Gustave Aimard
The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life

"Will you explain yourself?"

"Willingly: the false part is that which is public, which everybody knows, and can comment on and repeat as he likes."

"Good," he said, with a slight inclination of the head; "and the true part?"

"That is the secret, the mysterious part, only known to two or three persons at the most – the sheepskin removed from the wolfs shoulders."

"Or the mask of virtue torn from the face of the villain!" he exclaimed, with a terrible outburst: "Is it not that?"

"Yes, indeed, it is."

"And you wait for this second part of the story?"

"I do," the Count answered, sternly.

The adventurer sat for two or three minutes with his face buried in his hands, then raised his head haughtily, emptied the glass before him, and then said, in a loud, metallic voice —

"Well, listen, then, for by heaven! I swear to you that what you are going to hear is worth the trouble, this time."

CHAPTER XXIV
THE REVELATION

There was a rather long silence, during which the guests remained plunged in profound meditations.

At length Don Adolfo broke the charm that seemed to enchain them, by suddenly speaking again.

"The princess had a brother, at that time a young man of two-and-twenty at the most, adroit in all manly exercises, brave as his sword, a great favourite with the ladies, whose fondness he returned, and who concealed beneath a frivolous exterior an earnest character, a capacious intellect, and an indomitable will. This brother, whom we will call Oclau, if you like, felt a sincere attachment for his sister; he loved her for all that she had suffered, and was the first to urge her to leave the palace of her defunct husband, and return to her family, chaining her down, and rejecting the offer of service made by the prince, her brother-in-law. Oclau felt a strong repulsion for the prince, although there was nothing in the eyes of society to justify the conduct he adopted towards him. Still, he did not break off all relations with him; he visited him now and then, though rarely, it is true. These interviews, always cold and constrained on the part of the young man, were cordial and eager on that of the prince, who essayed by his gracious manner, and continually renewed offers of services, to win over again this man, whose aversion he had divined. The princess, who had retired to her family, brought up her daughter far from the world, with tenderness and absolute devotion. On her husband's death she put on mourning, which she has not left off since: but this mourning she wore even more in her heart than in her garments, for the catastrophe which had deprived her of her husband was ever present to her mind, and with the tenacity of loving hearts, for whom time does not progress, her grief was as lively as on the first day; if at times, in the retreat to which she voluntarily confined herself, her brother-in-law's name was accidentally pronounced, a convulsive tremor suddenly agitated her whole person, her pale face became livid, and her large eyes, burned by fever, and inundated with tears, were at such times fixed on her brother Oclau with a strange expression of reproach and despair, seeming to say to him that the vengeance he had promised her was long delayed. The prince, now a made man, had reflected that he was the last of his race, and that it was urgent, if he did not wish the family titles and estates to pass to distant collaterals, to have an heir to his name; consequently, he commenced negotiations with several princely families of the country, and at the period we have now reached, that is to say, about eight years after his brother's death, there was a strong report about the prince's marriage with the daughter of one of the noblest houses of the Germanic Confederation. Nothing could be more suitable than this alliance, destined to augment the already proverbial importance and wealth of the house of Oppenheim-Schleswig: the lady was young, fair, and connected by marriage to the reigning family of Habsburg. The prince, consequently, attached great importance to this union, and hurried on its completion by all the means in his power. While this was occurring, Count Oclau was obliged by the settlement of some important business, to leave home, and go for some days to a town about twenty leagues distant. The young man bade farewell to his sister, got into a post chaise, and set out. On the next day but one, at about eight p.m., he arrived at the town of Bruneck, and stopped at a house belonging to him, which was in the principal square of the town, and only a few yards from the governor's palace."

"Bruneck is a very pretty little Tyrolese town, built on the right bank of the Rienz; the population, amounting to fifteen or sixteen hundred at the most, still retain the patriarchal, simple and stern manner of sixty years ago. Count Oclau remarked with surprise on entering the town that the greatest agitation prevailed there: in spite of the advanced hour, the streets his chaise passed through were filled with a restless crowd, who were running about in all directions with singular vociferations; most of the houses were illuminated, while large bonfires were lighted on the market square. So soon as the Count had entered his house; he inquired as he sat down to supper the cause of this extraordinary excitement. This is what he learned: – Tyrol is an excessively mountainous country – the Switzerland of Austria; now, most of these mountains serve as lurking places for numerous bands of malefactors, whose sole occupation is to plunder the travellers whom their unlucky star brings within reach, to plunder the villages, and even towns at times. For some years a bandit chief, more adroit and enterprising than the rest, at the head of a considerable band of resolute and well-disciplined men, had desolated the country, attacking travellers, burning and plundering the villages, and not hesitating, in case of need, to resist detachments of soldiers sent in pursuit of him, who very frequently returned much maltreated from their encounters with him. This man, in the end, inspired the population of this country with such terror that the inhabitants had grown to tacitly recognize his authority, and obey him tremblingly, as they felt persuaded that it was impossible to vanquish him. The Austrian Government naturally refused to admit this compact made with the brigands, and resolving to destroy them at any price, employed the most energetic efforts to capture the chief. For a very long period all the efforts were fruitless; this man, admirably served by his spies, was kept perfectly well acquainted with the attempts about to be made against him; he formed his plans in consequence, and easily succeeded in escaping from his pursuers, and foiling all the traps that were laid for him."

"But what force had been unable to affect treachery at last accomplished. One of the associates of Red Arm (such was the bandit's alias) dissatisfied with the share given him in a rich booty made a few days previously, and believing himself injured by the chief, resolved to take vengeance by betraying him."

"A week later Red Arm was surprised by the troop, and made prisoner with the principal members of his band."

"The few men who escaped, demoralized by the capture of their chief, soon fell in their turn into the hands of the soldiers, so that the entire band was destroyed."

"The trial of the bandits was not a long one; they had been condemned to death, and executed immediately. The chief and two of his first lieutenants were alone reserved, in order to render their punishment more exemplary. They were to be executed on the morrow, and that was the reason why the town of Bruneck was in such a state of excitement."

"The neighbouring peasants had flocked out to witness the punishment of the man before whom they had so long trembled, and in order not to miss this spectacle which had such attractions for them, they camped in the streets and in the squares, impatiently awaiting the hour for the execution."

"The Count attached but very slight importance to the news; and as he felt tired from having travelled two days along execrable roads, he prepared to go to bed soon after supper."

"Just as he was entering his bedroom a servant appeared, and exchanged a few words in a low voice with the valet."

"'What is it?' Count Oclau asked, turning round."

"'Pardon, my lord,' the servant respectfully replied, 'but a person desires to speak to your Excellency.'"

"'Speak to me at this house?' he said, in surprise, 'It is impossible; I have hardly arrived ere my coming is known: tell the man to return tomorrow, it is too late tonight.'"

"'I told him so, my lord, and he replied that tomorrow would be too late.'"

"'This is extraordinary! Who is the man?'"

"'A priest, my lord, and he added, that what he has to tell your Excellency is most serious, and that he earnestly implores you to receive him.'"

"The young man, greatly perplexed at a visit at so late an hour, repaired the disorder in his dress, and wandered to the dining room, curious about the solution of this enigma."

"A priest was standing in the centre of the room. He was a very aged man, his hair, white as snow, fell in long masses on his shoulders, and gave him a venerable appearance, which was completed by the expression of goodness and calm grandeur spread over his face."

"The Count bowed to him respectfully, and begged him to be seated."

"'Excuse me, my lord,' he replied with a bow, and still remained on his feet, 'I am the prison chaplain: you have doubtless heard of the arrest of certain malefactors?'"

"'Yes, sir; some vague information on the subject has been given me.'"

"'Several of these unhappy men,' he continued, 'have already endured the terrible fate to which human justice condemned them. The most guilty of all, their chief, is about to undergo his at sunrise tomorrow.'"

"'I am aware of it.'"

"'This man,' the chaplain went on, 'on the point of appearing before God, his supreme judge, to whom he will have a terrible account to render, has felt, owing to my efforts to lead him to repentance, remorse enter his heart. Your arrival in this town which he learnt I know not how, has appeared to him a warning of Providence. He at once sent for me, and begged me to go to you, my lord.'"

"'To me!' the young man exclaimed, in amazement, 'What can there be in common between me and this villain?'"

"'I do not know, my lord, for he told me nothing on that subject. He implores you to proceed to his dungeon, as he desires to reveal to you a secret of the highest importance.'"

"'What you say, confounds me, sir: this man is an utter stranger to me; I do not comprehend in what way my life can be mixed up with his.'"

"'He will doubtless explain this to you, my lord; but I advise you to consent to the interview this man implores,' the priest answered without any hesitation. 'For many years I have been a prison chaplain, and have seen many criminals die. Men do not speak falsely in the presence of death. The strongest and bravest man becomes very small and weak when facing that unknown thing called Eternity; he begins to tremble, and, no longer daring to hope the goodness of men, he turns to that of God. Red Arm, the unhappy man who is about to die tomorrow, knows that nothing can save him from the terrible fate that awaits him: hence, for what object would he, on the threshold of death, request an interview with you, unless it be to redeem, by the revelation he wishes to make to you, one of his most horrible crimes, though it is possibly the least known of all. Believe me, my lord, the hand of Providence is in all this: it is no accident that brought you to this town precisely at the moment of this terrible expiation. Consent to follow me, and enter with me the dungeon where this unhappy man is doubtless awaiting, with the most lively anxiety, and while counting the minutes, your arrival. Even supposing that this revelation does not possess for you the importance this unhappy man fancies, could you refuse to grant this last consolation to a man who is about so fatally to be erased from the number of the living? I implore you, my lord, to consent to follow me.'"

"The young man's determination was soon formed. He wrapped himself in a cloak and set out of his house, accompanied by the priest. In spite of the late hour, for it was near midnight, the square was full of people. The crowd, far from diminishing, was increased every moment by the arrival of newcomers, who flocked in from the neighbouring villages. Bivouacs were everywhere established. The Count and his guide forced their way with some difficulty through the crowd up to the prison, in front of which several sentries were posted."

"At a word from the chaplain the prison door was immediately opened. The Count entered, and preceded by the worthy priest, and followed by a gaoler they went toward the condemned man's cell."

"The gaoler, with a torch in his hand, silently guided the two visitors along a numerous series of passages, and then, on reaching a door barred with iron from top to bottom, he checked him, uttering but one word: – 'Enter!'"

"They went into the dungeon – we employ this usual term, although nothing less resembled a dungeon than the room they entered. It was a rather spacious cell, lighted by two gothic windows, lined with heavy bars on the exterior. The furniture consisted of a bed, that is to say, a frame on which a cow hide was stretched, a table and various chairs, while a looking glass hung on the wall. At the end of the room was an altar hung with black, for the condemned man was in chapel. Daily, since the passing of the sentence, the chaplain had said two low masses there for the culprit."

At this singular account of the capilla which only exists in Spain and her dependencies, the two hearers exchanged a side glance which the adventurer did not remark. The latter went on, without suspecting the error he had unreflectingly committed.

"The condemned man was seated in an equipal, with his head in his hand, with his elbow on the table, he was reading by the light of a smoky lamp."

"On the entrance of the visitors he immediately rose and bowed to them with the most exquisite politeness."

"'Gentlemen, pray take seats, and do me the honour of awaiting for a few minutes the arrival of the persons I have sent for,' he said, drawing up butacas, 'their presence is indispensable, for at a later date no one must be able to cast a doubt on the truth of the revelation I wish to make to you.'"

"The chaplain and the Count gave a sign of assent and sat down. There was a silence for some minutes, only interrupted by the regular steps of the sentry stationed in the passage to guard the condemned man, and who passed and repassed in front of his dungeon."

"Red Arm had returned to his equipal, and seemed to be reflecting. The Count took advantage of this circumstance to examine him attentively."

"He was a man of not more than forty years of age, he was of tall stature, and powerfully built, and his gestures displayed ease and elegance. His rather large head was, doubtless through a habit of commanding, thrown back, his features were handsome and strongly marked, while his glance had extraordinary intensity. A singular expression of gentleness and energy that was spread over his face, gave it a strange look impossible to describe; his black hair curling naturally, fell in large curls on his broad shoulders. His costume, entirely of black velvet, and peculiarly cut, formed a contrast to the dull pallor of his complexion, and added, even if possible, to the striking appearance of his whole person."

"A sound of footsteps was heard outside, a key grated in the lock, and the door opened: two men appeared. The gaoler, after introducing them into the dungeon without saying a word, went out and closed the door after him. The first of these two men was the director of the prison, an active old gentleman still, in spite of his sixty years, with calm features and venerable aspect, whose white hair cut short on his temples fell behind on his coat collar. The second was an officer – a major his gold epaulettes proved; he was young, and appeared scarce thirty, while his features had nothing very remarkable about them: he was one of those men born to wear a uniform, and who if dressed in civilian garb would appear ridiculous, so thoroughly are they created for a soldier's harness. Both bowed politely, and waited, without uttering a word, till they received an explanation of the request sent them to come to this dungeon. The condemned man understood their motive. After the first salutations had been exchanged, he hastened to make known to them his motive for requesting them to come to him at this supreme moment when he had nothing more to hope from man."

"'Gentlemen,' he said to them in a firm, voice, 'in a few short hours I shall have satisfied human justice, and will appear before that of God, which is far more terrible. Since the day when I began the implacable struggle which I have carried on against society, I have committed many crimes, secured many hatreds, and been the accomplice of an incalculable number of odious actions. The sentence passed on me is just, and though resolved to undergo – like a man whom death has never terrified – the punishment to which I am condemned, I think it my duty to confess to you with the greatest sincerity and deepest humility that I repent of my crimes, and that, far from dying impenitent, I shall die imploring God not to pardon me, but to regard my repentance with pity.'"

"'Good, my son,' the chaplain said gently; 'take refuge in God, His mercy is infinite.'"

"There was a silence of some minutes, which Red Arm was the first to interrupt."

"'I should have liked at this supreme moment,' he said, 'to repair the evil I have done. Alas! This is impossible, my victims are really done, and no human power would be able to restore them the life of which I so cowardly deprived them; but among these crimes there is one – the most frightful of all perhaps – which, it is true, I cannot fully repair, but whose effects I hope to neutralise by revealing to you its sinister incidents, and divulging to you the name of the man who was my accomplice. God, by unexpectedly bringing Count Oclau to this town, doubtless wished to force me to this expiation; I submit without a murmur to His will, and perhaps He will deign to pity me on account of my obedience. Gentlemen, in requesting you to come to me, I wish to procure the person most interested in my narrative, the indispensable witnesses who will enable human justice to punish the criminal hereafter without fear of error. Hence, gentlemen, take note of my words, for I swear to you on the brink of the tomb that they are perfectly true.'"

"The condemned man ceased, and appeared to be collecting his thoughts. His hearers waited with the most eager curiosity; the Count more especially tried in vain to conceal by a cold and stern, air the anxiety that was contracting his heart. A secret presentiment warned him that the light was at length about to shine, and that the hitherto impenetrable secret which surrounded his family, and the clue of which he had so long sought, was about to be divulged to him. Red Arm continued, after selecting from among the papers that crowded his table a rather large bundle, which he opened and placed before him."

"'Though eight years have elapsed,' he said, 'since the period when these events happened, they have remained so fresh in my mind that as soon as I heard of the arrival of Count Oclau in this town, a few hours sufficed me to write a detailed account of them. I am about to read to you, gentlemen, this frightful history, after which each of you will attach his signature beneath mine at the end of this manuscript, in order to give it the necessary authenticity for the use which the Count will think it his duty to turn it to hereafter on behalf of his family, and to punish the guilty man. I in all this have only been the paid accomplice and the instrument employed to strike the victim.'"

"'This precaution is very good,' the prison director then said: 'we will sign this revelation unhesitatingly, of whatever nature it may be.'"

"'Thanks, gentlemen,' the Count remarked, 'though I am as ignorant as yourselves of the facts which are about to be revealed; still, for certain private reasons, I feel almost convinced that what I am going to hear is of great importance to the happiness of certain members of my family.'"

"'You shall judge of that, my lord,' the condemned man said, and immediately began reading his manuscripts."

"This reading lasted nearly two hours. The result of the collected facts was this: first, that when the Prince of Oppenheim Schleswig was killed, the bullet came from the gun of Red Arm, who was concealed in a thicket, and paid by the prince's younger son to commit this parricide. Once he had entered on this slippery path of crime, the young man followed it without hesitation or remorse in order to reach the object he meditated, that of seizing the paternal fortune. After a parricide, a fratricide was nothing to him, and he executed it with a Machiavellism full of atrocious precautions. Other crimes, more awful still were it possible, were recorded with a truth of detail so striking, and supported by such undeniable proofs, that the witnesses summoned by the condemned criminal asked themselves, with horror, if it were possible that such an atrocious monster could exist, and what horrible punishment was reserved for him by that divine justice which he had mocked with such frightful cynicism for so many years. The princess, on learning her husband's death, had been seized by the pangs of childbirth, and was delivered – not of a daughter as everybody believed – but of twins, of whom the boy was carried off, and the prince got rid of him in order to annul the clause in his brother's will which left to his posthumous son the titles and entire fortune of the family."

"The Count, with his face buried in his hands, fancied himself suffering from a horrible nightmare; in spite of the aversion he had ever felt for his brother-in-law, he would never have dared suspect him capable of committing so coldly, and at lengthened intervals, a series of odious crimes patiently arranged and meditated under the impulse of the vilest and most contemptible of all passions, the thirst for gold. He asked himself if, in spite of undeniable proofs he had thus unexpectedly obtained, there was in the whole empire a tribunal which would dare assume the possibility of punishing crimes so odious and so beyond human nature. On the other hand this revelation, if made public, would irresistibly dishonour a family to which he was closely allied: would not this dishonour be reflected on his own family? All these thoughts whirled in the Count's brain, causing him horrible grief, and increasing his perplexity, for he knew not what resolution to form in so serious a case, he dared not ask advice of anyone, or seek support."

"Red Arm rose, and walking up to the Count, said – 'My lord, take this manuscript, it is now yours.'"

"The Count mechanically took the manuscript which was offered him."

"'I can understand your astonishment and horror, sir,' the condemned man continued; 'these things are so terrible, that in spite of these stamps of truth, the exceptional circumstances under which they were written, and the authority of the persons who have signed the statement after hearing it read, it runs the risk of being doubted; hence I wish to protect you from all suspicion of imposture, my lord, by adding to this document some undeniable proofs.'"

"'Do you possess them?' the Count said, with a start."

"'I do. Be good enough to open this portfolio: it contains twenty odd letters from your brother-in-law, addressed to me, and all relating to the facts recorded in this manuscript.'"

"'Oh, Heavens!' the Count exclaimed, clasping his hands; but suddenly turning to Red Arm, he added, – "

"'This is strange.'"

"The convict smiled."

"'I understand you,' he answered; 'you are asking yourself how it is that, holding letters so compromising to the Prince of Oppenheim, he did not employ the power he possesses to put me out of the way, and regain possession of these proofs of his guilt?'"

"'In truth,' the Count replied, amazed at finding his meaning so thoroughly divined; 'the Prince, my brother-in-law, is a man of extreme prudence, and he had too great an interest in destroying these overwhelming proofs.'"

"'Certainly; and he would not have failed, I feel convinced, to employ the most expeditious means in succeeding; but the Prince was ignorant that these proofs remained in my possession. This is how, whenever he appointed a meeting with me by letter, so soon as I arrived in his presence, I burned a letter exactly like the one I had received from him, in order to prove to him with what good faith I acted, and what confidence I had in him, so that he never supposed I had kept them. In the next place, immediately after your sister's confinement, supposing rightly that the Prince, having succeeded in his object, would desire to get rid of me, I prevented him by leaving the country suddenly. I remained in foreign parts for three years. At the expiration of that period, I spread a report of my death. I managed so that the news should reach the Prince most naturally, and as a certain thing; then I returned here. The Prince never knew my name – we gentlemen adventurers have a custom not only of changing our alias frequently, for an incognito is a safeguard for us – but also of always wearing three or four at once, in order to establish a confusion about ourselves, through which we find ourselves in perfect safety; so that, in spite of his attempts, even if the Prince had made any, of which I am ignorant, he has not succeeded in learning my existence, much less in discovering me.'"

"'But for what object did you keep these letters?'"

"'The very simple one of employing them against him; so as to compel him by the fear of a revelation to supply me with the sums I might require, when I felt inclined to give up my perilous career. As I was suddenly surprised, I could not make the desired use of them, but now I do not regret it.'"

"'I thank you,' the Count replied, warmly; 'but cannot I do anything for you in your present extremity, as a recognition of so great a service?'"

"Red Arm looked cautiously around; in order to give the Count full liberty to converse with the condemned man, the chaplain and the two officers had retired into the most distant corner of the cell, where they seemed to be talking with great animation."

"'Alas, my lord!' he said, lowering his voice; 'It is too late now. I should have liked – '"

"'Speak, and possibly I may be able to satisfy this last desire.'"

"'Well, be it so. It is not death that terrifies me, but, mounting an ignoble scaffold, to be exposed alive to the laughter and insults of people whom I have so long seen tremble before me: this it is that troubles my last moments, and renders me unhappy. I should like to foil the expectations of the ferocious crowd, who are rejoicing in the hope of my punishment; and that, when the moment arrives, only my corpse should be found. You see clearly that you can do nothing for me, my lord.'"

"'You are mistaken,' he answered, quickly. 'I can, on the contrary, do everything. Not only will I spare you the punishment, but your two comrades, if they like, can escape it by a voluntary death.'"

"A flash of joy glittered in the convict's savage eye."

"'Are you speaking the truth?' he asked."

"'Silence!' said the Count; 'What interest could I have in deceiving you, when, on the contrary, my most eager desire is to prove my gratitude to you?'"

"'That is true; but in what way?'"

"'Listen to me. This ring I am wearing contains a poison of great subtlety. You have only to open the locket and inhale the contents to fall dead. This poison kills without suffering, and with the rapidity of lightning. One of my ancestors brought this ring from New Spain, where he was Viceroy. You are acquainted with the profound skill of the Indians in making poisons. Here is the ring; I offer it to you. Do you accept it?'"

"'Certainly!' he exclaimed, as he seized it, and quickly concealed it in his bosom. 'Thanks, my lord; you now owe me nothing, we are quits. You do more for me by the gift of this ring than I have done for you. Thanks to you, I and my poor comrades will be able to escape the ignominious fate that awaits us.'"

"They then went up to the other persons, who, on seeing the conversation ended, at once broke off their own."

"'Gentlemen,' said Red Arm, 'I thank you sincerely for having deigned to be present at the revelation which my conscience ordered me to make. Now I feel more tranquil. Only a few short moments separate me from death. Would it be asking too much to let me pass these few moments with my two comrades, who, condemned like myself, must also die today?'"

"'It is a last consolation,' said the chaplain."

"The governor of the prison reflected for a moment."

"'I see no inconvenience in granting you this request,' he at length said. 'I will give the necessary orders that your companions be brought here, and you will remain together till the moment of the execution.'"

"'Thanks, sir!' Red Arm gratefully exclaimed. 'This favour – the only one you could grant me, is of great value to me. Bless you for so much kindness!'"

"By the governor's order, the sentinel summoned the gaoler, who ran up and opened the dungeon."

"'Farewell, gentlemen,' said the convict; 'God be with you!'"

"They went out. The Count, after taking leave of the chaplain and the other two persons, left the prison, crossed the square, filled with an immense crowd, and hurried home. At this moment six o'clock struck. It was the hour appointed for the execution. Suddenly, as if by enchantment, a silence of death prevailed in this crowd, an instant before so noisy and agitated. Their vengeance was at length about to be satisfied."