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The Pearl of the Andes: A Tale of Love and Adventure
CHAPTER I.
IN THE CABILDO
While Doña Rosario effected her escape by the assistance of Curumilla, as recorded in the "Adventurers," Don Tadeo was not long in regaining his senses. On opening his eyes he cast a bewildered look around him, but as soon as memory threw light into his brain, he let his head sink into his hands, and gave a free vent to his grief.
Don Tadeo wept! Don Tadeo, the King of Darkness, who a hundred times had smilingly looked death in the face – who had had such a miraculous escape – the man whose iron will had so rapidly crushed everything that opposed the execution of his projects; who by a word, a gesture, a frown, governed thousands of men submissive to his caprices, wept.
But Don Tadeo was not a man whom grief, however intense, could depress for a length of time.
"Oh, all is not ended yet," he cried. "But courage! I have a people to save before I avenge my daughter."
He clapped his hands, and Don Gregorio appeared. He saw at a glance the ravages which grief had made in the mind of his friend, but he saw that the King of Darkness had subdued the father. It was about seven o'clock in the morning.
"What are your intentions with regard to General Bustamente?" Gregorio asked.
Don Tadeo was calm, cold, and impassive; all traces of emotion had disappeared from his face, which had the whiteness and rigidity of marble.
"My friend," he replied, "we yesterday saved the liberty of our country, which was on the verge of ruin; but if, thanks to you and to all the devoted patriots who fought on our side, I have for ever overthrown Don Bustamente, and annihilated his ambitious projects, I have not on that account taken his place."
"But you are the only man – "
"Do not say that," Don Tadeo interrupted, "I do not recognise in myself the right of imposing upon my fellow citizens ideas and views which may be very good, or which I believe to be so, but which, perhaps, are not theirs. The right of freely choosing the man who is henceforward to govern them."
"And who tells you, my friend, that that man is not yourself?"
"I do!" Don Tadeo observed in a firm voice.
Don Gregorio gave a start of surprise.
"That astonishes you, does it not, my friend? But what is to be said? So it is. I am only anxious to lay down power, which is a burden too heavy for my worn-out strength, and to return again to private life."
"Oh! do not say that," Don Gregorio replied warmly; "the gratitude of the people is eternal."
"All smoke, my friend," Don Tadeo observed, ironically. "Are you sure the people are pleased with what I have done? But let us end this; my resolution is taken, and nothing can change it."
"But – " Don Gregorio wished to add.
"One word more," said Don Tadeo. "To be a statesman, my friend, a man must march alone in the way he has marked out for himself; he must have neither children, relations, nor friends. The man who is in power ought to be only human in appearance."
"What do you mean to do, then?"
"In the first place to send General Bustamente to Santiago: although the man merits death, I will not take upon myself the responsibility of his condemnation; enough blood has been shed by my orders. He shall depart tomorrow with General Cornejo and the senator Sandias, sufficiently escorted to secure him from a coup de main."
"Your orders shall be punctually obeyed."
"They are the last you will receive from me."
"But why?"
"Because this very day I will transfer my power to your hands."
"But, my friend – "
"Not a word more, I beg of you. Now come with me to this poor young Frenchman, who has so nobly defended my unfortunate daughter."
Don Gregorio followed him without reply.
The count had been placed in a chamber where he had received the greatest attention. His situation was satisfactory, and excepting great weakness, he felt himself much better. Loss of blood alone caused the weakness. Don Tadeo went towards him, and said warmly —
"My friend, it is God who has thrown you and your companion upon my passage. I have only known you a few months, and I have already contracted towards you a debt which it is impossible I can ever discharge."
"Why attach so high a value to the little I have been able to do, Don Tadeo." said Louis. "Alas! I would have given my life to preserve Doña Rosario."
"We shall find her again!" Don Tadeo observed, energetically.
"Oh! If I were able to get on horseback," the young man cried.
At this moment the door opened, and a peon who entered said a few words in a low voice to Don Tadeo.
"Let him come in! let him come in!" the latter cried, and turning towards Louis added, "We are about to hear some news."
An Indian entered; it was Joan, the man Curumilla had been unwilling to kill.
CHAPTER II.
JOAN
The sordid clothes which covered the person of the Indian were stained with mud, and torn by thorns and briers. It was evident that he had made a hasty journey through woods and along bad roads. He bowed with modest grace to the three gentlemen, and waited.
"Does not my brother belong to the valiant tribe of the Black Serpents?" Don Tadeo asked.
The Indian made a sign in the affirmative. Don Tadeo was well acquainted with the Indians, and knew that they only spoke when necessity required.
"What is my brother's name?" he resumed.
"Joan," the Indian said; "in remembrance of a warrior of the palefaces whom I killed."
"Good," Don Tadeo replied, with a melancholy smile; "my brother is a chief renowned in his tribe."
Joan smiled haughtily.
"My brother has arrived from his village; he has, no doubt, business to transact with the palefaces."
"My father is mistaken," the Indian replied sharply; "Joan asks the help of no one; when he is insulted, his own lance avenges him."
"My brother will excuse me," Don Tadeo said; "he must have some reason for coming to me."
"I have one," said the Indian.
"Let my brother explain himself then."
"I will answer my father's questions." said Joan, bowing.
Don Tadeo knew what sort of man he had to do with. A secret presentiment told him that he was the bearer of important news: he, therefore, followed up his questions.
"Whence does my brother come?"
"From the toldería of San Miguel."
