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."

"That is some distance from the city; is it long since my brother left it?"

"The moon was about to disappear and the Southern Cross alone shed its splendid light upon the earth, when Joan commenced his journey."

It was nearly eighteen leagues from the village of San Miguel to the city of Valdivia. Don Tadeo was astonished. He took from the table a glass, which he filled to the brim with aguardiente, and presented it to the messenger, saying —

"My brother will drink this coui of firewater; probably, the dust of the road sticking to his palate prevents him from speaking as easily as he could wish."

The Indian smiled; his eyes sparkled greedily; he took the glass and emptied it at a draught.

"Good," he said, smacking his lips. "My father is hospitable; he is truly the Great Eagle of the Whites."

"Does my brother come from the chief of his tribe?" Don Tadeo continued.

"No." Joan replied; "it was Curumilla that sent me."

"Curumilla!" the three men cried.

Don Tadeo breathed more freely.

"Curumilla is my friend," he said; "no harm has happened to him, I hope?"

"Here are his poncho and his hat," Joan replied.

"Heavens!" Louis exclaimed – "he is dead!"

"No," said the Indian, "Curumilla is brave and wise. Joan had carried off the young, pale, blue-eyed maiden; Curumilla might have killed Joan; he was not willing to do so; he preferred making a friend of him."

"Curumilla is good," Don Tadeo replied; "his heart is large and his soul is not cruel."

"Joan was the chief of those who carried off the young white girl. Curumilla changed clothes with him," the Indian continued, sententiously; "and said 'Go and seek the Great Eagle of the Whites, and tell him that Curumilla will save the young maiden, or perish!' Joan has come."

"My brother has acted well," said Don Tadeo.

"My father is satisfied," he said – "that is enough."

"And my brother carried off the pale girl? Was he well paid for that?"

"The great cavale with the black eyes is generous," the Indian said, smiling.

"Ah! I knew it!" cried Don Tadeo, "still that woman! – still that demon!"

Louis rose and said, in a voice trembling with emotion, "My friend, Doña Rosario must be saved!"

"Thanks, boundless thanks, for your devotion, my friend!" said Don Tadeo; "but, you are very weak."

"Of what consequence is that!" the young man exclaimed eagerly. "Were I to perish in the task, I swear to you, Don Tadeo de León, by the honour of my name, that I will not rest till Doña Rosario is free."

"My friend," Don Tadeo said, "three men – three devoted men, are already on the trail of my daughter."

"Your daughter?" Louis said with astonishment.

"Alas! yes, my friend, my daughter! Why should I have any secrets from you? That blue-eyed angel is my daughter! the only joy left to me in this world."

"Oh! we will recover her! We must!" Louis cried with great emotion.

"My friend," Don Tadeo continued, "the three men of whom I spoke to you are at this moment endeavouring to deliver the poor child. However dearly it costs me, I think it is best to wait."

Louis moved uneasily.

"Yes, I comprehend that this inaction is painful to you. Alas! do you think it is less so to a father's heart? Don Louis, I endure frightful torments. But I resign myself, while shedding tears of blood at not being able to do anything."

"That is true," the wounded man admitted; "we must wait, Poor Father! Poor daughter!"

"Yes," said Don Tadeo, faintly, "pity me, my friend, pity me!"

"But," the Frenchman continued, "this inactivity cannot last. You see I am strong, I can walk."

"You are a hero as to heart and devotion," Don Tadeo said with a smile; "and I know not how to thank you."

"Oh! how much the better if you regain hope," cried Louis, who had blushed at his friend's words.

Don Tadeo turned towards Joan.

"Does my brother remain here?" he asked.

"I am at my father's orders," the Indian replied.

"May I trust my brother?"

"Joan has but one heart and one life."

"My brother has spoken well; I will be grateful to him."

The Indian bowed.

"Let my brother return here on the third sun; he shall place us upon the track of Curumilla."

"On the third sun Joan will be ready."

And saluting the three gentlemen gracefully, the Indian retired to take a few hours of a repose which his great exertions had rendered necessary.