Chapter Forty Nine. A Tale of Starvation
It was the garden of Don Ignacio’s casa de campo; the ladies, his daughter and the Condesa. The lovely night, with balm in the air and a bright moon shining through the sky, had drawn them out, and they strolled through the grounds, keeping step, as it were, to that matchless melody, the song of the czenzontle. But note of no nightingale was in their thoughts, which were engrossed by graver themes.
“’Tis so strange our never hearing from them, and not a word of them. What do you make of it, Ysabel? Is it a bad sign?”
The question was asked by the Doña Luisa.
“That we haven’t heard from them is – in a way,” responded the Countess. “Yet that may be explained, too. The probability is, from the roads being all watched and guarded, as we know they are, they’d be cautious about communicating with us. If they’ve sent a messenger – which I hope they haven’t – he must have been intercepted and made prisoner. And then, the message; that might compromise us. But I know Ruperto will be careful. Not to have heard of them is all for the best – the very best. It should almost assure us that they’re still free, and safe somewhere. Had they been recaptured, we’d have known before this. All Mexico would be talking about it.”
“True,” assented Don Ignacio’s daughter, with a feeling of relief. “They cannot have been retaken. But I wonder where they are now.”
“So I myself, Luisita. I hope, however, not at that old monastery of which Ruperto gave me a description in one of his letters. It’s somewhere up in the mountains. But with the country all around so occupied by troops it would seem an unsafe place. I trust they’ve got over the Sierra, and down to Acapulco. If they have, we needn’t feel so very anxious about them.”
“Why not, Ysabel?”
“Why not? Ah! that’s a question you haven’t yet come to understand. But never mind the reason now. You’ll know it in good time; and when you do, I’ve no fear but you’ll be satisfied; your father too.”
Don Ignacio’s daughter was both puzzled and surprised at the strange words. But she knew the Countess had strange ways; and, though a bosom friend, was not without some secrets she kept to herself. This was one of them, no doubt, and she forebore pressing for an explanation.
What the Condesa hinted at was that disaffection in the south, the expected pronunciamento, which, if successful, would not only depose the Dictator, but of course also his Cabinet Ministers, her friend’s father among them. With some knowledge of coming events, she declined imparting this to the Doña Luisa through delicacy. Right was she, also, in her surmise as to the messenger; none had been intercepted, none having been sent out, just for the reason surmised by her.
They had made a turn or two of the grounds, thus conversing, when both came to a sudden stop, simultaneously uttering exclamations of alarm, “Santissima!” and “Madre de Dios!”
“What can it be?” gasped Doña Luisa. “Is it a man?”
No wonder she should so doubtingly interrogate, since her question referred to that strange creature on the top of the wall, seeming more ape than human being.
That he was human, however, was to be proved by his being gifted with the power of speech, put forth on the instant after. Before the Countess could make answer to the question (of course overheard by him), he interposed, saying —
“Pray, don’t be alarmed, your ladyships, at a poor miserable creature like me. I know that my body is anything but shapely; but my soul – that, I trust, is different. But, Señoritas, surely you remember me?”
While speaking, he had raised himself into an upright attitude, and the moonlight falling upon him showed his shape in all its grotesqueness of outline. This, with his words, at once recalled their having seen him before. Yes; it was the enano, whom the big Texan had swung up to the box of their carriage.
Astonishment hindering reply to his interrogatory, he continued —
“Well, your ladyships, I’m sorry you don’t recognise me; the more from my being one of your best friends, or, at all events, the friend of your friends.”
“Of whom do you speak, sir?” asked the Countess, first to recover composure, the Doña Luisa echoing the interrogatory. Both were alike anxious for the answer, better than half divining.
“Two worthy gentlemen, who, like my poor self, had the misfortune to get shut up in the Acordada; more than that, set to work in the filthy sewers. Thanks to the luck of your ladyship’s carriage coming past at a convenient time we all escaped; and so far have been successful in eluding the search that’s been made for us.”
“You have succeeded – all?” both asked in a breath their eagerness throwing aside reserve.
“Oh yes; as I’ve said, so far. But it’s been hard times with us in our hiding-place; so hard, indeed, we might well have wished ourselves back in the prison.”
“How so, sir? Tell us all! You needn’t fear to speak out; we’ll not betray you.”
“Por Dios! I’m not afraid of your ladyships doing that. Why should I, since I’m here on account of your own friends, and on an errand of mercy?”
“An errand of mercy?”
“Yes. And one of necessity as well. Ah! that far more.”
“Go on, sir! Please tell us what it is!”
“Well, Señoritas, I’ve been deputed on a foraging expedition. For we’re in a terrible strait – all four of us. You may remember there were four.”
“We do. But, how in a terrible strait?”
“How? Why, for want of food; starving. Up in the mountains, where we’ve been hiding for now nearly a month, all we’ve had to live upon was wild fruits and roots; often eating them raw, too. We daren’t any of us venture down, as the roads all round have been beset by spies and soldiers. It’s only in sheer desperation I’ve stolen through them; the Señor Don Ruperto sending me to San Augustin in the hope I might be able to pick up some provisions. I was just slipping the village the back way, when an alguazil coming along made it necessary for me to climb up here and hide myself. The unlucky part of it all is, that even if I get safe in, I haven’t the wherewith to buy the eatables, and must beg them. That I fear won’t be easy; people are so hard-hearted.”
For a time his surprised listeners stood silent, giving way to sad reflections. Florencio and Ruperto starving!
“May I hope,” continued the lying wretch, “your ladyships will let me look upon this accidental encounter as a God-send, and that you will give me something to buy – ”
“Oh, sir,” interrupted the Countess, “we will give you that. Luisa, have you any money in your purse? I haven’t in mine – nothing to signify.”
“Nor I either – how unfortunate! We must – ”
“Never mind money, your ladyships; money’s worth will do quite as well. A reloja, rings, anything in the way of jewellery. I chance to know a place in the village where I can convert them into cash.”
“Here, take this!” cried the Countess, handing him her watch, the same which had been hypothecated to José, but redeemed by a money payment.
“And this!” said the Doña Luisa, also holding out a watch, both of which he speedily took possession of.
“’Tis very generous of your ladyships,” he said, stowing them away among his rags; “the proceeds of these ought to support us for a long time, even allowing for the reduced rate I’ll have to accept from the pawnbroker. Afterwards we must do the best we can.”
As he spoke, his little sparkling eyes were avariciously bent upon certain other objects he saw scintillating in the moonlight – bracelets, rings upon their fingers and in their ears. The hint was hardly needed. Enough for them the thought that more help might be required by those dear to them, and at a time when they could not extend it.
In less than five minutes after both had divested themselves of every article in the way of gold or gems adorning them. They even plucked the pendants from their ears, thrusting all indiscriminately into the outstretched hands of the hunchback.
“Gracias! – mil gracias!” he ejaculated, crowding everything into his pocket. “But your ladyships will scarce care to accept thanks from me. ’Twill be more to your satisfaction to know that your generosity will be the saving of valuable lives, two of them, if I mistake not, very dear to you. Oh! won’t the Señores Don Ruperto and Don Florencio be delighted at the tale I shall take back – the Virgin seeing me safe! Not for the provisions I may carry, but how I obtained the means of purchasing them. But as time’s pressing, Señorita, I won’t say a word more, only Adios!”
Without waiting for permission to depart, or rejoinder of any kind, he slipped down from the wall, and disappeared on its other side.
It was an abrupt leave-taking, which alike surprised and disappointed them. For they had many questions to ask, and intended asking him – many anxieties they wished set at rest.