they save in few cases, when, as was the cou~'isel of the chief I they caught them by their bridles after they had slai riders, and led them off into the thickets. "Now, Istalana, the white warrior, himself had one o beasts, upon which he made to ride a strange boy who f him in silence-a creature black as the great bear of Noli But, when the battle drew nigh, and when he was abou upon the troops of Moscoso, he bade this black boy take with the Princess Co~alla in the thicket, which was at ha where many harbored close unseen.4 And Istalana rais self with a single bound upon the back of this beast; and str&ng~th9ngs of bear skin with which to guide him; and chair of bear skin, with horns, but without feet, was benea and upon the back of ~he beast. And Istalana armed with a long lance which he had made, thrice as great an as that borne by our people. And he carried besides battle axe of metal which had been taken from the Sp~ And, thus armed and mounted, he prepared to ride into tle even, as the Spaniards rode. But first, he put largE of our warriors in ambush, close in the woods, but bes field of battle; and he bade them not show themselves gave them command to do so. And he led but one thirt Mauvilians into battle against Moscoso, being but a ti men.' And to these he gave command that they should scatter themselves; that they should shelter themselves~ the trees, wherever these stood, and thus escape the wrati mighty beasts, whom they were to transfix with their arro~ he taught them truly, moreover, to aim their darts onl~ faces and the thighs of the Spaniards, for 'Verily,' 'What matters if you slay them not outright. Worn only, so that they shall become disabled, and how easy run in and brain them with the hatchet of stone.' Ai truth, had they followed this counsel of Istalana, then ha 4 Pale t was ch the rather Mau. greaterr what feared guide could, Ialana, their these Ilowed hucky. to set shelter id, and d him- he had ~ great ;h him, himself heavy ~ great niards. he bat. bodies de the Liltil he of the ousand ~reat1y beneath of the ~. And at the ~id he, d them then to d, of a not SO many great warriors of Mauvila fallen on that day. But it was in the wildness of their valor, which suffered them to fear no danger, that so many of them yielded their naked life to the ~1eath shaft of the Spaniard. "Now, it was even in the moment when the Spanish warriors who rode were trampling down the braves of Mauvila, striving to keep them back from the conflict which had begun between the troops of Istalana and Moscoso, that the chief Istalana ap- peared in front, mounted on one of the great beasts of the Span- iards. Verily, the beast was of a beautiful strength and majesty, and he had a name with his master, and he was called Bajardo. And when the Spaniards beheld the beast-thouo'h they, knew nothing of the great chief Istalana, (for he was no longer of the pale sickly color of the white men~ but had been made comely by the war paint of the Mauvilians, and he wore feathers of the birds of Mauvila and Apalachia, and a robe off saffron-cotton of our people, and upon his shoulders a rich robe of fur which the Great King had given hiir~ whcn he made him a chief; )-when, J say, the Spaniards beheld the beast, they said one to another, 'Is not that Bajardo, the horse which was ridden of old by the Blackamoor Juan, the Page of the knight of Portugal P And they answered, 'Verily, it doth seem so. Yet bath he long been missing.' "But they saw nothing of the Blackamoor, and they knew not the knight of Portugal, in the costume and the war paint of the Mauvilian. And the knight of Portugal, now the chief Istalana, rode forth towards the warriors of Spain, even to where was seen, making great show above the rest, the chief, Soto, of gas- tile, their general and great warrior. And Soto and his v~rar~ riors marvelled much when they saw a red warrior of MauVila so gallantly riding towards them; and they wondered more when they saw him shake out his lance in defiance, waving it towards Soto himself, and, in the manner of the pale warriors, thus~seeming to bid him come to the conflict. And the captains and chiefs around Soto were angry,, and they said, 'Let us go and punish this insolent savage ;' but Soto said- "'Nay! It is for me to punish his insolence!' And he rode forth alone, a little ahead~ of tfle rest; and, seeing this, Istalana said to the Mauvilians- "'Get ye back all, and leave Soto, of castle, to me. Only see that others come not between us. If I slay him, or ye see me overthrown, then fall fiercely upon the chiefs that follow' him; and heed ever the things that 1 have told ye.' "And the warriors of Mauvila fell back. And Istalana pre.. page: 492-493[View Page 492-493] 492 YASCONSELOS. p ared himself for Soto, though he carried no weapon b~it the heavy lance, and the great axe of metal, such as the Spa~iar~~ bore. And he had no armor upon his limbs, and he wo~re no buckler upon his arm. And he went unafraid to the enequnter with Soto, of Castile. And Soto came on briskly, with his lance couched for the encounter, and he little wist of the enemy who stood before him; and knew not bitt that ~it was a brave flative warrior of Mauvila; for he saw thafithey were a people the most daring of all the world, who were willing to fight with any foe, auci with any weapons, or according to any fashion. And knowing this, Soto said within himself- "'Now2 verily, these warriors of Mauvila have a world of impudence. Here is a savage that hath gotten him a beast which he knows not how to manage, yet would he undertake the warfare with me after my own fashion. Yet, in sooth, he keeps his seat with a tolerable grace and steadiness, and with proper teaching might be rendered a right comely and formida- ble cavalier. Yet shall I have to punish him with a death thrust, that I may rebuke the overweening presumption of his people.' "And so thin king and speaking to himself; Soto, the Castil- ian, spurred his beast forward to the meeting with Istalana, who, nothing loth, or slow, made his beast go to meet him, with a great rushing. And the two leveled their long lances, and there was a great cloud that wrapt them; and lo, when the cloud lifted, there could be seen Soto, the cavalier, falling upon the ground, and Istalana wheeling his great beast backward, and making towards Soto, with his lance ready to do him to death with a thrust." CHAPTEfl XLVII. "Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery Against these saucy walls." KING JOHN. WE have given a sufficient specimen of our Choctaw chronicle for a while. Relying on his authority as heretofore, we shall y forego the stately simplicity, and the quaint solemnity of his styl as far as possible in the future, and trust to that which is mm natural to ourselves and readers. We need repeat, after th sample of our authority, that his account is the most trustwort of all the parties; and our materials will show that he supplies thousand deficiencies, in the details, which the vexed vanity of t Spanish invaders would never allow them to put on recor We proceed now to our history. The fall of De Soto occasioned naturally a tremendous sens tion. The wild exultation of the red men rang throughout t field as for a victory already gained, and a most unexpected t uruph rendered certain. The A delantado of the Spaniards xv considered by the simple native~ in the light somewhat of a go man-a demi-god, who was in some degree invincible, or 11 Achilles, only vulnerable in some small region not easily reached by dart or tomahawk. They~were now disabused, of this supe station, and their spirits rose in consequence to the highest pitc of hope and enthusiasm. They knew not but that he was a ready slain; at least, he was in the power of their champion; tin seemed certain, and a single stroke of the terrible lance whk Vasconselos carried was alone needed for the coup de grac Istalana, now doubly glorious, and a favorite in their eyes, seeme prepared to satisfy their expectations. Wheeling about to r turn to the charge, his lance was couched, and the vulture, con missioned by the fates for his destruction, already threatened L Soto with the consummation of his doom. But the Spanish chivalry were not prepared to suffer the co queror to complete his work of vengeance. They had seen ti fall of their governor; and, with a mixed howl and shout, the g~ lant cavaliers who had attended him, and who had only remain a short distance from the scene of the passage between hinise and Istalana, now dashed forward to his rescue. They were ju in season. Our Portuguese Mauvilian was already upon 1 r C y a C 1. 1- 1- L5 C d h t h d e e 1- d f I; S page: 494-495[View Page 494-495] 494 VASOONSELoS. enemy. De Soto who had succeedQd in recovering his feet, had drawn his sword, and was ~ready to defend himself. "Hernan de Soto," cried Vasconselos, to the complete aston.. ishment of his opponent, "thy hour is come!* The doom for thee is written! Thou shalt die beneath the hand and curse of the man thou hast basely dishonored !" He knew the voice. He could no longer doubt the person. "Philip de Vasconselos !" "Ay! and thy fate! Prepare thee !" "I fear thee not, renegade and traitor !" "Ha! thou shalt feel me !" And the lance was couched at his breast. De Soto raised his sword in defence. Philip would have sprung from his steed and encountered him on more equal footing with the battle-axe, but ju t then the rush behind him required him to guard himself. Th Spanish knights were upon him. There were Nuno de To- ba and Balthazar de Gallegos, and many others. Philip gave the rowels to Bajardo. He dashed through the thick array. Go zalo de Sylvestre was rolled over upon the earth; Alonzo de Pi os was reached by ~e lance which failed to slay him, but kno ked out several of hi front teeth, and greatly disfiguring his moi~th, spoiled the prettiest face in the army. Others were handled only less roughly, and thundering through them as the great buffalo thunders through a forest of prairie dogs, the won- derful cavalier of the red men broke away from the network of foes which for a moment seemed to threaten him with captivity or death.' His forest followers were not idle. The warriors of Mauvila launched themselves, with desperate valor, into the thickest of the wild array, and the battle, with all its terrors, was resumed on every side. It raged with no abatement for more than an hour, and with no seeming change of fortune. Many of the Spaniards perished; many of their horses. Hardly one escaped without ~Mounds; but the naked red men suffered death, and not wounds, with every hurt. More than a thousand had perished in the strife, when Istalana, whose plans had been wholly baffled by the impatient pride and haughty valor of Tuscaluza and his general, succeeded in drawing off a portion of his forces to the shelter of the forest, into recesses where the horses could not pursue, and whence the arrow could be shot with unerring and unexpected aim. The red men disappeared almost in the twinkling of eye, leaving the field strewn with their bodies. Co9alla was the first to receive Vasconselos. But where was Juan? Philip looked about him with inquiry. The page was 494 0- TENDER PASSAGES. dust and blood of the field. behind him carrying bow and arrows, and was covered with t "AhI boy; and I bade thee not'?" said Vasconselos reproa fully. "I saw them as they surrounded thee, Sefior, and I could longer remain away." Philip smiled sadly on the Moor. But when he looked second time on Co~alla, he beheld that she toQ had had shared t dangers of the fray. She had been more fortunate than Ju and had been wounded in the arm. Oh! what were the pa of that~ young attendant when he beheld Vasconselos take t beautiful arm of Co~alla into his hands and carefully help t bind up the still bleeding limb., The hurt was fortunately slig But it was a wound received in his defence~ and, more fortune I stillit was.an arrow from her bow that stuck in the thigh De Soto himself; giving a painful wound, which would ha driven trom the field that day any cavalier of merely ordina courage. Yasconselus had seen, before the action was over, t De Soto was hurt. He saw it by his riding, though he ~tnew the nature of the wound. Little did he dream what hand h sent the shaft. When he did know, when he conceived fully t page and princess had both gone forth to his rescue the mom that they beheld his peril, the heart of the melancholy kni was very full. No tears gathered in his eyesb He had forg ten how to weep; but never did eyes declare such tender e tions; and he looked from Juan to Co~alla, and he took hand of the princess and kissed it, while he drew the trembli Moor to his bosom, and said to him fondly- "Boy, thou shalt evermore be brother to me. I have other brother now but thee." Andres de Vasconselos had been one of the cavaliers wh ranks that day he had so fiercely broken through. Bt~t he h raised no lance against that young kinsman's bosom. Juan trembled with terrible emotions as, for the first tin: he was strained so warmly to the breast of his lord. He V that the heart within him was like a molten sea-all fire, tears, scalding and streaming, but ready all the while to bre through all barriers and be poured out like water on the san But the tenderness was for a moment only, and even while t knight strained the Moorish page to his bosom, the Princ Co~alla interposed, and laid her hand first, and then her he upon his shoulder, and said in the most melting manner- "Ah! Philip! Ah! brave Philip." But, just then, Juan cried out with a change of feeling a t. re at Ld at at lit 0- lie rig se ad C' It 11 5. ss page: 496-497[View Page 496-497] 496' VASCONSELOS. "Oh! Senior, thou art wounded." The red stain was apparent through the white cotton of his vest. The garments were sticking to the wound upon his bosom. "Let it remain," said Philip, as page and princess, now both excited with fear, proposed to attend the hurt. "Let it remain. It is nothing, and now bleeds no longer." It was but a flesh-wound made by the partly spent shaft from a cross-bow. He had pulled out the arrow during the fight, and, pressing the garments upon the wound, had succeeded in stop- ping the flow of blood. There was no time noW for surgery. The Spaniards had renewed the action, and Istalana was required ~to go forth again. Furious with the sanguinary courage of the Mauvilians, con- scious of the peril which awaited his own and the fortunes of his army, and mortified deeply with the disgrace of his overthrow in the sight of foes and followers, Hernan de Soto only de1~yed the ~action long enough to enable his followers to recover from ex- haustion. It was necessary to obtain possession of the town. There his people would find shelter and provisions, both of which they began to need. There had the red men stored their supplies for the winter. Several of the houses were great granaries of maize, beans, and potatoes. There, too, were their great armo) ries-arrows, arrow-bolts, and macanas, darts, and stone hatchets. To possess himself of these, was to supply his own soldiers, and greatly to impoverish and enfeeble the red men. There, too, ex- ulting in his savage pride and power, was the hateful and insolent Tuscaluza, the only cassique among the native princes who had ever shown himself really formidable to the Spaniards in Apa- lachia, up to the present moment. All his passions and all his reflections conspired to goad him to the most desperate efforts to make his way into the fortress of Mauvila. To remain without, exposed to the perpetual assaults of thousands of enemies, spring- ing up in the twinkling of an eye, and melting away as suddenly into their great forest shelters, was a prospect that threatened nothing short of ruin. But it was necessary to plan the attack upon the fortress with. a due regard to the thousands who guarded it, and of the other thousands who swarmed throughout the forests in his rear. The latter, too, were led by one who knew equally well what was pro- per to the warfare of the red men and the Spaniards. Bitter and savage were the moods which possessed De Soto as lie thought of Philip de Yasconselos. "ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH." 497 "And I have fallen beneath his lance this day; and, but for my foil wers, I had been slain by the very man whom I had doomed o dishonor and left to death !" His g oomy musings were interrupted by the entrance of several f his cavaliers, Nuno de Tobar and Andres de Vascon- selos a ong them. He was about to declare the secret which he alone possessed, that of the identity of the red warrior Istala- na with he outlawed knight of Portugal. But the sight of An- dres, an the recollections of the old affectionate intimacy be- tween T~bar* and Philip, led him to a prudent secrecy. "No!' said he to himself. "Not yet! Let them once know that Phi~ip lives, and that this is he-remembering too that he bath bee wrongly doomed-and will they strive so bravely against h m? will they not, rather this brother of his, strive in his behal ? May he not go over to him? May he not carry others? In the moment of disaster, who clings to an old leader'? What n mbers will gladly seize the moment to pass into the embraces of the successful party? And know we not that many have sou ht occasion to drop away upon the march, and giving with the e savage women to grow to power among' the tribes? No! no! I mt'st hush and hide this damnable discovery close in the he rt, where it only works to torture." Such w re the brieg hurried, and natural, but unspokeri~ thoughts which oc urred to the Adelantado, when he beheld his knights enter to r ceive their orders. De Soto could not throw off the savage gi om that possessed his soul and filled his countenance, but he ga e it an expression of swift ferocity. "Well, seniors, you are ready. It is time. Let us now to work, wit all our soul and strength, to scourge these savages to the utter ost. Before the sun shall set this day, we must be in in possess on of yonder fortress. If we fall, our day has ended! Do you h ed me, all? While this sun lasts we must conquer yon town, and hold it in possession. Yonder forests,"-~and he shuddered as he pointed to them-" harbor ten thousand ene- mies, hate ul and hating us, without pity or affection; with num- bers dest~ ed to hourly increase, pouring in ever as the vultures throng ab ut the carcass. Let us go forth." They w re soon in full array, and in the field. De Soto had already m tured his plans. He had detailed the greater and bet- ter portion of his cavaliers for the defence of his rear, while a chosen bo y assailed the for1~ress. The horsemen were particu- larly reser ed, the better to avoid the shafts shot securely from the walls. They were appointed to that better service upon the page: 498-499[View Page 498-499] 4~'8 ~VASOO~'SELO3. plain in which the, steed can exercise the chief faculty, that of fleetness, 'which confers upon him his peculiar uses in war. The battle was resumed. Tuscaluza and his warriors prepared for the Spaniards along the walls. Istalana led forth his troops from the forest, and against their rear. He was encountered by the picked chivalry of De Soto which, in separate bodies of teu men each, occupied the plain in their front, and, cased in armor-. all the vital parts protected except the eyes-offered but 'small marks for the archery of the red men, while in their successive charges they swept down hundreds. The horse was more vul- nerable, however, though some pains had been taken to protect him in the more exposed and sensitive regions of his body. Ista- lana, or, as we shall henceforth prefer to call him, Vasconselos, aimed at two objects-to bring his troops, only as archers, into full play, and at the same time to cover them as much as possi- ble with the trees of the forest froni the sweeping charges of the horsemen. But, if he kept the cover of the forest wholly, he failed to reach the cavalry with his arrows, the plain being of * such extent; and not to drive them from it, was to leave the garrison without succor, or diversion, to endure the whole weight of De Soto's assault. He accordingly prepared to throw a body of five hundred active warriors, good with spear and 'battle axe, between the detachment of cavalry in front of him and the forces with which De Soto assailed the walls, while the rest of his troops, covered as much as possible by the forest, kept the horse in full employment with their arrows. He, himself, on foot, prepared to lead his~spear-men into the thickest of the fight, and between the two divisions of the Spanish army. "And now," saith our 'old Choctaw chronicler, "the glorious fight began once more, with a shock as of many thunderbolts. And Soto, of Castile, led his great men close up against the walls of Mauvila; and the great king confronted him there with a terrible flight of arrows; and with heavy stones he drove him back from the fortress. And when Soto, of Castile, was thus driven back, he fell upon the warriors of the great chief Ista- lana, and very terrible was the battle that ensued between these mighty men of war. But, though many of the Spaniards were slain and more hurt, yet, by reason of the armor of tough metal which they wore, many escaped, who else had been done to death, by the valiant strokes o~ Jst~dana and his spearmen. These, on the other hand, being all men of naked valor, w~e sore stricken by the Spanish bolts and darts; and the wise chieftain, Istalana, ,when that he beheld how the battle went against his MANY WERE SLAIN. 499 people, e drew them cunningly away from between the ranks of the S aniards, and gave them shelter for a season among the great tre s of the forest. And De Soto, of Castile, again strove with the great king against the walls of Mauvila, and his axe-men toiled to cut though the walls, and to beat down the gates of the fortress; and a second time were they driven back, sorely smitten, because f the heavy stones delivered from the fortress. And again d~d the brave Istalana 'give battle to the retreating Spaniard , and to those who fought from the backs of the mighty beasts. ud the battle went now one way, and now the other, and, for season, neither party prevailed in the conflict. But great wa the loss, and grievous the blows of blood which were delivered on both sides among the champions. And, among the people o Mauvila, there was great slaughter. Many cassiques of fame erished in valiant agonies, crying to the gods to open the blue ansions in the happy valley, and to send for them the bright m idens, each bearing a cheering bowl to quench the thirst of the w aried spirit. The mighty Oolenoe Ifisto was the first to fall, h ing slain many foes. Then Chinabee Himantla gave up the g ost, wearing more than thirty scalp locks upon arm and thig ; and there were many more, brave like these, who sang that day the song of the last fight. And many other great chiefs we e stricken and hurt in the fighting of this day. -Istalana, the great hief himself, was stricken twice, but he said nothing of his hurts, while he gave death, to other men to drink, sorely against th will of him who hath no thirst. "But i was not only to the chiefs of Mauvila that the hurts and the death were given. The Great Chief of the Spaniards, Soto of Castle, fe t the sharp arrows in his thigh and side; but he was not slain. T e lying prophet of the pale faces was scored with~a fly- ing shaft, ike a coward, in the back. But he lived, that men might say this is the mark of one who fled. And there was a goodly yo th, a kinsman of Soto, of Castile, one whom they ball. Carlos, w ose throat The arrow filled, so that he never called for drink agan. And many were the warriors and chiefs besides, for whom they made bitter moaning that night in the camp of the Spani rds. "But t e truth demands that I declare, that, on the third as- sault upon the walls of Mauvila, the warriors of Soto, of Castile, prevailed. And they prevailed by reason of the fact, that the Great Kin was hurt with a lance that entered his bosom even where he strove with a great warrior at the gate of the fortress. And when the warriors of Mauvila beheld the Great King fall, they sent ~ip a mighty cry. Anithe women, with foolish tongues, page: 500-501[View Page 500-501] ~OO YASCONSELOS. spread it along the walls and through the town, that the Great Eling was slain, even Tuscaluza; but, of a truth, it was not so. Grievous was his hurt, and glorious, since it was made upon his' open breast, in full front, and even in the moment when, with his mighty stone-hatchet, he clove the brain of a great warrior of the Spaniards. But, nevertheless, men thought him slain; and when his people bore him away from the gate to a place of safety without the walls, and into the forests on the other side-as was counselled by the prophet-then the women lamented, and the foolish warriors broke their weapons and lied from the walls which they were bade to defend, and went hither and thither, not knowing what to do; and, by reason of this folly, the followers of Sot~, of Castile, broke their way through the walls,, and beat down the gates, and their great captains, on their mighty beasts, rode headlong through the streets of Mauvila, smiting as they went. Then was it too late, when our warriors hastily caught up their arms, and renewed the fight. "And the women ~f Mauvila strove, too, in the ranks of battle, ~ and very great and glorious wa~ the slaughter. But the Spaniards prevailed in battle against our people, and when this was beheld by the ilKave women* of Mauvila, they seized bright torches of the living flame. And they gave it wings; and they, sent it from housetop to housetop; and they hid it away in the hearts of the houses. And where they had their husbands slain, they flung themselves into the burning houses, and they wel- comed the coming of the Spaniards with arms of flame, waving them on, as they passed 'over the walls and through the gates with songs of triumph and defiance. It was a day of rich blood. And the people of Mauvila left for the Spaniards only a feast of famine, and music of agony and groans, with a raging fire to quench the thirst which they knew, from eating at such a banquet. The brave Tuscaluza, the son of the Great King, was slain ; but the Great King himself was made safe in the big forests lying toward Chickasah. Thither came also the mighty chief Istalana, who had previous hurts upon his breast, upon his face, upon his arms and side. Sorely was he stricken; and they brought him upon the shoulders of the Tamenes toward Chickasah, and the princess Co~alla, of Cofachiqui, tended him, while he lay hurt, and the strange black page, Juan, watched be. side him nightly when he slept." CHAPTER XLVIII. "He bears A tempest which his mortal vessel tears. PERICLS. SUCH w s the terrible battle of Mauvila. The Spaniards had obtained t ~e victory. They had won the chief fortified city of the Mauvi ians. They had expelled the inhabitants or destroyed them. Th sands of the redinen had perished-not so many, by thousand s, as the conquerors claim to have destroyed, but still the havoc had been terrible, and the victims were five times as numerous s the whole army of ID~ Soto. The rash valor of the Mauvilians their naked bosoms,, the superiority of the Spanish arms and rmor, had naturally rendered the defeat a massacre! But the triumph of the invaders was dashed by their own terrible los es, and De Soto lamented his victory in the language of Pyrrhus. Nay, it did not require such another victory to leave the Cpstili n ~onqueror undone. He was already undone, and he felt it. The gloom of despair was on his soul. His fac~e wore a perpetual scowl. His language was harsh to all when he spoke. H was no longer the confident, frank, impulsive cava- lier, who c uld sweetly smile upon his friends, and who bore in' his bosom n exulting hope and consciousness of desert, which filled all w o beheld with unvarying auguries of success. He was now st in, savage, suspicious; distrustful of friends and for- tune; with the mortifying conviction that he had not only failed, in the grea hopes which had inspired his enterprise, but doomed to other fa ures, involving fame as well as fortune; perilous to life as to s ccess. He thought of the noble woman, his wife, left behind hi in the Government of Cuba, and bitterly remembered that betwe n her and himself rolled the great sea, and between that sea an his warriors, spread hundreds of miles of impene- trable fore t, every thicket of ~which harbored its hosts of im- placable a d sleepless enemies. 'And as t e details of his real condition met his ear, the gloom grew deep r upon his visage and within his soul. Very wretched was the co edition of the Spaniards after the battle of Mauvila. Moire than two hundred of them had been slain or put hors de corn~at. S arcely a man had escaped entirely unhurt. De Soto 501 page: 502-503[View Page 502-503] 502 VASCONSELOS. himself was thrice wounded, and though not, in either instance, severely, yet the hurts were of a sort to goad, to mortify his passions, and to vex his pride. We have secrn, what were his personal humiliations also. But he was not allowed to brood on them. Th~ condition of his army demanded all his thoughts. His soldiers, covered with wounds, were attended by a single surgeon, and he was at once slow and unskilfui. There was neither lint, nor linen, nor liniments; neither medicines w)r bandages; neither ointments nor instruments; not even clothing and shelter. The fires of the wild Mauvilians had consumed all the stores of commissary and surgeon-all the food and physic- all that was needful fbi' the healthy, no less than the suffering and sick. The dwellings were all consumed, and but a poor shelter was found in the miserable tents of boughs and branches, which could be raised by the feeble efforts of the least wounded among the Spaniards. For bandaging wounds, they tore the shirt~ from their backs; to procure unguents for the hurt, the slain I~idians were torn open, and the fat taken from their bodies; the slain horses were cut up and their flesh preserved, for sustenance for all. Even their devotions were interrupted, in the loss of the wine and wheaten" flour which they had used in the performance of the mass; and to the superstitious, the question became one of serious importance, whether bread of Indian meal might be em- ployed for the sacrament,-a question gravely discussed aihong them, and terminating in the unfavorable resolve, that it was not tolerated by thi~ canons of the church. When to the real physical miseries of their situation,~we add those of their spiritual hunger, we may conjecture the terrible gloom which overspread the en- campment of the Spaniards. This gloom of his followers was naturally of deeper and darker complexion in the soul of De Soto, than it was among his people. His had been the loftiest ambition, the most exulting hope. His pride, and station, and responsibility, were greater than all the rest. He was proportionately overwhelmed in the common catas- trophe. He was utterly unmanned by his reverses. Not that he was unwilling to fight and peril himself as before; but that he was no longer able to control his passions, and hide his infirrni- ties, and develop the strength and resources of his genius. moody irritable and savage, he was now purposeless in his aim, and utterly hopeless of favorable events in his future progress. -He had no longer the heart for enterprise, or the spirit for ad- venture; and, for eight days, he lay in his rude and inadequate encampment, among the ruins of. Mauvila, like a wounded tiger, licking his wounds in his jungle. Meanwhile, the wounded suf- ISOLATION OF SO-TO. 503 fered, or covered, died or lived; without seeming to arouse his active se sibilitics. The army, under his gallant cavaliers, began slowly to repair its hurts, and to recover, after a fashion, from its maims an bruises. But it was the skeleton only of its former strength, nd symmetry and beauty. The despondency of their chief opp essed the spirits of all. Hope had deserted 1~hem, and they now only sighed for the opportunity to return to those dis- tant horn s which few. of them were ever destined to behold again. It was while they lay thus, and suffered, in the town of the Mauvilian ,-groaning with their hurts, and dreading every moment t ~t the red men would surround, and compel them to resume t e struggle to which they felt themselves so unequal, that they received intelligence which was calculated to cheer them with the hope of escape from the perilous meshes in which their ente prise had involved them. Tidings reached them, un- expectedly, of the arrival, at Achuzi (now Pensacola) of certain ships from Cuba, under the command of Gomez Arias and Diego Maldonad . The moment this news was~received; both officers and men began to calculate the distance between Mauvila and Achuzi. t was-according to their eager estimate-but eight days jour ey to the sea coast; and all hearts began to cheer themselves with the hope of sooti reaching the ships, the succor of their c mrades, and finally the pleasant country which all now were prepared to regret that they had so idly left. No one thought t remain in a region which yielded them no golden cities, and he people of which betrayed such implacable hostility, such indo table courage, and such sanguinary fierceness of character. They discussed the matter among thena~elves. They encourage each other with their new born hopes of escape from a country, n which they beheld nothing but sleepless and bloody enemies-i 1 which they could now anticipate nothing but disaster and a gloo y fate for all. These resolVes and desires were freely spoken. T ey were not confined to the common soldiers; and De Soto7 by ac ident, overheard one of these discussions, in which the same opini ns and wishes were expressed by his favorite cavaliers. From th t moment, his resolve was taken. lie could not re- turn a vag ond to Cuba. He who had gone forth in such state and spend r, could not crawl back in the sight of his people, ~ maimed a stricken fugitive. He must first conquer. He must win t e spoils he sought. He must carry back the, proofs and the tr phies of the golden cities which he had promised. He still ha faith in the hidden treasures of the Apalachian. He still looked to the conquest of a semi-civilized people, such as 6 S page: 504-505[View Page 504-505] 504 VASOONSELOS. those of Mexico and Peru, the overthrow and dominion of whom would crown the close of his life with glory, and redeem and re- pair the hurts of character and credit which had confes~edly accrued from his enterprise, up to the present moment. He resolved to confound his cowardly followers, and to baffle all their imbecile calculations. He determined that they should share his fortunes, in spite of all their fears. He did not suffer them to know that he was aware of their secret hopes. He simply gave his orders-to turn their backs upon his shipping, and go forward, deeper, deeper, into the wild abodes of the savage Apalachian. His cavaliers, as soon as they heard these orders, boldly nn- dertook to expostulate with him upon* them. They spoke of the sea, of the shipping at Achuzi, of their hopes and homes in Cuba. "Tell me not of sea, or ships, or Cuba !" was the angry reply of the Adelantado. "I will see neither, until I have conquered these savage Apalachians, and won possession of their great cities." They would still have expostulated. "There were no great cities" was the answer. "These people are mere savages. Our people despond. They have not the heart for further adventure. Their hearts are set only on returning to the sea coast, and availing themselves of the shipping, of once more reaching Cuba. They are already discontent with the delay. They will mutiny-." "Ha! mutiny! Tell you this to me? Then get ye ready your executioner, and prepare to do as I require, for by the Holy Cross, so long as I breathe, the Yic&Gerent here of our Royal Master, I will put to sharp justice the soldier who shall only dare to murmur. Away, Sir Knights, and let me hear no more of this."' "The habitual exercise of authority had imparted to De Soto a power of command, which was admirably seconded by a sub- mission as habitual, as well among his cavaliers, as common soldiers. The obedience of the one, necessarily enforced that of the other. The army was put under marching orders, and, with weary footsteps and responding hearts, the remnant of the army took its way into the great solitudes once more. But the one purpose~ of progress, in Dc Soto's mind, was un- directed by that aim and design which constitute the first true essentials of successful adventure oti the part of the soldier. Disappointed hitherto in the results which followed his several enterprises, he knew not now whither to direct his footsteps. WHAT OF ISTALANA. 505 From th S moment, his only labor seemed to be to increase the dis- tance bet veen his people and the sea. Haunted by the dread of their desertion , he simply hurried forward, on a route that perpetually changed ts direction, now east, now west, hither and thither, but always t no purpose. He knew not, nor seemed to care to know, w either he sped. Stern, silent, irritable, he scorned counsel and forbade expostulation. He wandered thus, in weary pi grimage, day by day, passing from forest to forest, from vill ge to village, fighting wherever the red men crossed his path-w ich they did perpetually-and fighting always without an object One is forced to think, seeing how erratic was his progress, ahd how recklessly he incurred all perils, that his real purpose as to end a struggle which brought him vexation only, and a life which, his pride taught him, was dishonored by the de- feat of all his expectations. While ur Spaniards were recreating themselves in Mauvila, what of t e people of the Great King, Tuscaluza? what of the Portugue e Knight, whom we now know as Istalana, the im- mediate confidant of the Mauvilian Cassique, sorely wounded in the fina battle with the Spaniards. Both of these chiefs were seasonabi borne away by their red followers to a place of safety in t e contiguous forests. As these proceedings were all transacted with the greatest secrecy, by a peGple practiced in the utmost subtleties of savage warfare, as cunning as the serpent, and as ste lthy as the cat, the Spaniards never dreamed of the vast num ers, that, more or less hurt, were carried safely from the meUc; and the still greater numbers, who escaped when the conflict we t too decidedly against them. The Mauvilians had lost proba ly three thousand warriors, and a few score of women had perish d also fighting in their ranks; but a numerous army still remain ed to the Great King, even of those engaged ~t Mau- vila; while others daily poured into his assistance, led by the Cassiques f tributary provinces. Had he or Istalana been able to take th field, the spaniards had never been suffered to rest a moment in Mauvila; had never been permitted time to repair their disas ers and to recruit themselves fqr a fresh campaign~ Had their quarters been beat up daily and nightly with incessant alarm; ha their foragers been cut off whenever they went forth; it is proba le, that the eight days of rest at Mauvila, would have been so mai y days of struggle and starvation, en ding in their utter annihilation They were then in no condition to fight, and as little to en ure. But, in t e wounds and incapacity of their great leaders, the 22 page: 506-507[View Page 506-507] 506 YASCONSELOB. red men did not dare to venture upon the enterprise for them selves. They were content to gather and prepare themselves. to provide a new armory; to lay in supplies of provisions; to guard their wounded monarch; and watch closely all the move- ments of the Spaniards. Tuscaluza had been severely hurt, but the red men, rarely outraging nature with the too frequently im- pertinent pretensions of art, were good nurses, and not bad sur- geons, in that day, when they did not feel their own deficiencies and had not learned to succumb to the genius of the white man. They had considerable knowledge of pharmacy, and dealing with green wounds, which were not necessarily mortal, they were singularly successful. The conquering people have borrowed many good lessons, and much knowledge, from their skill in medicine. Of course, Istalana shared with the Great King, in the best at- tentions of his people. Nay, he had probably even better attend. ance, for was not Co~alla his nurse, and was not Juan nigh, jealous of her cares, and watchful of every opportunity to inter- pose his own? Vasconselos had suffered from several wounds. He had been brought from the field in a state of utter insen- sibility. Borne on a litter through the forests to a place of safety, remote from the scene of action, he had undergone a long struggle with the mortal enemy of life. Youth, great vigor of constitution, fond and sleepless cares, and a loving solicitude that neglected nothing; to those he owed his recovery. During all his sufferings, through a long insensibility, fever and delirium, Co9alla never slept. Ah! the devotedness of the loving heart- the loving woman! How it galled the soul of Juan to see her officious tenderness, when he could not interpose-when he dared not. How it angered him, when Co~alla bound the fever balm to the fqreheacl of the unconscious Knight-when she bathed his hands and arms in cooling waters; when she applied the bruised herbs to his wounded side and bosom, when she poured the cool- ing beverages into his burning lips, when she sate' by him, and lifted his head upon her arms, and against her bosom, and mur- mured softly in his ears, her fond, exulting consciousness-" oh! Philip! my Philip." Then would the page chafe with vexation. He betrayed his anger. He was rude to Co~alla. He complained even of her officious zeal, and sleepless attendance. And Oo~alla pleaded with him as if she had been no princess. She knew that the boy loved the cavalier, and for this she forgave him all his offences. It was quite enough with her, that the rude boy was devoted to his master. That, she saw. She was n when love loves tends ing soft and haj Co~alla whole J But t what co his tean cares ti] whom h the tort lay wou princess him. But ~ their hu knowlec his own~ sides of princess return. The joy SORROW OF THE rAGE. 50 t anxi us to see further. But she said to Juan, one da e was absolutely insolent? I-iy doe the page of Philip grow angry? Doth he not mast r? And loving Philip, doth he not see that Co9all m too, nd because she loves him, that she watches him, an m, an dresses his wounds, and makes his couch of suffe and e .sy? What would Juan desire but to make wel py hi master? would he have Co9alla to hate Philip will ot hate Philip! Co~alla loves Philip with he eart. She loves nothing, nobody, so well as Philip.". is wa precisely what Juan did not desire. But, to this ld he answer? He could only turn away, and eoncea and urse his fate, that suffered other hands and othe n his wn, to~iurse and tend, and minister to the bein so m ch loved, with a like love also. Verily, great were res of the page, during that long trial, while Vasconselos ded a d insensible upon the fringed couch of the beautiful and o long as she alone had power to watch beside aduall both Tuscaluza and Istalana grew better from ts, an the eyes of the Portuguese Knight opened to a I e of h s friends; and he took the hand of Co9aJla Within and he hand of Juan too; as they stood on opposite he cou h; and he kissed the hand of Co~alla; while the laugh merrily with joy, and kissed his forehead in But a for Juan, he could only turn away, and weep. f the princess was the sorrow of the page. page: 508-509[View Page 508-509] CHAPTER XLIX. "Set we forward Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed." Cn1mEUNE. THE warriors of the Apalachian had been set in motion, by the impatient Tuscaluza, before Vasconselos ,~as able to take the field. His pride made him impatient. Advised of every step in the progress of' the Spaniards, he had commanded that their steps should be followed; and, taking counsel, for awhile, from Istalana, he had pursued a cautious policy, which studiously fore- bore risking anything on a general battle. His present chief warrior was Chiea~a, who controlled an immense district of' country, and could bring at least five thousand warriors into the field. The progress of De Soto had now brought him into the territories of this Chief. To him, Tuscaluza-preparing himself' to take the field-had sent instructions to harass the Spaniards, cut off detachments and supplies, whenever occasion offered, but, on no account, to engage in general action. It was the fortune of' the Great King to Apalachia, to possess great Captains, who, like the ambitious Chiefs am6ng more civilized nations, have too much self-esteem to hearken to the words of counsel, or even to obey the commands of' their superiors always. Chicaza ventured battle with the enemy, and was defeated. But not till a dread- ful massacre had taken place, as terribly murderous to the red men as that of Mauvila, and quite as fatal to the Spaniards. De Soto had possessed himself of' the village of Chicaza. The first act of the fierce Cassique was the destruction of his own town. He decreed it to the flames. It was a bitter cold night in February, the north wind blowing wildly, and dark clouds scudding across the sky, whei~ the Cassique led his forces, in three separate bodies, to the attack. The Spaniards knew not o~ their danger, till the dwellings, in which they had sheltered them- selves, were all in flames. Scouts and sentinels, officers and men, had been alike neglectful df duty. The red men stole into an unmatched camp. They gave no alarm, until they had laid their inflammable torches beneath the cottages, and until their shafts, tipped with lighted matches, had swept to the straw-roofed (508) lodges, Then the Wi 4 drums, beleag in nuni side, a sallied We only gi driven them x over xv of' thei them; were 4 Andres destroy action, captain army. tears, s Adelan nearer His glo himself' He was his han courage with th Andres station. ren'iincl his fort either- them nc plied to their pe "Oh, do ye fl4 present not the terrors. and f d the d con and r ered h )er, ru I deali brth. nust n' ~e resu )fl; f'or ~re sla Lich th soldb as ma cre or. de Va: ~d.A and w and I When )ite of] ado, w Le appi m am and hh guilty ~hty d 61 thei WI. de Va~ But 1 d him ines. though clues them feet k ye do t go f of' if amna Yet 54 BATTLE OF CHICAGO. stoned themselves inextricably among the reed~ war-whoop sound the signal for assault; then di hs deliver their mournful blasts, and the woode little of' the Chicazas resound fearfully about th habitations. Then did the red men, three thousand sh to the battle, surrounding the village on ever their effectual arrows whenever the Spaniard I 1 s A )t enter into the details of this battle. We ca Its. The red men were beaten,-that is, they wer shelter, to their thickets, and several hundred I [n. But the victory, like that of' Mauvila, was on ~ Spaiilards could only groan, not exult! Fift ~rs had been slain, with several hidalgos amen ~iy horses had perished also,\and a like numbe ess hurt. At one time, but for Nuno de Tobar an ~con~elos, the Spaniards must have been utterly n entire company fled in panic from the scene o ere brought back by Tobar. The Portugues is veterans, in fact, were the true saviors of' th the morrow's sun shone upon the work, the ho himself, gushed forth from the eyes of the caught ~io felt, with the onward progress of each day, ho coached the complete annihilation of' all his hopes vexation of spirit increased the gulph between followers. He had for them no words of patience of' daily injustice. He mortified their prid~ b regard to their sufferings and wishes; he dis sympathies, by the rejection, of all communion~ is best officers, among them Nuno de Tobar an onselos, approached him with entreaty and exhor e presence of the latter-of both in faet-onl ainfully of one, to whom he ascribed the ruin o rl7hough he named not Philip de Vasconselos t in their ignorance of' what he knew, he ofibred o the secret origin of his own agonies, he yet re- With a bitterness that seemed to take for granted ow1edge~ of' his secret. well to exhort and to entreat, and counsel. Why rther? Why not command. Ye know not the s fiendish fate that pursues our steps. Ye know le presence that haunts Qur fortunes with daily e wear his aspect. Ye are innocent forsooth; page: 510-511[View Page 510-511] 510 VASCONSELOS. DE $OTO'$ FATE REAPP1~ARS. 51: Yet why do ye go with him in your hearts, that ye may the better pluck down ruin on my head." "What means his Excellency," demanded the confounded Nuno de Tobar. The scowling eyes of IDe Soto were set upon Andres de Vasconselos. The latter proudly answered, and with a calm cold sterness of manner, which made the resemblance between himself and brother much more evident than ever. "I know not what your Excellency designs to say, for a truth all that you have spoken sounds strange and unmeaning in mine ears; but if their be any purpose to charge aught of our disasters upon my neglect of duty or want of loyalty, then do I demand that you name my accuser, and my sword shall answer to his false- hood." '~ Even thus he spoke! Thus he looked! Thus he defied me ever 1" cried IDe Soto, his memory still retaining full recollection of the reserve and self-esteem which in the case of Philip de Varco- melos had always offended the amour propre of the Castilian. "Of whom speaks the Adelantado?" demanded Tobar. "Of whom! Jesu! one would think you bad slept, without hearing the cries of war, without feeling the shock of battle, without scathing in the scorching flames that swept over us by nightduring the last thirty days of strife and honor." Such was the sudden burst of seeming astonishment, with which the adelantado replied to his lieutenant. He continued, ardently and wildly- "Of whom should I speak, but of that insolent Jate which has dogged our steps from Ghiala, and which hangs over us with ruin. Oh! ye know not. Ye are blind. Ye will remain blind until the knife is at your throats, and there is. no means left ye for escape. Hark ye! Ye have seen De Soto overthrown, for the first time overthrown, in single combat; man opposed to macn, lance to lance steed to steed. And ye have seen all this achieved by ~ naked savage of the Apalachian! No mail upon his breast, no helmet upon his brow, no crest upon gleaming shield, declaring his deeds in war. Yet he had a name. Once he had crest and shield, and cuirass. Ha! Ha! A red savage! and ye thought it was a mere savage, a naked Apalachian of the hills, whose lance could foil that of Hernan De Soto, whose charge and thrust could roll the Gas- tilian warrior into the dust. Oh! blind! Hark ye! It was no red man no Apalachian, though wearing his semblance. It was this accursed Fate, I tell you, that pursues us now, that will still pursue us, that will fee~d upon us all, even as the vulture and the wolf glean among our bones bleaching in the wilderness. But I will not fall in vain! There will be a bloody issue yet. His crest fatalist oke ofi ofmin~! He~ behold ~his als so gentlemen, The officer gently affected several days o and th~ mann active ~mnd co his reduced r spent in rep wounded. B winter was ye they could no Tusc~luza a and tIP auth The redmen risk a general warfare. Th Spaniards, ha them in front them t cover madder~ing wi in his temples armor, grew persuaded hit should finally ever. With longer the gre with a glory lie was no changeiLble ol like a vagrant the waters mar At length f then in sight ( "Ha !" he meet once mc now sh~i1l we And he bac at the head stood the mot "Now," cr i4,~ Lnd so help me, Blessed Jesu, ~he battle-axe between his acc shall not overthrow me quite 4! ay, ay! but a little while. get ye ready for march, awa stared aghast. The mind His brain was wild and f ~ )ntinued to bc the mood whic ~r of his speech. But his i I nmanding, and sufficed for ~giments still forward, after. iring swords and armor, an t dreadful were the suffering ~y cold, and, dreading the tor longer venture to occupy the' rid Istalana were now both rity of the latter prevailed here no longer so confident o action. They contented the y hung upon the wings, an raisingg them at every step ~vith sudden darts, whenever themselves readily from th h every day's experience, wi and uncicatrized wounds sca ore savage his moods, self that a ate~ hung abo woop down in vengeance, b uch a superstition working ii at Captain, who had won em econd not even to that of moody and capricious, purpose, without purpose with his army, to and fro, ey told him of a red man se~ f the arr4iy, though at a distal ned-" It is the Fate! He e! we shall meet! we shall e~ ee 1" ~e them ~ielp buckle on his am f his aPmy, and lo! upon a uted warrior of the ApalachTh I d De Soto to his followei's- as I shall yet plant rsed eyes-that Fat In my fill, ye shal ~ut a few days now if IDe Soto was evi Tered; and such fo prevailed with him, flexible will was stil authority. He drov a very brief delay giving rest to th of the troops. Th hes of the red men villages. the field once more vith the Great King their prowess as t ~selves with guerilla in the rear of th They encounter the thickets enable cavalry. De Sot Li fever banning higi ding him beneath hi~ md more and mom re his banner, whici rying it in blood for his ~oul, he was m ient position in arms Cortes and Pizarro unstable of resolve fact, and wandering s the winds blew an n on horseback, eve~ 'ice. seeks me; we shal it soon. Ha! Ha or and he rode forti little eminence, them n, as if awaiting him "Now, do ye keel 51: page: 512-513[View Page 512-513] back, while ye see me transfix this insolent enemy-this Fate that haunts my footsteps to destroy-with but a single thrust of my good spear. Ho! Sant Jago, to the rescue And with the famous slo an of Spanish* battle, the maddened cavalier dashed forward to ie assault. Meanwhile, as the Spania ds clearly saw, the red warrior web comeci the encounter; for e waved his long lance aloft in the sunlight, and he, too, advance d as if glad to engage in the mortal struggle with the noble Ca tilian. But it was no part of the policy of the Spanish knight or soldiers to suffer the Adelantado to peril himself in single combat, in his present diseased and feeble state. Besides, they had seen the wonderful and unac- countable prowess which the red warrior had shown on horseback. They naturally concln~1ed the one before them to be the same who had already overthrown their leader, and they began to share in the superstitions w ich he had taught them to respect. They dashed forward in a ody to the support of Dc Soto, and, with their approach, the s range warrior of Apalachia melted fr~rn sight, man and horse, uto the dim shadows of the impenetrable forest. "Whither went he?" demanded the Adelantado. "Did the earth swallow him? id ye see him ride away ?" "Verily," said one, 'he disappeared as suddenly as he came! We saw nQt how! Perhaps into the forest." "But had he not be~n a fiend from hell, could he have sped from sight unseen-unheard?" The knights crossed themselves solemnly, and each muttered to himself a prayer. "It is the Fate-my Fate!" exclaimed Dc Soto as they led him back; "but I shall cross weapon with him yet! Sant Lago against the Fiend, myrrien ds! I will conquer mine enemy ~" Days passed; the ~paniards still pressed forward; still har- assed by their sleepless enemies, and unable, with all their ai~ts, to bring the wily red n~en to a general action. But Dc Soto was told of a fortress into which Chicaza, the Cassique, had thrown himself; upon the very borders of his province, and where he appeared preparing to defend himself. The news seemed to con- centrate all the energies and purposes of De Soto. It gave him a definite purpose. Them fortress was called Alabama, and stood upon the banks of the Yazoo river. The garrison was large. The fortress was strong and built like that of Mauvila. The Adelantado at once led his army against it; clouds of the red men, under Tuscaluza and Istalana, hanging upon his wings and rear. A terrible fight ensued; the infantry of the Spaniards assailing the fortress, wh against ~he for Spaniard ~ were They lost~ some the red wen w~ extravagant chr fact, the defend which the polic which gradually evaders. They i who fought with shelter, with a ti for flight, while their enemies. pressed on thre( swam over to tI Philip de Vasec A snare was lai horseman of th4 or badly manag with battle-axe Dc- Soto, and, b have succeeded denly threw a x~ his prey, and h before the Span satisfied with w barren conquest The event of ness of his mo( natural-which terribly strike his frame seem~ certainly no loi hitherto listing his people forw iously strove t( template the se in that direction unable to conti him the lingerie was what his p as he had pror 22* 4 512 YASCONSELOS. 513 DESPAIR~ OF D~ SOTO. le their cavalry was required t ~st rangers that hovered on t again victorious, at the usu I twenty of their bravest sol i more severe, but not such s niclers of their people would I a of the fortress was only o 1 of the Apalachians taught t to waste and exhmitst the s id not expose themselves' u ut the fortress had the woo ousand avenues open to their I hey were almost impenetrab c The garrison, on the other sides of the fortress, simply e other side. In this conflict, ~selos were again wounded, b by the Spanish knights for ta Apalachians; but the plan w d. It was suspected, and 1st 1 nd macana. Once he came n t for the sudden fluctuations o n his efforts to do so. A p T 11 of iron and defensive spea was baffled. The red men ards, even as the morning nf at was done, and leaving to b this battle was to confirm P ) s~ and that strange phrenzy had taken possession of his n man, and his mind frequent ~ no longer capable of that ha ~ er seen to exhibit that elastic u shed it in every progress. d, heedless whither, except ti ) leave the sea behind him. I lie dared not move the he n lest he should so madden hh their future course. They I i passion in their hearts to reti r~ de could not contemplate. o sed, he preferred to bury hi defend their rear heir flanks. The price of victory. ~rs. The loss of the superlatively ye us believe. h~ ~ of those modes em to employ, by strength of the in- necessarily; those s for ~ convenient ight-hecled rangers to the cavalry of Land, when closely eapt the river, and both Dc Soto and t neither severely. lug the mysterious s badly conceived, ana fought on foot, ~arly to blows with the combat, would ess of knights sud- s betweefi him and melted away from sts before the sun, heir enemies but a Soto in the bitter -~not, however, un- brain. He was a ly wandered, while dy~ endurance; was energy, which had ~ut still he pressed ~at he always relig- FIe dared not con- ads of his columns followers as to be ad too fully shown in; and this return ~Faiing to conquer .~ fortunes and his page: 514-515[View Page 514-515] 514 VASCONSELOS. shame together in t~ie depths of the wilderne s. He was a fine example of the terrible selfishness of ambition. The erratic progress of De Soto at length brought him to the banks of the Mississippi. His was the first European eye, ac- cording to the authentic history in our possession, which ever be- held the , turbi~1 and wondrous streams of the "Father of Waters." De Soto gazed upon them with but little interest. He dreamed not of the glorious territories which they watered. He saw not, through the boundless vistas of the future, the nu. merous tribes who should dwell upon their prolific borders, crowning them with the noblest evidences of life, and with the loveliest arts of civilization. The spirit of the Adelantado was crushed. The fires of ambition were quenched in his bosom. His heart was withe ed: his hope was blasted forever. He was now a dying man; not exactly a maniac, but with a mind ill at ease, disordered, vacant, capt'icious; striving with itself: weary, and longing only for the one blessing, which he had never suffered himself to enjoy ;-Peace! His heart did not exactly crave a res- toration to his home in Cuba, but the image of the noble wom- an, his wife, rose frequently, reproachful in his sight. He had loved her, as fervently as he could have loved any woman; but, in the ambitious soul love i love, but accords in s a very tributary passion. It craves little return. Its true passion is glory! We have foreborne a thousand details of strife, anxiety, dread and suffering, which the Spaniards were doomed to experience before they reached the Mississippi. They were haunted by the perpetual terrors of th~ Apalachians. Tuscaluza and his Portuguese Lieu- tenant Istalana gave them no respite. They crossed the Mississip- pi. They penetrated the country of the Kask5kias, and still they were under the eye ~mnd the influence of the Great King of the Apalachians. The terrors of his name met them on every side. The powers of his arm smote them in all their progresses. "The Fate! The haunting and pursuing Fate! Oh! Philip de Vascou- selos !" cried De So5 to himself-" thou art terribly avenged. Would that we could meet mine enemy! would that, alone, we stdod naked, front to ~'ront, on the borders of this great heathen river, spear to spear, i~nd none to come between. Then, then! Thy spear or mine! Thy fate or mine! I have wronged thee, Philip de Vasconselos, but I should slay thee nevertheless. Verily, thou art terril9y avenged. I have wronged thee, but what had these done to thee, thy christian brethren, that thou sliould'st decree their destruction also? Yet thou shalt not! Sant lago! ther into my hands." The griefs, th religious enthu~ height should b ed with solemn consecrated its pitiatory sacrifi blessing influen4 that Fate,-wil Thus then, mor Christian faith 1 tian rites cons glad tidings to But these so The further ms embrace of ne the Apalachian against him th( were the comb firings of the gathered from sleepless night mutiny among De Soto, and the noble Cast decision came small force, fo sea at no greal new enemies, he had capture Mississippi. his way out heels, and an hope, wherevi V IACRED RiTES IN VAIN. shall come an hour when tho ~suffc ings of De Soto prom~ jasm. lie commanded th~ hewi into the form of a cro~ ceremonials upon the bank~ inaug ration with great sole~ aes. is secret thought w ~es to esist and defeat the tex h whi h he now believed hiir ~ than three hundred years ower d above the Father of ~crate his mighty billows these. Lemn eremonials compelled rehes of Dc Soto only brou~ wer eiemies. How the an ~ purs~ied hii~i wherever he sp warriors of Capaha, Tula ar~ ~ts, w~at the losses, the surpri ~panhiJrds, in their daily progi their own 4ieagre chronic ~, weary marches, wounds am his o'~vn folli~wers, utterly br( ;ook from him all his strePgtl [han at last consented to ret too late for his own safety. Llowing the great river, with distance. Meanwhile, warn De Soto planted himself at le~ ~d, called Guachoya, on the Elere he prepared to build F' a country in which death angry Fate welcomed, with r he ventured to plant his foci 515 shalt be delivered ted a revival of his a pine of gigantic s. He had it plant- of the stream, and nity, aid with pro- to persuade the rors of that fiend,- self to be pursued. ago, the emblem of Waters, and chris- s they hurried with rio friendly auguries. hthim to the bloody ~s and influence of ed-how they rouse d other tribes; wha 'es, the fears, the suf esses, may be faint s. Incessant strikes toil, these, withfina ke down the soul o Let it suffice tha 'ace his steps. Th But he dispatched the hope to find th ng at every step wit gth at a village whic westernn banks of th )rio'antmes, and mak Liunted forever at hi~ a constant defeat of steps. page: 516-517[View Page 516-517] CHAPTER L. "Last scene of all That ends this strange eventful history." sHaKSmEAR. OUR previous narrative of events has brought us to the open- ing of the summer of the year 1542. We have reached the melancholy close of all those glorious prospects, and triumphant hopes, with which Hernando de Soto left the shores of Cuba, for the country of the savage Apalachian. He was a subdued and broken-hearted man; humbled in spirit, mortified in pride, ruined in fortune. He hadtsurvived all his hopes. Despair had taken possession of hi~ soul. To crown his misery, physical suffering was superadded to his griefs of mind, and wounds, and travail, fatigue and fever, had combined to prostrate the iron frame of him, who, in the pride of muscular vigor, had never dreamed that any toil or trial should have forced him to succumb. Nothing short of this utter prostration of his physical strength and energies, would ever have compelled him to yield the point to Fate-.would ever have moved him to listen to the entreaties ~of his followers~now urged with a stern resolution that would no longer brook denial, to turn back from the forests to the sea,~ and endeavor once more, to regain the shores of that beautiful island, which, even the proud spirit of De Soto himself, be- moaned in secret, with a fond and fearful anxiety. On the banks of the vast and lonely Mississippi, occupying the Indian village of Guachoy-a, the Adelantado gave his orders for the construction of a couple of brigantines, such as would enable him to seek the sea. His people set themselves to this work, with the eagerness of rn6n, to whom the fruition of all their hopes is promised. While bodies of 'them were engaged felling and seasoning timber, others scoured the country, seeking adventures and provisions; and above all, to prevent the too near approach of the swarming hordes of red men, by whom, ever since their approach to the ~territories of Tuscaluza, their fortunes had been followed. That Fate, as De Soto himself esteemed it-which had hung upon their steps and striven against them, with a bitter hostility from ~the moment when Vasconselos was lost to the Castilian columns, ~nd Istalana suddenly sprang into existence, as the leader of those (510) of the Apalaci still making it~ striking at posts down, the strag~ its evident purp Tuscaluza's po~ serve this Fate traversed the w tidings of the character, selfish ferocity of theii themselves as' troops, as princ banner of the G its three broad in 'the eyes of been to him f secret soul whe aspect of that n his followers, bi overthrown in soul, but it also by his Fate! defying his arm~ defiance would ment! Now, broken limb, h out the power sinking beneath morbid of mh into melancholy; without exciting He himself hac as yet, withheld Meanwhile, forward, undex inhospitable t( hewed timber, wove ropes a third division kept in hand, '~ So long as De terest in the b permitted to i E SOTO COWED BY I4IS F TE. ian, was still present, still a ha elf felt unseen, still cutting off beating up the bivouac, carr ing ler, and showing itself as re olut se to root out and utterly d stro~ er and influence were ever who nd promote this terrible pin ose. ole country, passing from tri e to Spaniards where they cam ; of treaciiery, the power of their arm desires6 The Captains of usca volunteers in the conduct of r mbt I als oiL auxiliaries, were to be four ~eat King; with its bright gr und ripes of blue; a sign that no wa our Adelantado, whenever it app e omen of evil always, and he 1 he beheld it. He associate d it i serious warrior of the red en- i too well known to himself, b wh ingle combat! That overt row tended to disarm his spirit. e S he forest chieftains sent hi ins ~ and cl~aIlenging him to comb t. ave spurred him to the mos des ~ suffered it to go unheeded. Li] e lay crouching in his lair, full f v t spring upon his victim, he I i his cares, growing daily wor e ai more feeble of body. Hi fe y A 4wer preyed upon his bc g his b~ain. His physician a lei I despaired some time before. Bul i from his people. t e wori~ of the brigantines w s r he eager' anxieties of the Sp~ nia ~ stories of the Apalachian. W o hers gathered rosin from the ree n wrought cordage out of vi es as employed for foraging; hil 4 ilant ~nd ready, for the prot etic oto, l4mself, could give ord rs, a mess 6f the garrison, its vigil nce e ax. duachoya was not, like Ma 517 hunting terror, detachments, oft; or smiting ~ as before, in r the invaders. re brought to His i'unners tribe, bringing their bloody s, the grasping luza presented e tribes. His ~d carrying the of yellow, and ved omiiiously eared. It had trembled in his ever with the -mysterious to ~m he had been rankled in his oto was cowed )Ieflt me5sa~!CS, Once and such operate achieve- ~e a tiger, with mom, but with- ~Aelantado was ~d worse, more rocity subsided ~d, and affected ~gth despaired. the doom was', rapidly pressing ~ds to leave the hile companies s; hers again and mosses; a le a fourth was ~n of the camp. or take any in- was never once uvila, a fortified page: 518-519[View Page 518-519] 518 'VASC0N$ELOS. town, and the scattered dwellings of th~ place, required to be well watched. De Soto, to his usual habits of precaution, had, of late, adopted others of an extreme sort, betraying a morbid appre- hension of' danger. His sentinels were doubled; each night his cavalry mounted guard in the suburbs of the village, bridle in hand, and ready for the sally or defence. A patrol of troops alternated, during the night, between the. several stations; while, along the river, cross..bowmen in canoes kept vigilant watch upon all approaches from the opposite shores. But this vigilance was observed only while De Soto was him- self able to assert his authority. With his increasing illness, all this organization fell to pieces." The extra sentinels were dis- pensed with; the cavalry found it hard to mount guard during the night, when they had probably been on a foray all day; the troopers findingthere were no alarms, gave up patrolling; the cross-bow. men fell asleep in the canoes. The Spaniards were now stead- fast only in the labor of building their brigantines; and all duties that seemed to interfere with the prosecution of this work, were, either in part, or entirely foregone. Gradually, as the heats of summer began to prevail, all toils in the sun were relaxed. The forbearance of' the red men, for several weeks, had persuaded the Spaniards that they had endured the worst of their dangers from this source. They little knew how much of this forbearance they owed to that person, who had grown into the embodied Fate of their great leader; and to whose agency, in especial, he as- cribed the defeat of his enterprise and the destruction of his for- tunes. Philip de Vasconselos-the Cassique Istalana,-who had now the entire charge of the forces of Tuscaluza on the Mississippi - seeing how the Spaniards were engaged in the construction of their brigantines, readily divined their object. He had no motive to prevent their departure, and, consequently no desire to em- barrass them in their progress. Still, there was one hostile feel- ing, the gratification of which he had not enjoyed. His revenge was incomplete. Could he have separated the Spaniards from their Oaptain-could he have struck at kim-Aim and another- there had been nothing left him to desire! He well knew that through him De Soto had been baffled-that he was a subdued and broken-hearted man; but it must be confessed that he still yearned for the opportunity to bring the long issue between them, to the final settlement of blood! This was the black s ot in the soul of the Portuguese Cavalier. It was a- warm and sunny afternoon of summer. The Span~ lards might be been in groups along the shore, strolling through the camp, or fr pected the near manage the wa a close fortress A bend of the was a sort of some distance, ed with canes, Here Istalan Here he kept s pecting Spaniai side to side at* of surveillance harbors in the the banks of th the mighty stm length along if and the page J in the rear, anc Vasconselos He has occasion questions of Cc beyond the w~ loss, such a nob her own! Ju~ also; but with los rises. He ner of one wh4 "Verily the in vain to en Spanish host; whenever they him through a. hour when his able to see his my weapon! people. Still upon the mm Were he to e~ done for my C wrong to one, "Of whom bitter enemy "Of one, b( C E~Y OF VENG1~ANC1~. ing a~ong the river in cano eighb ~rhood of the mysterious hors~ as bravely as thernse of forest in the imin mediate pr~ "ver a~ Guachoya, somewhat romo~itory. An arm of the the i~ear of the village. Thi nd th9 dense thickets natural foun4 shelter with a select eeple~s watch upon the mov s. With canoes always at h leasui~e; and was thus enable whenever he thought prope hadow of great trees which h river, thek boughs hanging am. Here, in the great sha slop~; and the Princess Co an leans sadly against a giga looks gloomily upon the pa as been for some time silen ally answered, but in mono alla. She has been very curi ters, ~rhich could send forth .e creature as the warrior who n has been listening with he ~rowii~ g sullenness of aspect. approaches Juan, and, speak soliloquizes than asks a que re is one thing that troubles counter one bitter enemy, on and ~dways in vain! I ha have been upon the marc 1 the i~anks of battle; yet n bitter malice wrought my accursed visage, or bring him Yet 4re his colors still vi ~Io I s~e his banneret waving ch, and I trow he bath never ~ape n~e now, I should feel as ~vnreyenge ;-nothing for th Hbut~1ol must not speak of ~loes t~ie Seiior speak 1" dem 519 ~s. They little sus- s warrior, who could lves. He occupied )ximity of the camp. isolated the spot. It river "penetrated, to was thickly shroud- to a swamp precinct. ~ody of his warriors. ~ments of the unsus- and, he crossed from 3 to change the place to do so. He now ye pressed closely to ver and dipping into lows, Istalana lies at alla sits beside him; itic cotton-wood tree before him! ,---deep iti thought. yllables only, to the ous about that world without feeling his ~i she now boldly calls dful and curious ear Suddenly Vasconse- ig rather in the man- tion, remarks: rue. I have striven ~ foul spirit, in that - ~e watched for him I have sought for ver, since the fearful disgrace , have I been~ within the stroke of ible among yonder aloft, when they are left the expedition. if nothing had been - repair of his brutal her !" nded Juan. "What1 we have both l~ad frequent cause of I I I page: 520-521[View Page 520-521] anger and suspicion. Don Balthazar de Alvaro! Have you seen ought of him since we have followed the fortunes of the red men "Had I known, my Lord, that such had been thy quest, in es- pecial, I had spared thee much search and unnecessary peril. The Senor Balthazar was slain the very night upon which I fled, in search of thee, from the camp at Chia~ha." "Ha! slain! slain !-and why did'st. thou tell me nothing of this ?" "The Seiior will remember how little hath been said between us, safe from other ears, since that time." And the page looked gloomily in the direction of Co~alla. Verily, the page had heen suffered but few opportunities to com- mune with his master. "And wherefore thy reserve of speech in the hearing of the Princess? She hath no reserves from us. She is faithful, boy! what hadst thou to fear ?" "Fear, Seiior !" The words and manner were those of one who would rather had I not to fear ?" "Ay, fear! But speak, Juan, and tell me how the villain perished! Thou sayst the very night when thou hadst that perilous and maddening ride in search of me "Even then Seilor; that very night !" "And how ?-.was it in sudden strife with the red men, that he perished ?" "No, Seflor." \Vell ?" "He died of dagger stroke, Seflor,-dagger stroke from some unknown hand !" "Ha! dagger stroke, and from unknown hand! Speak, boy, tell me all that thou knows. Where did this hap? and how knows thou that he who gave the blow was unknown? tell me that !" The lips of the page quivered. He cast his eyes upon the ground. He was silent. Thronging memories and violent emotions seem to confound his speech, and to shake his frame. Philip beheld his emotion, and a new light seemed to gather before his senses. "What troubles thee, Juan? What hadst thou to do in this 'N Water? Ha! the night thou fledst; that fearful flight of thine! Speak, boy, tell me where was the blow given; where did Bal- thazar de Alvaro fall ?" It required a "It was in t. ]3althazar was s "And thou 4 boy! was it thy enemy2" The boy nod "What! the wretch !" "And mine page. But Phi brace. "I thank the proper for thy mine wn! E this n more a ( He released Co§al a upon hh in his ears. "P ilip-is I Jua broke a' himse f in the ti "P 'lip! Phi sight. 626 "0 " One Nuno 4 my br comm cape I resol now turn t pang set u his pr Oh! enoug blood He then s from havin~ e yet ren yet rema 6le Tobar ther, hat md? D4 ie also! ved not LUSt light Cuba; I vorse tha' on him de is hu have tas ~! hen or mine, shook hh trode to the lodgE a single ~ulate the answer. ~, SeAor, that Don 52~ VASCONSELOS. 521 ;reat effort of the page to ar k ie chamber of thy own lod ( am." ~rt tI~ere-present-and be e hand that struck the blow at 1 ed the answer that he could thou wast my avenger on t a wn too !" was the half mutt r ip did not hear. He caught t boy; next to mine own, i hand to do the deed! Yet ~ ough! I must think no mo e uty in my thought I" uan grona his embrace as shoulder, and heard her voi hilip angry with Co§alla !" ay from the group at this icket, with a heart quite too ip !" the boy murmured ev ains ~ quoth Philip de Vas 4 ~s! ~Uhere is a mystery h hath crossed the river with gon~ above with his compa Soto doth not show himself o ar~~ shall deal with him b o set ~ipon the Spaniards ag upon the only proper head. ough we)l I know that it w any eath I can give, to ha x w; now, when all his hop bled, his fortune lost, his t d of i~he bitter-sweet of veng n De Soto, I tell thee, it is tell thee!" hand threateningly towards ards the edge of the creek of 43uachoya. Here he 1 addle. He was seen by sey ldst it all I Boy, the heart of mine ot speak. ~t base and brutal ed sentence of the he bQy in his em- was perhaps most~ ~rould it had been ~ of him. Then is ~ felt the hand of e in soft murmurs oment, and buried 'till for speech. r as he fled from mselos to himself. ~e! I see him not. us lances: Andres, y. Who is now in E~. 1k must not es- it mine! Yet have in. My vengeance Never must he re- 11 prove to him a e the eyes of Cuba ~s are baffled, when Lonor gone forever. eance; but it is not not enough! Thy ~ the Spanish camp, which divided him apt into a canoe ral of the red men page: 522-523[View Page 522-523] 522 VASCONSELOS. * as he went; Juan also saw and followed him. He rowed him~ self rapidly across the creek, and stood upon the Opposite bank, at no great distance from the line of lodges which the Spaniards occupied. All w~ quiet in the encanipinent. Groups of the soldiers and workmen could be seen in the distance, along the banks of the river. An occasional figure wound his way along the public thoroughfares. The approach to the cabins was Partly covered by trees: but beneath them not a single sentinel could be seen. Philip eagerly pushed forward, but with the subtle stealthiness of the red man, and taking care always to cover his person from sight. Flow was the page, Juan, astonished; when, crossing the creek as rapidly as he could after his lord, and ascending also to the level of the high ground leading to the Spanish camp, he beheld the Knight entering one of the lodges of the enemy! At that moment, he was called to by name from some one in the rear. He looked back. Co~alla had crossed also; bow and arrow in hand, and her face and voice equally declaring her alarm. She was followed by several well manned canoes. Very hateful was the beautiful and loving Co~alla in the eyes of the page. He never answered her call, but, as if vexed by her pres- ence and pursuit, he too pushed forward, in the direction which his lord h~d taken, seeming quite reckless of the peril which he ran. Hernan De Soto, a mere skeleton of himself lay weak, ema- ciated, weary of life, upon his bed of death! He was alone-he had been left to sleep by his attendants who had withdrawn to an outer apartment. The building was one of those great lodges of the red men, which were capable upon occasion of holding a thousand men. It had been divided by the Spaniards into several compartments by the employment of quilted stuffs, hides of wild beasts, and of their own horses, and matting wrought by Indian art from native grasses and the bright yellow reeds which grew along the banks, woven together with wild oziers which were every where found in great abundance. The couch of De Soto was prepared of like materials, over which ~ soft dry rushes were strewn in sufficient quantity. The lodges, thus divided, as we have described, afforded several capacious chambers; the best of which, fronting the south west, was occu- pied by De Soto, but having in front ~f it a verandah which had been carefully enclosed with vines and mats, in order to the ex- clusion of the fierce glare of the sunshine. In this verandah, lay drowsing a group of his attendants; others were wont to occupy the chaj Soto, guard, better been C tire to 1 But, aft drowSil Here if with th nal cha court, I tion; a freedom their ~ dying itself. Sucl Philip without armed could I well ki day an had all occupi' having cated counsel Saving with tj ing hhs The c~ withdi the cc Easte the s huinai lay lic quart( he ca were sl~iado during inber imn hue one U i corps n o prevent mmande'J he veran( er a litt] g in the ~ eylayup4 smooth ge, equal rom ~the I d in the for som igilance, delantad was the e Vasco shows only wit ke place own to t~ night. been disc d, was, fi 'been tha s the on "s approa the nati ec or shr approaCi cuinstan wn. TI rt yard, ~ii court, ) th-west. ~ being. ts of thi that 1st ight freq roups a s of th ; the co~ THE FATE INI THE CAMP. ediat9y adjoining, which lay on the north, was usually co w reduced to half a dozen r the disturbance of the Chieft to leave vacant this northern ah beyond it. Here they u while, it was found that wh randah, thcy were at play in I n the long grasses, and, sprea ide upward, they rolled the y of mood and fortune. To prth to the south, was a next ~ languid influence of the china wheels from all alarm, the Sp ~id soon-he himself totally grew to be even less guar condition of the scene the ev ~ cbs making his entrance mt r ,sounds of war-without battle-axe and dagger. 4 ithin the Spanish encampm e vigilant red mien who watch he very lodgings of the seve vered by their spies. The lo r m it~ greater size and sup of the Cassique of Guachoy e most proper for the Spanish ed it with direct aim and u al caution which he observe b, wherever he could emplo i, he went not once aside fro c s all favored his enterprise. ~ y might be seen in the shado n the South and West. So ) hers lay along the banks of t The north and north-west s et there, in the woods of th Le red men of the Apalachian. a ana stole forward to the cam ii nt glimpses of the drowsy t cards and dice. A score o ~ brigaiitines which. they had I er portions of the day. N 523 ast of that of De fided to his body nen. These, the in's slunibers, had chamber, and re- ually kept watch. .n they were not he court without. .ng a cloak or skin; ice, to the perpet- )asS from court to Lud natural transi- e, and in the utter Lniards relaxed all unconscious-the 3d than the camp aing when we find ) it unattended- illowers; himself ~thing, of course, at, which was not d it sleeplessly by al Spanish captains Ige which De Soto ~rior structure-it -necessarily mdi- adelantado. Vas- deviating footstep. I, covering himself them while mak- i the single object. The guards were ws of the trees in ae loitered in the ie river, looking to owed no sign of swamp opposite, It was from this p. In his course, Spaniards. There them lay in the een working upon 'ow they slept, or page: 524-525[View Page 524-525] 524 VASCONSEIJOS. gamed, or wandered in the shady thickets.-they did anything but watch. They left this duty to the foragers, who, under several of the most active knights, usually made a daily progress~ over a circuit of ten or fifteen miles along, the higher country, and~ thus scouring it daily, persuaded themselves that they kept th~ danger at a distance. It would have been easy to have darted ~d upon the camp, thus loosely guarded, destroyed the growth otj the brigantines, and cut oW at one fell swoop, the entire garrison, with its once brilliant captain. But the soul of Philip de Vascon~ selos, even while it nursed fondly the passion for a great revenge, was not prepared to fall upon the people with whom he had so long marched as a companion. He found it easy to persuade the Great King to consent to the wiser policy of suffering the Spaniards to depart, rather than to risk the lives of thousands more of the red men, in the effort at their violent extermination by battle. Tuscaluza had lost so many of his bravest warriors already, that he listened to the counsel thus given him, and the war, thence. forth, was conducted a~ the discretion of Istalana. But Philip de Vasconselos demanded his one victim. Had he been able to see liernan de Soto, in field or camp, he might have curbed his passion until the opportunity should offer of cutting him off when but few troops should be engaged on. either side. Not seeing him for so long a space, he began to apprehend that he, too, might have fallen in battle, or by disease, and had been buried secretly by his followers, who naturally dreaded lest the red men should wreak their savage fury on his remains, should they be discovered. Curious to ascertain the truth, eager to pacify his great revenge, Vasconselos could no longer forbear the inquiry, though urged at the peril of his own life and liberty. Circumstances, as we have shown, favored his adventure. There were no guards in attendance; there was no watch about the lodge of De Soto, and though certain esquires occupied the closed verandah upon the south-west, whom Philip could not see, and whose presence he did not suspect, yet were these as little prepared for danger, or assault, as were the several groups that lay in the shadows of' the trees, and brigantines, or who loitered among the broad avenues of the woods. The greater body of the Spaniards in camp, were distributed among the several lodges, either gaming, or enjoying that repose which the heats of the season began to render exceedingly grateful, after several hours of labor in the sun. A deep silence overspread the dwell- ing in which De Soto was sighing away his life, when Vasconselos passed between its portals. He had been utterly unseen. He paused in the ante..chamber, on the northern side of the building, JIB FATE AND ITS VIOTI and list ned. So nds, as of a slight moaning, ai the inn r apartiTie t. He drew aside the gre t constit ted the door-way, and advanced silently shadow of the oom. His moccasined foots e~ sound. The moa ing continued. D&Sdto si pt the sle of exha stion, and of approaching de h Phili approach ed his bed-side, and gazed u ( and blo dless fea ures of him whom he had se n pride a d hope,- exulting in all the vigor of the md Igence of he most exulting hope, and t e ambiti . His and grasped the battle-axe, i disarm d his rage. He was chilled by the sur e momen s, he gaz d in silence upon the foe, wh n destine as the ne victim whose death alon rage. e now s arcely felt this emotion. "An this the ," he murmured to himself " iant ca alier, the haughty warrior, the proud I lent an ambition s Castilian. This is the man was dis honored made to face and to endure a t death destroyed in hope-degraded from posii the sig t of man f rever. Verily, I would give I passed then life as ajoy and every emotion pr triumph ,-could once more behold thee, He I have seen thee so oft,-as thou look'dst oi when t y doom ave my honor to disgrace, a horror of a beas 's death in the wilderness of I The ips of the dying man parted, even as h feeble cents. "Ph lip de V sconselos," he murmured f i telligib y, "give e back my forces. Philip do hast ro bed me f all my fame. Thou hast ever, i hope and fortune. Oh! that I had the to inte 'pose bet een us, with weapon bared mine u on the is ue I" "H ! he invo es me in his dream ?" "Th u art m Fate 1" murmured the slee robbed me of a 1! Oh! that I could have once m re, and enge upon thee the slaughter "Op n thine yes, Hernan de Soto !" cri "Beho d! I am with thee-The Fate thou Would to Heave thou wert as fit and ready lie I id his han upon the skinny arm of the s and th eyes of he dying chief opened upon was th gaze the sent forth; for a while, ver 525 rue to him from bear-skin which within the dim gave forth no imperfectly,- )n the bleached in his hour of anhood,-and in most eagle-eyed it the spectacle y. For several a he had so long could pacify his this is the brill- iieftain, the inso- y who~ decree I error worse than on, dishonored in ie life that I have nised delight and nan de Soto,-as that terrible day, I left me to the ie Apalachian I,, slept, speaking in utly, but still in- Vasconselos, thou destroyed me for- here, and no arm and thy life and )er. "Thou hast hee in mine eyes of my soldiers." A Vasconselos- East summoned. or the strife as 1', eeper as he spoke, im. Very glassy r meaningless and A page: 526-527[View Page 526-527] 528 VASOO~SEL0S. 527 uncertain. But, as the light of consciousness gradually dawned upon his mind, the gaze quickened with intelligence. "Ha !" he said-" I dream! I do not see "Thou dost see, Hernan de Soto! thou dost not dream. The Fate thou hast challenged is beside thee." "Ha! then! It is true. Thou art here. \Ah! wilt thou strike when I have no weapon. Let me but prepare for thee, Philip de Vasconselos, by the Holy Virgin, thou shalt see what is the prowess of a true man, against the bosom of the renegade and traitor !" And the feeble chieftain lifted his hand and pointed to his armor hanging against the wall, and motioned as if he would have risen; but he sank back feebly and shut his eyes, mur- muring- "Be it as thou wilt! strike, if thou hast the heart for it! I have no prayer to offer to thee; traitor as thou art." "That word alone should doom thee to sudden blew, 11cr. nan -de Soto," answered the Knight with stern~ ~mphasis, "but I will not strike thee. I will lay no hand upon thee noW in anger. There is a more powerful grasp upon thee than any I can lay. Thou art in the hands of the great master ~f life, and I willdo nothing more against thee. Yet, Heaven be my witness, de Soto~ if I would not gladly help thee to thy armor, and sc~ thee once more put on all thy strength, while I stood before thee, with battle-axe, armed as now, and thou with any weapon or armor that thou wouldst, with none to come between us, and thy life and mine decreed to hang upon the justice of our cause. Traitor! Who made me a traitor, if I be one? Who robbed me of my rights, my good name, my honors and my manhood? Who drove me into the arms of the red men,-who despoiled me of my abode, and security among a christian people? Who but thou? and it is thou that darkest now, with the hand of death upon thee, and the dread of eternal judgment staring thee in the face- thou, to call me traitor! It i~ thou, I tell thee, Hernan de Soto, that art the traitor and the criminal Thou that hast dishonored the noble order of knighthood by dishonest judgment; thou that didst debase thee from the rank of the gentle and the noble, in becoming the tool and the slave of the cunning criminal, who warped thee to his villanous pur- pose, making c~f thy soul a thing even fouler than his own "Ha! shafl I submit to this insolence !" answered De Soto ir louder accents. His soul, goaded by the speech of Vasconselos became aroused for the moment. There was a sudden lighting up of natio "S in stil couch vigor, grasp seize Vaf Adela in the over. spasm "A Soto I Foi feature starin, and si south hurry dying they the e just oppo~ north court the fc shout He lb from the stinci fierce of thi Tb His cour~ onws escai the ~ them the fires i put on t iall I liste louder a he street the last ~d the thr hat, ho! n the trai conselos tado san single e: The efl'oi odic gaspiu * Dios 1,, ay before a momei~ s of his eyes. lE ode acros rn veranda ug feet ii * summons ere appr~ trance Cr s a coupl ~te chamb rn apart and sped est covei of mixed oked bac he qviartc uares, ar ye defian war-whoc ~ red men. re was p1 oul was for safel d with t the dan~ lt or the hat they A DIOS. 1 his eye and bosom. Natu e ~e a appearance of sudden stren to this foul-mouthed reneg cc ts and, with the words, ed his arm out suddenly, a fie ce energetic action of ~ at f Yasconselos, crying alo w thout there ! Guards, c ~or. Help, that I may secur 'hook off his grasp with ea back upon the couch. The I pining blaze. The monien a t was fatal. His eyes were t g declared the agonies of de claimed Vasconselos, poin im a corse. t, the Po~tugese cavalier con enemy-the unconscious ~ ut, suddenly, he started, batt the chamber. There was a * h, There was heard the the chamber which lay b t had been heard by his drows aching. Vasconselos lifted t m the northern chamber, * of the squires of Dc. Sot* r. He passed without inter * cuts, through the verandah ith swift foot-steps, but onl whence he emerged. Sud 4 ury and horror, was heard ward: a group of Spaniard s of Dc Soto. They cried as they shouted their ange e in the heart of Vascons with which he replied to th suit; but Vasconselos did no t its full stature, and he di b to the eager paces of the flu e gait of one who would ral r. Nor did he need to haste shot of his pursuer. He w~ c uld not have made him capt nerved by indig- th. e!" he exclaimed sif rising from his I with unexpected piningg nature, he I the while- 4ldiers, Castilians, this renegade." ~, and the dying are was exhausted ry ebullition was iddenly glazed, the th. ~ng upward. De emplated the rigid ~re of his widely ~-axe in his grasp, Ase of armor, in the read of heavy and ween. De Soto's ng attendants, and te bearskin, c1osin~ ad passed through, entered from the option through the unseen, gained the in a walk, towards anly, a wild cry, a ci arise behind him. was seen to rush to other groups in and alarm, the in- los, prompted the ~m in the manner increase his speed. drained to have. re- giVive. He strode ~her welcome than n, unless to escape L5 so fairly beyond ~ve; could not have 527 page: 528-529[View Page 528-529] 528 VASc~oNsELQ$. crossed weapon with his own; arid the river swamp was nigh, on the edge of which lay his canoe. - 4t that, moment, the voice, of Juan was heard behind him, cryL ing aloud, Hasten, Senior Philip-hasten my lord, they prepare tc He turned with surprise, in the direction whence the sound . arose, much wondering to perceive the boy behind him; when, even at that instant, the bolt was delivered from the cross-bow of' one of the Spaniards, and he beheld the boy, as he threw himselfP directly upon his path. .The next instant he saw Juan roll over upon the sward, with the arrow quivering in his bosoni. The boy had thrown off his armour of eseaupil, as most of thie red men had done in that warm season, and not expecting strife; and in his jacket of thin, unquilted cotton, the deadly shaft had met with no resistance. -With a deep cry of sincere sorrow, Yasconselos darted back- ward tjo where the lzgy lay upon the strand. To gather him up in *his powerful arms, and hurry with him down the slope, to the canoe, was the work of a few moments only. As he. reached the shore, he heard the voice of Cogalla, crying-- " Hither, Philip, hither ! Here is a great canoe." He followed the sounds, and safely entered the canoe with his' speechless burden. The rowers bent to their task, the boat shot through the reedy thicket, and had nearly reached the opposite shore, when a crowd of Spaniard , all armed with arquebuse and cross-.bow, appeared along the n argin of the shore which they had left. There were shots sent after the fugitives, bullet and arrow, but with hurried aim-they were delivered fruitlessly.; and while a thousand of the red men answered with their fearful whoops, the shouts and threats of the Spaniards, the war canoe of Coealla shot safely into cover, in a lagune hidden from all sight by the dense thickets of its reedy shore. In a green lodge 'by the river side, they laid the insensible form of Juan, the page, upon a bank of rushes ; and Philip de Vascon- selas, with a grievous sadnesss at his heart-.-for he saw that the wound of the boy was mortal-proceeded tenderly to withdraw the deadly shaft from his bosom, where it was deeply lodged. But, at the very first effort, when it became -necessary to tea'r open the vest of-the boy, his eyes opened, and he raised his hands, and pressed down his garments, and murmured that they should desist. -But in this effort he again fainted; and while he was thus unconscious, Philip de Vasconselos cut the strings which secured the jacket of the boy- in front, and ho, when he had open- 528. ed the garmnrt, boso of awom ed the knight in 'H !Philip ! battle.' Ana Philip gr rance, which had revelation, the mnent. "I Hly Miaria eyes.of the page been done, and ~ and the tears ga them with her " poor 01 And she murt , u it thou f "~ Forgive ! wi And the child and while she s4 arrow from the pain, yet the ago blood issued free it, her eyes once Cogall who w bind ui the wou and to e off the silent, as he str( be do e by Cog and s rove, wit red mn n knew' the w und bled mortar and th~ tain w ich it ha with so much p murmured to P "L Lt her goc thee, to say ti own." And Philip said- " It is well-. tell th. e how m( 23 THE SE0RET REVEALED. the white skin beneath, and the amn. "lla!Philip !" cried Cog 1] his effort. It is a daughter of the pale a eatly wondered, as much at his kept him so long in darkness, ecret of which he now comrn P' he exclaimed. "HolyM again unclosed ; and she n , hat had been discovered ; a c thered into her eyes, and sh hands. Then the knight said via ! Is it thou?~" ured- rgive me, Senor ?" at have 1 to forgive ?i again wept, and her sobs we obbed, the knight tenderly w t wound; and though he stroyv ny was very great, and again s ly from the wound, and whenthe more opened to the light, ands as busy about her, to stay the :d ;and with a sharp word she bandages. .Then Philip inter ove to do for her that which he ala. But though the knmghtb hthe help of liniments ands veli how to use, yet was alt hi inwardly, and they soon behel at the life was fast ebbing out warmed with such fidelity, assion, and such feminie devo hilip, speaking of Cogalla,- hence, -for a while, Sefior. I 1 o thee, which should have i whispered Cogalla away, and hlivia de Alvaros u Now, Philip, that I am about ch I love thee." ~o lose thee, let me full round wie La, who had assist-. ces. It is, oethe edPhlipnd h own bln gno- as at the strange ehended in a mo- lana" ad the knew whatha she sighed deeply, e strove to cover e long and deep; hdrew the barbed to save her from .e fainted., But the y strove to staunch ;he saw that it was bleeding, and to pushed her away, posed, and she lay had denied should pound up the hurt, typtics, which the scare in vai,-for d1 that the hurt was of the sweet foun- and made to glow tion; and the girl diavye that to show ears but thine page: 530-531[View Page 530-531] 580 VASCONSELOs. 581. COO~A.LLA, PUILfl', AND COFAc~HIQUI. "Alas'!" he said, "my poor Olivia, it needs not. Know 1 not r~ow!" And she answered- "But thou knowest not that I am innocent of wrong doing, Philip, and. this is what I would show thee." She spoke but little more, but of this she was most eager to speak. And she bade him look into her jacket of escaupil, where, a packet had been sewn up, which should teach him all her cruel history; how she had been wronged, but how she was inno- cent; how she had been dishonored, but how she was an unwil- ling and unconscious victim to the base and cruel arts of her brutal kinsman. In this packet thus delivered, he read the tern- ide history of her griefs, even as we have already delivered it. But he did not read until she was no more. She died in the arms of Philip; but she bade that Co~alla should turn away her face, and leave the spot, e~e the parting moment came. Then she bade that Philip shoul~l lift her from the rushes, and when he did so, she threw her a~ms about his neck, and laid her head upon his bosom, and so her pure and suffering spirit went, with a sweet sigh, and a fond embrace, the memory of which, in long years after, sweetened greatly the soli- tude to the heart of the knight of Portugal. They buried her, in the great solitudes of the Mississippi, under the shades of many guardian trees, and the river rolls ever along with a deep mur'- mur near the hallowed spot, as if it sang 'fond anthems for the repose of a troubled soul., Midnight, and there was a solemn stir in the spanish encamp- ment. There was a roll of martial music, and the wail of solemn voices, as they'sang the awful dirge of death over the remains of the once mighty Adelantado, ilernan de Soto. Then, in the deepening darkness of the night, they placed the corse of the Adelantado in the core of a green pine tree, which had been hol- lowe~ out to receive it, and, nailing over this a cover of heavy plans, they towed it from the shore, under an escort of an. hund- red canoes, to the centre of the river, and there, with a solemn service,:t~ey consigned it to a' bed beneath the great stream, sinking it deeply, lest the avenging red men should possess themselves of the corse of him who had wrought them so much evil while he lived, and wreak upon his unconscious frame the fury which possessed their' souls against him. But Philip de Vasconselos, who beheld the scene,, and readily divined the nature of the solemn service, would not suffer his warriors to disturb its progress; and from the banks of theT rivers in the~ gloc the st in all beca thus Spani depar sippi ingt benea audib "F Vasc An' many leading away when back 1 once r their~ ture I. "P of Col An princ( ancrei vann~ last, answ darkness -~ ily ever t1~ angeness its wild c~ e the buij unsignedd Lrds shoul in their a its passs e banner Ii the ban ~rewell tc nselos fa the Spar strikes am his war nce mor e had lef o that of 4 ore asser princess, ti y her liar ilip is no chiqui." the kni~ ~ss, as the2 .~t village, ~ And ~a reply tc ~red with~ )f the night, his eye watched, ~e close of IDe Soto's career, a ~f that ambitious fortune, whic Lreer, nothing so wonderful ial-place of the hero. Nor, to his last repose, did Ph be troubled by his followed brigantines, following the fib ge to the sea, and, when one of his brother Andres glide s upon whichhe stood, as i thee, my brother; fare th ewell for ever iards went from sight, and i trials, did they reach their iors back to the great kin towards the mountains of t the territory of Tuscaluza, ofachiqui,-and when the wa bled with greetings and song e well beloved 'Co~alla, then s upon the shoulder of the k the great chief the well-be. ~ t smiled with a sweet sadnc passed into the great thici here the two first met, on ti ow the heart of the woman her frequent murmur of the t at of Co~alla! id his soul brooded Ld he reflected upon should have found, ~s the river which vhen IDe Soto was lip suffer that the ~s. He saw them ings of the Missi~ )f the vessels bear- down the stream, went by, he cried ~e well, Andres de a due season, after omes. 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It will be eagerly read and quickly appreciated."-.Na "The whole work exhibits a good deal of scientific research and ingenuity."-Dail~ Union. "Highly entertaining even to those who have little time Detroit Dailt, Adtmertiser~ "This is a remarkable volume and will be read by two class Information~ and those who read icr amusement. For its oril character, we commend it to our readers."-Albany Exprese. "It is overflowing with wit, humor, and originality, and pri whote work Is distinguished by vast researeb and knowledge." "ThelanIek novel one; the proofs strlking~and must chall Adrerftw" 'HARAOHAS. rice $2.50. F the historical student, and critics, during the mbsorption in the empire ads. mnder the Pharaohs' ~re nestic manners and cus. , agriculture, navigation s of the combined labors ted so much during the gy and history.".-.Jour. with the author, through wondrous history, t4ud had, of the land of~he 2MY; rJ. W. REDFIEJ4 ndred illustration istructive book, curie a and analyses, and a too much neglect intelligex~t observath 10 study the science.' those who study I ~inality and entertain ~fusely illustrate& 'I 4-Knickerbocker. ~nge the attention of I 8. Is 5. 5, I. I. RBPFIILI9S NEW AND POPULAR PVBLI('4TIONU. NO ES AN EME NBA TIONS OF STIAKESPRA n.E. Notes and~ Em ndations to the Text of Shak speare's Plays, from th~ Early Manuscript Corrections in a copy of the folio of 1 '332, in ~he possess on of JOHN PAYNE CoLLIER, sq., F.S.A. Third edition, with fac-sitnile of the Manuscrip Corrections. 1 vol. 12~o, cloth, 1 50. "It ~s not for a rn ment to be doubted, we think, that in his volume a contribution has be~in made to th clearness arid accuracy of Shakespear 's text, by far the most im portan~ of any oft'ere or attempted since Shakespeare lived nd wrote."-Lond. Exam "Th~ corrections ~vhich Mr. Collier has here given to th world are, we venture to think, P~ more valu than the labors of nearly all the critics ~n Shakespeare's text put togeth ~r."-London .~iterary Gazette. "Iti~a rt~re gem ~n the history of literature, arid can not all to command the atten. tlonof'all the amate~ ra of the writings of the immortal dran atic poeL"-~k'stom £'our. "It i~ a book absolutely ~ndispen sable to every admirer o Shakespeare who wishes to rea~j him under ndin~I y."-Louisville courier. "It i~ clear from i iter5l evidence, that for the most par they are genuine restore. tions ot the original plays. They carry conviction with the ."-Home Journal. "Th s volume is an almost indispensable companion o any of the editions of Shakes p care, so numerous and often important are many of t a corrections."-Regiezer, Philadelphia. THE HISTORY OF THE CR By J4 SEP11 FaAN~OIS MICIIAUD. Translated b 12 r~lo., maps, $3 75. "It i~ comprehensive and accurate in the detail of facts, ri rangen~ent, with a lively and flowing narrative."-Journal of need not say that the work of Michaud has supe of the rusades. This history has long been the standard read it in its original language. Another work on the sam as a new history of the 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Emp "Th~ most faithful and masterly history ever written oft Land."~P~ilade~1~ia American Courier. "Th~ ability, diligence, and faithfulness, with which N great tm~sk, are undisputed; and it is to his well-filled volum dent mi~st now resort for copious and authentic facts, and It this ni c~st romantic and wonderful period in the annals of Daily E~'ourier. MA RI WA D UKE WY VII An Historical Romance of 1651, by Hui~rav W of i~he "Cavaliers of England," &c.,&c. I Reyised and Corrected. "Thi~ is one of the best works of the kind we have ever ri dents a~d adventures in the stirring times of Cromwell, am made tl~ e works of Mr. Herbert so popular."-6~ristian Freer "The~ work is distinguished by the same historical kpowled pictorial beauty of style, which have characterized all Mr. serb to them such a bewitching interest."-Yankee Bladc. * "Th author out of a simple plot and very few characters, of deep interest and of considei'able hietorfral value. It ~ reading "-National A~gis, Worcester. JASAD ES. ~ W. Robson, 3 vols. ethodical and lucid Jim ar. Commerce. seded all other histories ~vork with all who could subject is as Improbable re.' "-Salem Freeman. e wild wars for the Holy chaud has executed his as that the historical sta- minous views respecting the Old World."-Boaton IjERIIERT, author oi~rteenth Edition. ad-full of thrilling mel. in that style which has an, Bostort. e, thrilling incident, and rt's fictions and imparted has constructed a novel ill be found well worth page: 536 (Advertisement) -537 (Advertisement) [View Page 536 (Advertisement) -537 (Advertisement) ] RBDF!ELD'8 NEW AND POPULAR UBLiCATIONS LYRA, AND OTHER P EM By ALICE CAREY. In one volume, l2mo, ci th, price 75 cts. "Whether poetry be defined as the rhythmical creation f beauty, as passion quence in harmoniouss numbers, or as thought and feeling manifested by proce the imagination, Alice Carey is incontestably and incompar bly the first living A e: poetess-freshindigenous, national-rich beyond preceelen in suitable and sensu agery~of the finest and highest qualities of feeling, and su h powers of creatio a AIz~iighty has seen fit to bestow but rarely or in far-separat d countries.".-..Bo8t. "The genuine inspiration of poetic feeling, ... replete *th tenderness and earnestness and truthful simplicity, and all the attributes o a powerful imaginati z "vivid fancy. We know of no superior to Miss Carey anro g the female authors I country."-Neo York Journal of Commerce. Alice Carey's book is full of beau'tifetl thoughts; there is draught after dran I pure pleasure for the lover of sweet, tender fancies, an imagery which cap ~ while it enforces truth."-New York Courier and Inquirer. "'Lyra and other Poems,' just published by R.edfield, at acts everywhere, a r able degree of attention. A dozen of the leading journal , and many eminent k~ve pronounced the authoress the greatest poetess hying. '-New York Mirror. LILLIAN, AND OTHER P EMS. By WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. Now rst Collected. Volume l2mo. Price One Dollar. "A timely publication is this volume. A more charming onipanion (in the sha a book) can scarcely be found for the summer holydays."- Y~n-k Trrbune. "They are amusing sketches, gay and sprightly in their character, exhibiting facility of composition, and considerable powers of satire."- ar~~ford Courant. "There is a briJilavit ~ay of fancy in 'Lillian,' and a snovin tenderness in * Jose for which it would be hard to find equals. We welcome, t erefore7 this first coIl edition of his works."-~Albany Rzpress. "As a writer of eera de society he is pronounced to be wit orrt an equal among lish authors."-.S~~racuse Daily Journal. "The author of this volume was otxe of the most fluent and ersatile English poe have shone in the literary world within the last century. H~s verification is asto Ingly easy and airy, and his imagery not less wondbrfullygrticeful ~:- Rw. THE CA VALIERS OF ENGLAND; Or, the Times of the Revolations of 1642 and 1688. By HE WILLIAM HERBERT. One vol., l2mo., price $1.25. ~L. I They are graphic stories, and In the srignesu degree a,~racLIve L& the imagination well as instructive, and can not fall to be popular."-Commerclsl. "These tales are written in the popular author's best style, and give us a vivid thrilling idea of the customs and influences of the chivalrous age."-Ckriszlan Freem "His narrative is always full of great interest; his descriptive powers are of an common order; the romance of history loses nothing at his hande; he paints with power, vigor, and effect of a master."-TA Times. They bring the past days of old England vividlybefore the reader, and impress u~ the mind with indelible force, the living images of the puritans as well as the cavali whose earnest character and noble deeds lend such a lively interest to the legend the times in which they .ived and fought, loved and hated, praycA and revellerL~'...-j~ ark Dsilp. CLOVERNOOK; Or, Recollections of our Neighborhood in the CAREY. Illustrated by DARLEY. One vol.,: (lotirth edition.) "In this volume there Is a freshness which perpetually chari ~o be made free of western homes at once."-Old Colony Men "They bear the true stamp of genius-simple, natural, trul sen~o~the humor and pathos, of the comedy and tragedy, ol this West. By ALICI .2mo., price $1.4~O. is the reader. You seem orlaL bful-and evince a keen life in the country."-J REDPIELD'S NEW AND POPUJ. ARPUB~ICATWI4W. DREAM-LAND BY DAY-LI HT: A Panorama of Romance. By CAROLINE CrIEs BRO'. Illustrated by ]~ARLEY. One vol., l2mo., price $1.25. Second edition.) "The~e simple and beautiful stories are all highly ended ith an exquisite percep- tion of t~atural beauty, with which is combined an appreciiiti e sense of its relation to the highest moral emotions."-AZbtlnY State Register. "Gladly do we greet this flowered in the field of our literate e, for it is fragrant with sweet and bright with hues that mark it to be of Heaven's own planting."-Courier and Enquiret "There is a depth of sentiment and feeling not ordinarily m t with, and some of the noblest faculties and affections of man's nature are depicted el illustrated by the skil ful pen f the authore5s."-.-CkUfl~kMafl. LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CA J~ALIERS. By WILLIAM E. ATTOUN, Professor of Literati~ire and Belles-Let- tres in the University of Edinburgh and Editor of Blackwood's Magazine. One vol., l2mo. cloth, price $1.00. "Since Lockhart and Macaulay's ballads, we have had no n~etrical work to be com- pared in spirit, vIgor, and rhythm with this. These ballads i~nbcdy and embalm the chief historical incidents of Scottish history-literally in 'thc~ughts that breathe and words that burn.' They are full of lyric energy, graphic description, and genuine feel lng."-Home Journal. wortYi "The fine ballad of' Montrose' in this collection is alone the price of the book.' Beaten Transcript. THE BOOK OF BALLAL~S. By BoN GAULTIER. One volume, l2mo., cloth, price~75 cents. "Here is a book for everybody who loves classic fun. It i~ made up of ballads of ill sorts, each a capital parody upon the style of some one of t!le best lyric writers of ihe time, from the thundering verification of Lockhart and Macaulay to the sweetest and simplest strains of Wordsworth and Tennyson. The author is one of the first scholars, and one of the most finished writers of the day, and this production is but the frolic of his genius in play.time"-Courier and Enquirer. I "We do not know to whom belongs this uom de plume, but h* is certainly a hume~Ii of no common powe.r."..~Proi'idEiflCAi Journal. page: 538 (Advertisement) -539 (Advertisement) [View Page 538 (Advertisement) -539 (Advertisement) ] RN~DFIELD '8 NEW AND POPuLAR 1~UBLIGATION5. Life under an Italian Despotism £ I LORENZO BENONI, OR PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF AN ITAL AN One Vol., l2ino, Clotk-Prwe $1.00. OPX~IONS OF THE PRESS. 'THE author of 'Lorenzo Benoni'is GIOVANNI RUFFINI, a native of Genoa, who his escape from~ his native country after the attempt at rev Aution in 18.33. His In substance, an authentic account of real persons and incidents, though the w chosen to adopt fictitious and fantastic designations for him elf and his associates.1 1833, Ru1Il~i has resided chiefly (if not wholly) in England and France, where hi ties, we understand, have secured 'him respect and regard. In 1848, he was sele Charles Albert to fill the responsible situation of embassad~r to Paris, in which had long been domesticated as a refugee. He crc lone ho~~ever, relinquished th and again withdrew into private life. He appears to have e~nployed the time of h In this country to such advantage as to have acquired a m~st uncommon maste the English language. The present volume (we are informed on good author elusively his own-and, if so, on the score of style alo,,e it is a remarkable cu But its matter also ia curinus.".-London (~uarierly Review f~r~'r July. "A tale of sorrow that has lain long in a rich mind, like a ~ruin in a fertile count is net the less gravely impressive for the grace and beauty~ of its coverings same time the most determined novel-reader could desire n work more fascinati which to forget the flight of time. - . . No sketch of foreign~ oppression has ever, lieve, been submitted to the English public by a foreigner, equal or nearly equal volume in literary merit. It is not unworthy to be ranked ~among contemporary whose season is the century in which their authors live."-~ond~ Examiner. "The book should be as extensively read as 'Uncle Tam's Cabin,' inasmuch develops the existence of a state of slavery and. degradation, worse even than that Mrs. Beecher Stowe has elucidated with so much pathos and feeling."-Bell's Messenger. "Few works of the season will be read with greater plqasure than this; the great charm in the quiet, natural way iii which the story is told."-Londor. Atlas. "The author's great forte~ is character-painting. This portraiture is accom~ with remarkable skill, the traits both individual and nation being marked with nicety without obtrusiveness."-London Spectator. "Under the modest guise of the biography of an imaginary~ 'Lorenzo Benoni, here, in fact, the memoir of a man whose name could not be pronounced in certain~ of northern Italy without calling up tragic yet noble historical reeollections..~ merits, simply as a work of literary art, are of a very high order. The style ie~ beautiful-easy, sprightly 4vraceful and full of the happiest ~snd most ingenious ti.~ phrase and fancy."-Nords~Y3ritish Review. I "This has been not unjustly compared to 'Gil Bias,' to which it is scarcely infe~ spirited delineation of human cha,-acter, and in the variety of events which it r~ But as a description of actual occurrences illustrating the domestic and political tion of Italy, at a 'period fraught with interest to all classes of readers, it far trans In importance any work of mere tlction."-Dublin Rvenin~ Mall. GONTEMPORA1~Y mOGRAUY. MEN OF THE TIME, OR SKETCHES OF LIVING NOTABLES, AUTHORS ENGINEERS PHILANTHROPISTS ARCHITECTS JOURNALISTS PREACHERS ARTISTS MINISTERS SAVANS COMPOSERS MONARCHS STATESMEN DEMAGOGUES NOVELISTS TRAVELLERS DIVINES POLITICIANS VOYAGERS DRAMATISTS POETS WARRIORS t,~ One Vol., l2mo, containing nearly Nine Hundred Bio~-rapk ical Sketches-PRICE $L50. "I airs glad to learn that you are publishing this work. It is precisely that kind of Information that every public and intelligent man desires to see, specially in reference to the distinguished men of Europe, but which I have found it extremely diffIcult to obtain."-Extract from a Letter of the President of the United State to the publisher. "In its practical usefulness this work will supply a most imp rtnnt desideratum"- Courier 4. Enquirer. "It forms a valuable manual for reference, especially in the merican department, which we can not well do without; we commend it to the atte tion of our 'reading public.'" Tribune. "Just 'the book we have desired a hundred times. brief, states ical and biographical sketches of men now living, in Europe and America."-New Yor Observer. "It is a book of reference which every newspaper reader shou d have at his elbow- as indispensable as a map or a dictionary-and from which the est-informed will de- rive instruction and pleasurc."-Evangelist. "This book therefore fills a place in literature; and once pu ished, we do not see how any one could do without it."-Albany Express. "It is evidently compiled with great care and labor, and every possiblee meai~s seems to have been used to secure the highest degree of correctness. I containss a great deal of valuable information, and is admirable as a book of reference.' -Albassg Argus. "It is, to our notion, the most valuable collection of contemporary biographies yet made in this or any other country. The author acknowledges that its compilation was a 'labor of care and responsibility.' We believe him, and we give him credit for hay Ing executed that labor after a fashion that will command general and lasting approve. al."-Sunday Times, and Koale's Weekly Messenger. "This is one of the most valuable works lately issued-valuabl not only for general reading and study, but as a book of reference. It is certainly th fullest collection of contemporary Biographies yet made in this country."-Troy Dail Times. "This is emphatically a book worthy of the name, and will sec re an extended pop. ularity."-Detroit Daily Advertiser. "A book of reference unequalled in either value or interest. It a indeed a grand sup. element and appendix to the modern histories, to the reviews, to e daily newspapers -a book which a man anxious to be regarded as intelligent and eli-informed, can no more do without than a churchman can do without his prayer b k, a sailor his navi- gator, or a Wall street man his almanac and interest tables."-1V York Day Book, "The volume once known will be found indispensable, and ill prove a constant coerce of information to readers at large."-N. 7. Reveille. "For a book of reference, this volume will recommend itself ~s an invaluable com panion in the library, office, and studio."-lVortkern Budget. "It is a living breathing epitome of the day, a directory to that wide phantasmagoria We call the world."- Wail Street Journal. "We know of no mqre valuable book to authors, editors, statement, and all' who would be 'up with the time,' than this."-Spb-it of the Times. "Men of all nations, creeds and parties, appearto be treated in a kindly spirit. The work will be found a useful supplement to the ordinary biographical dictionaries."- Commercial Advertiser. "The value of such a work can scarcely be over-estimated. To the statesman an4 philanthropist, as well as the scholar and business man, it will be found of great con- vessience as a reference book, and must soon be considered as indispensable to a llbrsr * Webster's Dictionary."-Lockport O~nwler. elected nok is, er has Since quali- ted by exile over is cx- losity. 37, and 'I ~ the over e be- o this orks as it hich eekly 15 a ished great have parts - Its eally s of orin lates. ondi- ~nda 4 page: 540 (Advertisement) -541[View Page 540 (Advertisement) -541] 1~EDFIELD'8 NEW AND POPULAR~ ~PUBLICATIONS. "SHAKESPEARE AS HE WROTE IT." THE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE, &printed from the newly-dIscovered copy of the Folio o 1632 in the possession off. Payne Collier, containing nea y Twenty Thousand Manuscript Correction , - With a History of the Stage to the Time, an 1ntrodu~' ion t~ each Play, Ljfe of the Poet, etc. B~ J. PAYNE COLLIER, F.S.A. To which are added, Glossariat and other Notes, the Readings of ormer Editions, a PORTRAIT after that by 2fartin Droeshout, a VION Timu on Steel, and a FACSIMILE OF TIlE Ow FOLIO, with the .Afanuscri t (Jor- rections. 1 vol, Imperial 8vo. Cloth $4 00. The WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE the same as the bove. Uniform in Size ~vith the celebrated Chiswick Edition, vols. l6mo, cloi~h $6 00. Half calf or moroc. extra These are American copyright Editions, the Notes being expressly p pared for the work. The English edition contains simply the text, without single note or indication of the changes made in the text. In the present, t e van. nations from old copies are noted by reference of all changes to former editions (abbreviated f. e.), and every indication and explanation is given essen al to a clear understanding of the author. The prefatory matter, Life, &c., will e fuller than in any American edition now published. I "THxs is the only correct edition of the works of the 'Bard of Avon' eve issued, and no lover or student of Shakespeare should be without it."-Pkiladelpkia rgus. "Altogether the most correct and therefore the most valuable edition extant.' Alba. ny E~rpress. "This edition of Shakespeare will ultimately supersede all others. It must rtainly be deemed an essential acquisition by every lover of the great dramatist."-1V . Goes. mercial Advertiser. "This great work commends itself in the highest terms to every Shakespeari schol. ar and student."-P/ziladelpkia City Item. "This edition embraces all that is necessary to make a copy of Shakespeare d sirable and correct."-lWagara Democrat. "It must sooner or later drive all others from the market."-...1V. Y. Evening et. "Beyond all question, the very best edition of the great bard hitherto public ed."..... ~Vew England Religious Herald. ' It must hereafter be the standard edition of Shakespca~e's plays."-National rgue. "It is clear from internal evidence that they are genuine restorations of th origi nal plays.".-Detroit Daily Times. "This must we think supersede all other editions of Shakespeare hitherto pu listed. Collier's corrections make it really a different work from its predecessors. Co pared with it we consider them hardly worth possessing."-Daity Georgian, Savanna "One who will probably hereafter be considered as the only true authority. o one we think, will wish to ~rchnse an edition of Shakespeare, except it shall be c form. able to the amended text oy CoUier."-Nesoark Daily Advertiser. "A great outcry has been made in England against this edition of the bard, y Sin. ger-and others interested in other editions; but the emendations commend the selYM too strongly to the good sense of every reader to be dropped by the public- o old editions must become obsolete."-Yanlsee Blade, Boston,
