Gustave Aimard
The Insurgent Chief

CHAPTER VII
THE INTERVIEW

If Emile Gagnepain became somewhat more calm, certainly the strange spectacle that he had before him had aroused not only his gaiety but his caustic fancy. This shameless parody of interviews accorded by the chiefs of a powerful nation to the representatives of another – played seriously by bandits with low and cruel features, and hands red with blood – half fox and half wolf – whose affected manners had something despicable and repulsive in them – disagreeably impressed the young man, and caused him to experience an undefinable sentiment of disgust and pity for the Spanish officers, who did not scruple to come and humbly implore the aid of these ferocious partisans, whom for a long time they had implacably pursued, to punish them for their innumerable misdeeds.

And, in fact, the Spanish officers appeared to be perfectly aware of their anomalous position, and of the reprehensible step, with regard to honour and the right of nations, that they did not at this moment scruple to take.

Notwithstanding the assurance they affected and their haughty bearing, the blush of shame covered their faces. In spite of them their heads drooped, and their eyes rested only with a kind of hesitation on the persons by whom they were surrounded, and who, without doubt, they wished had been less numerous.

This unusual ceremony, displayed before them with the evident design of cutting them off from all retreat, and of engaging them irrevocably, weighed upon them; for they understood all the bearings of such a measure, and the effect it could not fail to have beyond the mountains.

The bearing of the Pincheyras formed a striking contrast to that of the Spaniards.

Tumultuously grouped round their chiefs, with mocking eye and sardonic lip, they whispered to each other, throwing over their shoulders disdainful glances at those whose bad fortune constrained them to seek their aid.

Don Pablo Pincheyra and his brothers alone preserved a becoming countenance. They felt their hearts swell with pride as they thought of the past, which fortune, by one of her incomprehensible caprices, called on them suddenly to play. They looked upon this attitude as serious, and really believed themselves called upon to replace, by the force of their arms, under Spanish domination, those rich colonies which had so providentially escaped them, by that just and implacable law of retaliation which wills that, sooner or later, the executioners shall become in their turn victims of those whom they have martyred.

When the strangers had been introduced by the cabo, and the first salutations had been exchanged, Don Pablo Pincheyra commenced —

"Welcome to Casa-Frama, caballeros," said he, beginning with studied politeness; "I will try, while you are pleased to stay among us, to render your visit agreeable."

"I thank you, caballero, in the name of my companions and my own," answered one of the strangers, "for the gracious welcome you have been pleased to give us; permit me on one point only to correct you. It is not a visit that we make to you and your brave companions, so devoted and loyal champions of Spain; we come charged with an important mission by our sovereign and yours."

"We are ready to listen to this message, caballero; but first will you be so good as to acquaint us with your name and those of the honourable persons who accompany you."

The stranger bowed.

"I am," he said, "Don Antonio Zinozain de Figueras, lieutenant colonel in the service of his Majesty the King of Spain and the Indies."

"I have very often heard your name, Señor caballero," interrupted Don Pablo.

"Two others, captains of his Majesty, have been attached to me," continued Don Antonio, directing the partisan's attention to them, "Don Lucio Ortega and Don Estevan Mendoza."

The two officers, whose names had just been mentioned, ceremoniously bowed.

Pincheyra darted a piercing look at them, and addressing him who had been designated by the name of Don Estevan Mendoza —

"Prudence, no doubt, has induced you, caballero, to conceal yourself modestly under the name of Don Estevan."

"Señor – " stammered the Spaniard.

"Reassure yourself, caballero," continued Don Pablo; "although these precautions are useless, I understand your scruples; your incognito shall be respected."

Don Estevan – or at least the person who had given himself this name – blushed with shame and confusion at these cutting words, but he found no words to answer, and bowed silently with an ill-concealed gesture of spite.

Don Pablo smiled slyly, and turning towards Don Antonio —

"Continue, I beg, caballero," said he.

The latter had been as surprised as annoyed at the mocking observation of the partisan, and it was with some difficulty that he succeeded in concealing the annoyance he felt; however, thus questioned by Don Pablo, he bowed and answered —

"The two other persons who accompany me are – the one an Indian Araucan chief, renowned – "

"I know him," said Pincheyra. "A long time ago Captain Marilaün and I slept side by side under the same toldo, as two brothers who loved each other; I am, then, happy to see him."

"And I also," answered the chief in excellent Spanish. "If it had only depended on my will, I should have united myself to your chief several months ago, for you are brave as the most redoubtable Ulmen of my tribe."

Don Pablo pressed the hand of the chief.

"It only remains to me, caballero," pursued Don Antonio, "to present to you this officer."

"It is needless, caballero," quickly interrupted Don Pablo; "when the time arrives he will present himself, informing us of the motives which lead to his presence among us. Will you now be so good as to acquit yourself of the mission with which you are charged, in making us acquainted with the message of which you are the bearers."

"Señor caballero," pursued Don Antonio Zinozain, "the king, my master and yours, satisfied with the services you have rendered to his government since the commencement of this deplorable revolt, has deigned to confer on you the grade of colonel."

"I thank his Majesty for his kind solicitude for me," answered Don Pablo with a sardonic smile, "but the grade which he is good enough to confer upon me today, my sword has long ago conquered for me in the battlefield, where I have poured out my blood like water, to maintain the rights of his sacred Majesty."

"I know it caballero, but it is not to this distinction only that his Majesty confines his favours."

"I am listening to you, Señor."

"His Majesty has not only resolved to place under your immediate orders a body of two hundred men of regular cavalry, commanded by myself and other officers of the army, but also he authorises you, by a decree duly signed by him and registered in the chancellor's office, to take for the corps placed under your orders the title of the Faithful Corps of Mountain Chasseurs, to hoist the royal standard quartered with Castile and León, and to place the Spanish cockade on the hats of your soldiers."

"His Majesty accords me these signal favours?" interrupted Dou Pablo, with a joyous trembling in his voice.

"Moreover," impassively continued Don Antonio Zinozain, "his Majesty, considering that, up to the present time, guided solely by your devotion and your inviolable fidelity, you have sustained the war at your own risk and peril, dispensing and compromising your own fortune for his service, without hope of regaining these enormous disbursements – his Majesty, I say, whose high wisdom nothing escapes, has thought fit to give you a proof of his high satisfaction at this loyal conduct. He has consequently ordered that a sum of 100,000 piastres should be immediately placed at your disposal, in order to cover a part of your expenses. Moreover, he authorises you to take in advance, from all the war contributions that you shall impose on the towns which fall in your power, a tenth, of which you shall dispose as you think fit, as being entirely your own property, and this to the amount of another 100,000 piastres. His Majesty, besides, charges me, through his Excellency the Viceroy, his delegate and bearer of full powers, to assure you of his high satisfaction and of his desire not to limit to what he has done today the reward that he reckons to accord to you in the future."

"So," said Don Pablo, standing erect with a proud smile, "I am now really a war chief."

"His Majesty has so decided," coldly answered Don Antonio.

"¡Vive Dios!" cried the partisan with a menacing gesture; "his Majesty has done well, for I swear that of all those who now fight for his cause, I shall be the last to lay down arms if I die for it. Never will I consent to treat with the rebels, and this oath I will keep, ¡rayo de Cristo! Even if heaven and earth should league against me to weigh me down, I hope that, a century hence, the grandchildren of the men that we now fight should still tremble at the memory of my name."

The ferocious partisan had risen as he uttered this terrible imprecation; he had bowed his tall figure, thrown back his head, and placed his hand on the pommel of his sabre, whilst he cast at those around him a look of inexpressible arrogance and of savage energy.

The assembly were moved by these bold words; an electric shock appeared to run through them, and suddenly the whole room burst out into cries and exclamations; and then, the partisans warming by degrees through their own excitement, soon reached a paroxysm of joy and delirium.

Primitive natures are easy to draw out. These men, half savages, felt themselves recompensed by the honours accorded to their chief; they were proud of him, and manifested their joy in their own way – that is to say, by bawling out and gesticulating.

The Spaniards themselves shared to a certain extent the general excitement. For a time, hope, nearly extinguished, arose as strongly in their hearts as on the first day, and they persuaded themselves into the belief in a success henceforth impossible.

In fact, at the point at which affairs had now arrived, this last attempt made by the Spaniards was but an act of foolish temerity, the result of which could not but be the prolongation, without any necessity, of a war of extermination between men of the same race, speaking the same language – an impious war, and a sacrilege which they ought, on the contrary, to have terminated as soon as possible, in order to spare bloodshed, instead of leaving America under the burden of general reprobation. But they were driven forward much more by the hatred of the colonists towards themselves, than by a sentiment of patriotism and nationality, that the latter did not yet understand, and which could not exist on a land which never, since its discovery, had been free.

Emile Gagnepain, the only spectator, apart from his reasons as to personal safety, completely disinterested in the question, could not, however, preserve his indifference, and assist coldly at this scene. He would even have ended by giving way to the general excitement, if the presence of the two Spanish officers – the first cause of all his misfortunes – had not restrained him, by inspiring a secret apprehension which he vainly tried to combat, but which, spite of all his efforts, continued with an obstinacy more and more disquieting to him.

Although the young Frenchman was prominently placed near Don Pablo Pincheyra's secretary, the Spaniards, from their entrance into the room, had not appeared to notice him. Not once had their eyes been directed to him, although they must have seen him. This obstinacy in feigning not to see him appeared the more extraordinary on the part of these two men, as they had no ostensible motive for avoiding him – at least he supposed so.

Emile was only waiting for the interview to terminate to approach Captain Ortega, and ask him to explain a proceeding which was not only painful to him, but which seemed to denote intentions anything but friendly towards himself.

When the tumult began to subside, and the partisans had by degrees ceased their vociferations, Don Pablo claimed silence with a gesture, and prepared to take leave of the Spanish envoys, but Don Antonio Zinozain took a step in advance, and turning towards the Indian chief, who, up till then, had remained impassable and mute, listening to and observing all that was passing around him, though taking no part in it.

"Has my brother Marilaün nothing, then, to say to the great pale chief?" asked he.

"Yes," sharply answered the Araucan, "I have sworn this: Marilaün is a powerful Apo-Ulmen among the Aucas; a thousand warriors when he demands them follow his horse wherever he is pleased to conduct them; his quipu is obeyed on all the territory of the Puelches and the Huiliches; Marilaün loves the grandfather of the palefaces; he will fight with his warriors to bring back to their duty the wandering sons of the Toqui of the whites. Five hundred Huiliche and Puelche horsemen will range themselves near the Pincheyra when he orders it, for Pincheyra has always been a friend of the Aucas, and they consider him as a child of their tribe. I have said. Have I spoken well, powerful men?"

"I thank you for your generous offer, chief," answered Don Pablo, "and I accept it with alacrity. Your warriors are brave; your own reputation for courage and wisdom has long since passed the bounds of your territory. The aid you offer me will be very useful to his Majesty. Now, caballeros, permit me to offer you hospitality. You are fatigued with a long journey, and must want to take some refreshments before leaving. As there is nothing to retain us any further here, will you follow me?"

"Pardon, Señor Colonel," said the Portuguese officer, who till then had kept modestly on one side; "before you quit this room I will, if you permit me, acquit myself of a mission to you with which I am charged."

Notwithstanding his self-control, Don Pablo allowed a gesture of dissatisfaction to escape him, which he almost immediately repressed.

"Perhaps it would be better, Señor Captain," he replied, in a conciliating tone, "to postpone till a more fitting moment the communication that you have to make me."

"Why so, Señor Colonel?" quickly answered the Portuguese; "the moment appears to me very suitable, and the spot where we are very appropriate. Moreover; do you not come here to treat of subjects of the highest importance?"

"Perhaps so, Señor, but it appears to me that this meeting has lasted too long already – it is prolonged beyond ordinary limits. You, like ourselves, must want some hours of repose."

"So, Señor Colonel, you refuse to hear me?" drily pursued the officer.

"I do not say that," quickly answered Don Pablo; "do not misunderstand me, I beg, Señor Captain. I address a simple observation to you in your own interest – that is all, Señor."

"If it is to be so, caballero, permit me, while thanking you for your courtesy, not to accept, at present at least, the gracious offer you make me, and, if you will permit me, I will acquit myself of my mission."

Don Pablo threw a stealthy look on the French painter, and then answered with visible repugnance —

"Speak, then, Señor, since you insist on it. Caballeros," added he, addressing the other strangers, "excuse me for a few minutes, I beg. You see that I am obliged to listen to what this caballero so ardently wishes to tell me; but I am glad to think that he will not detain you long."

"A few minutes only, Señor."

"Be it so; we listen to you."

And the partisan resumed with a wearied air the seat that he had quitted. Although he put a good face upon it, an observer would have seen that he felt annoyed. The Frenchman, put on his guard by Tyro, and who, till this time, had seen nothing in what passed that concerned himself, did not allow this circumstance to escape him, slight as it was. Feigning entire indifference, he redoubled his attention, and imposed silence on Don Pablo's secretary, who – no doubt warned by his master – had suddenly felt inclined to talk with the young man, to whom he had previously not condescended to accord the least mark of politeness.

Thus rebuffed, Señor Vallejos felt constrained to subside again into the same silence that had previously distinguished him.

The Portuguese captain, taking advantage of the permission that had been given him, advanced a few paces, and after having ceremoniously bowed to Don Pablo, he commenced in a firm tone —

"Señor Colonel," said he, "my name is Don Sebastiao Vianna; I have the honour to serve, in the capacity of captain, in the army of his Majesty the King of Portugal and the Algarves."

"I know it, caballero," drily answered Don Pablo; "come to the fact, if you please, without further delay."

"I will do so, Señor; but before acquitting myself of the message with which I am charged, I was bound first to make myself officially known to you."

"Very well; continue."

"General Don Roque, Marquis de Castelmelhor, commander in chief of the second division of the corps of occupation of the Banda Oriental, of whom I have the honour to be aide-de-camp, sends me to you, Don Pablo Pincheyra, colonel commanding a squadron in the service of his Majesty the King of Spain, to beg you to explain yourself clearly and fully on the subject of the Marchioness of Castelmelhor, his wife, and Doña Eva de Castelmelhor, his daughter, whom – according to certain reports which have reached him – you retain, against the law of nations, prisoners in your camp at Casa-Frama."

"Ah!" cried Don Pablo, with a gesture of denial, "Such a supposition attacks my honour, Señor Captain; beware!"

"I do not speak on supposition, caballero," pursued Don Sebastiao, with firmness; "be so good as to answer me clearly. Are these ladies, or are they not, in your power?"

"These ladies have claimed my assistance to escape from the rebels, who had made them prisoners."

"You retain them, in your camp – here, at Casa-Frama?"

Don Pablo turned with an air of vexation towards the Frenchman, whose eye he instinctively felt weighed upon him.

"It is true," at last he answered, "that these ladies are in my camp, but they enjoy perfect liberty."

"But on several occasions, when they have entreated you to allow them to rejoin General Castelmelhor, you have always objected to it on some vague pretext."

The situation became more and more embarrassing; the partisan felt rage boiling within him; he saw that he had been betrayed, that his conduct was known, that all denial was useless. The honourable distinction that had been so recently conferred upon him induced him to restrain himself, but he was not sufficiently master of himself to repress all manifestation of annoyance – there was in him too much of the partisan and the bandit for that.

"¡Vive Dios!" cried he, with violence, "One would think that you are now making me undergo an examination!"

"It is so, in fact," proudly answered the officer.

"You forget, it appears to me, where you are and to whom you are speaking, Señor."

"I forget nothing; I do my duty without troubling, myself with the probable consequences that this conduct may have for myself."

"You are jesting, Señor," pursued the partisan, with a wily smile; "you have nothing to fear from me or mine; we are soldiers and not bandits; speak, then, without fear."

Don Sebastiao smiled bitterly.

"I have no fear, Señor," said he, "but that of not succeeding in accomplishing my mission; but I find that I am detaining you longer than I wished; I therefore briefly conclude. My general charges me to remind Don Pablo Pincheyra, a Spanish officer, that his honour, as a soldier, demands that he fail not in his word, loyally given, in retaining against their will two ladies who, of their own accord, have placed themselves under his safeguard. He, consequently, begs him to send them under my escort to the headquarters of the Portuguese army. To Pincheyra, the partisan chief – a man to whom the words, honour, and loyalty are void of meaning, and who only seeks lucre – the Marquis of Castelmelhor offers a ransom of 4,000 piastres, that I am charged to pay on the surrender of the two ladies. Now I have finished, caballero; it is for you to tell me to whom I am now speaking – to the Spanish officer or to the Montonero."

After these Words, uttered with a short and dry voice, the captain leant on his sabre, and waited.

Meanwhile, a lively agitation reigned in the room; the partisans whispered to each other, casting angry glances at the bold officer who dared to brave them in their own camp; some even had their hands already on their arms, and a conflict seemed imminent.

Don Pablo rose, calmed the tumult with an imperious gesture, and, when silence was re-established, he replied to the general's envoy with exquisite courtesy —

"Señor Captain, I excuse the bitterness and exaggeration in what you have just said; you are ignorant of what has passed, and do not know how to acquit yourself of the mission with which you are charged; The tone you have thought proper to take would perhaps, with any other man than me, have serious consequences for you; but, I repeat, I excuse you in wrongly supposing me to have intentions which have always been far from my thoughts. These ladies have asked for my protection; I have accorded it them to the full. They now think they can do without it. Be it so; they are free; nothing prevents them leaving with you; they are not my prisoners. I have, then, no ransom to exact from them. My only reward will be to have been happy enough to have been of service to them in so perilous a position. That is the answer, Señor Captain, that I have to make to you. Will you inform his Excellency the Marquis de Castelmelhor as to the manner in which I have acted with you, and assure him that I have been happy to render to these ladies the services that they have claimed from me on my honour as a soldier."

"This answer fills me with joy, caballero," resumed the officer. "Believe me that I thought it a duty to dispel from the mind of my General the prejudices which he had acquired against you – and with some reason, permit me to say. He does not know you, and your enemies have traduced you to him."

"All is settled then, Señor. I am happy that this grave affair has at last terminated to our mutual satisfaction. When do you wish to leave?"

"As soon as I possibly can, Señor."

"I understand; the Marquis de Castelmelhor must be impatient to see once more two persons who are so dear to him, and from whom he has been so long separated. But these ladies must require some hours to make their preparations for departure; they are not yet informed of it. I venture to hope, then, that you will accept the invitation that I have made these caballeros, and share the hospitality that I offer them."

"With all my heart, caballero, only I should wish that you would permit me to see these ladies without delay."

"I will myself conduct you to them, Señor Captain, as soon as you have taken some refreshments."

The captain bowed; a further persistence would have been in bad taste.

Don Pablo then left the room with his guests and his most intimate officers. On passing the French painter he did not say a word to him, but he looked at him sardonically, and with a smile which much struck the young man.

"Hum!" murmured he to himself; "It is not so clear to me. I believe I must more than ever watch over these poor ladies. Don Pablo has too readily consented to let them go."

And he left the room, shaking his head for some time.