Volume I Part 14 (1/2)

It was the hunchback Najara, whose quick eye detected the vanis.h.i.+ng hair, and who now ran forward in pursuit, followed by a confused throng of soldiers, from among whom suddenly darted the cavalier Don Francisco de Guzman.

Juan had reached the door. The cry of Najara a.s.sured him that he was discovered; and conscious that his act of generosity was, or of right ought to be, considered little better than sheer treason, the varied pa.s.sions of hope, grief, indignation and wrath, which had been, the whole evening, chasing one another through his bosom, gave place at once to the single feeling of despair. He felt that he was now lost.

At this very moment, while his brain was confused, and his heart dying within him, a laugh sounded in his ear, and he heard, even above the clamorous shouts of the soldiers, the voice of Guzman, exclaiming,

”What think'st thou _now_, senor? Art thou conquered?--Stand! I arrest thee.”

He turned; the cavalier was within reach of his arm, and the malignant sneer was yet writhing over his visage. The words of scorn, the look of exultation, were intolerable; the rapier was already naked in his hand, and almost before he was himself aware of the act, it was aimed, with a deadly lunge, at Don Francisco's throat.

”The deed has slain thee!” cried Guzman, leaping backwards, so as to avoid a thrust too fiercely sudden to be parried, and then again rus.h.i.+ng forward, before he could be supported by the soldiers, who had also recoiled at this show of resistance; ”the act has slain thee; and so take the fate thou art seeking!”

As he spoke, he advanced his weapon, which was before unsheathed, against an adversary, whom the recollection of a thousand wrongs had inflamed to frenzy, but who could scarcely be supposed to have retained, during a year of servitude and suffering, the skill in arms, which once made him an equal antagonist. Nevertheless, Guzman's pa.s.s was turned aside, and returned with such interest, that, had the field been fair and uninc.u.mbered, it is questionable how long he might have lived to repeat it. As it was, the combat was cut short by the interposition of the bloodhound, who, whining, at first, as if unwilling to attack a cavalier so long and so well known as Don Francisco, and yet unable to remain neuter, at last added his fierce yell to the clash of the weapons, and decided the battle by springing against Guzman's breast. It was perhaps fortunate for the cavalier that he did. He had a breastplate on; and, for this reason, Juan aimed the few blows that were made, full at his throat, with the fatal determination of one, who, hopeless of life himself, had sworn a vow to his soul that his enemy should die. It was but the third thrust he had made, (they had scarce occupied so many seconds,) and it was directed with such irresistible skill and violence, that the point of the weapon was already gliding through Guzman's beard and razing his skin, when the weight of Befo's a.s.sault, for the third time successful, hurled him from his feet, and thus saved his life, at the expense of a severe gash made through his right cheek and ear.

The whole of this encounter, from the first attack to the fall of Guzman, had not occupied the s.p.a.ce of twenty seconds; and Don Francisco was at the mercy of his rival, before even the rapid Najara could advance a spear to protect him. It was not improbable that Juan would have taken a deadly advantage of the mishap, for, as he had declared, in a cooler moment, he hated Don Francisco, and his blood was now boiling.

If such, however, was his purpose, he was prevented putting it into execution by another one of those opposing accidents, which seemed this night, to pursue him with such unrelenting rigour.

Before he could advance a single step, a cavalier, bareheaded and unarmed, save that he flourished a naked sword, sprang from the throng of soldiers, followed by the senor Camarga, now without his masking habit, the latter of whom cried with fierce emphasis, all the time, ”Kill him! cut him down! kill him!” until the soldiers caught up the cry, and the whole pa.s.sage echoed with their furious exclamations. These served but the end of still further exasperating the choler of the young man, thus beset as it seemed by the tyranny of numbers; and seeing the bareheaded cavalier advancing against him, and already betwixt him and his fallen rival, he turned upon him with fresh fury.

”Hah!” cried the new antagonist, when Juan's weapon clashed against his own; ”traitor! dost thou provoke thy fate?”

The words were not out of his lips, before Juan perceived that he had raised his rapier against the bosom of Cortes. He beheld, in the countenance which he had once loved, the scowl of an evil spirit, and the fire flas.h.i.+ng from the general's eyes, was no longer to be mistaken for aught but the revelation of the deadliest hatred. He flung down his sword, resisting no longer, and the next instant would have been run through the body, but that Befo, fearing to attack, and yet unable to resist the impulse of fidelity, sprang up, with a howl, and seized the weapon with his teeth. Before Cortes could disengage it, and again turn it upon the unfortunate youth, the Mexican fugitive glided from the apartment, threw himself before the latter, and taking the point of the weapon in his hand, placed it against his own naked breast. Then bowing his head submissively, he stood in tranquillity, expecting his death.

At his sudden appearance, the soldiers set up a shout, and Cortes was sufficiently diverted from his b.l.o.o.d.y purpose, to smooth his frowning brow into an air of official sternness.

”Olin is the prisoner of the Teuctli,” murmured the captive, in words scarce understood by any one present, except Juan.

”Where bide mine Alguazils?” demanded the Captain-General, without condescending to notice the Mexican any further than merely by removing the rapier from his grasp. ”Hah, Guzman! thou art hurt, art thou? By heaven,”--But he checked the oath, when he observed that Guzman, already on his feet, notwithstanding the frightful appearance that was given him by the blood running down his cheek and neck, and drippling slowly from his beard, replied to the exclamation with a smile of peculiar coolness: ”Get thee to a surgeon. Where bide the Alguazils? Is there no officer to rid me of a traitor?”

”Senor General,” said Juan, sullenly, ”I am no traitor--”

He was interrupted by the appearance of two men, carrying batons, who bustled from among the crowd, and laid hands upon him. The readiest and the most officious was Villafana, who concealed a vast deal of agitation under an air of extravagant zeal.

”Ha, Villafana! art thou found at last?” cried Don Hernan, with apparent anger. ”Hast thou no better care of thy ward on the water-side, but that spies may come stealing into my garden?”

”May it please your excellency,” said Villafana, recovering his wit, ”I was neither gambling nor asleep; but--'Slid, this is a pretty piece of villany! Oho, senor mutineer, this is hanging-work?--Speak not a word, as you love life.”--This was spoken apart into Juan's ear.--”What is your excellency's will, touching the prisoner?”

”Have him to prison, and see that he escape not.”

These words were p.r.o.nounced with a coolness and gravity that amazed all who had witnessed the rage, which, but a moment before, had shaken the frame of the Captain-General. ”And you, ye idle fellows,” he continued, addressing the soldiers, ”get you to your quarters, to your watch, or to your beds. Begone.--Why loiter ye, Villafana? Conduct away the prisoner.”

Juan raised his eyes once more to the general, and seemed as if he would have spoken; but, confused and bewildered by the extraordinary termination of the drama of the day, chilled by frowns, oppressed by a consciousness of having provoked his fate, his head sunk in a deep dejection on his breast, and he suffered himself to be led silently away.

A gleam of light, such as flares up at night from a decaying brand, just lost in ashes, sprang up in the leader's eyes, as they followed the steps of the unhappy youth, until, pa.s.sing from that door, which he had so vainly sought to gain with the Mexican, he vanished from sight. Its l.u.s.tre was hidden from all but the captive, who, maintaining throughout the whole scene, the self-possession, characteristic of all the American race, from the pygmies of the Frozen Sea to the giants of Patagonia, did not lose the opportunity thus afforded, of diving into the thoughts of the Invader.

As soon as Juan Lerma had departed, with the ma.s.s of the soldiers, Cortes turned to the Mexican, and with a mild countenance, and a gentle voice, which were designed to convey the proper interpretation of his Castilian speech, said,

”Let my young friend, the Tlatoani, be at peace, and fear not; no harm is designed him.”