The Bandolero: or, A Marriage among the Mountains. Reid Mayne
conjecture, all exerted in vain.
I felt a little vexed at having thrown away my sword-knot!
I was scarce consoled by the reflection, that my peace of mind was no longer in peril; for I was now almost indifferent to the opinion which the lady might entertain of me. I no longer cared a straw about the reciprocity of a passion the possibility of which had been troubling me. There would be none to reciprocate.
Thus chagrined, and a little by the same thought consoled, I had ceased to stare at the señorita; who certainly stared at me in surprise, and as I fancied, with some degree of indignation.
My rudeness had given her reason; and I could not help perceiving it.
I was about to make the best apology in my power, by hastening away from the spot – my eyes turned to the ground in a look of humiliation – when curiosity, more than aught else, prompted me to raise them once more to the window. I was desirous to know whether my repentance had been understood and acknowledged.
I intended it only for a transitory glance. It became fixed.
Fixed and fascinated! The woman that but six seconds before appeared only pretty – that three days before I had supposed supremely beautiful – was again the angel I had deemed her, – certainly the most beautiful woman I ever beheld!
What could have caused this change? Was it an illusion – some deception my senses were practising upon me?
If the lady saw reason to think me rude before, she had double cause now. I stood transfixed to the spot, gazing upon her with my eyes, my soul – my every thought concentrated in the glance.
And yet she seemed less frowning than before: for I was sure that she had frowned. I could not explain this, any more than I could account for the other transformation. Enough that I was gratified with the thought of having, not idly, bestowed my sword-knot.
For some time I remained under the spell of a speechless surprise.
It was broken – not by words, but by a new tableau suddenly presented to my view. Two women were at the window! One was the pretty prude who had well nigh chased me out of the street; the other, the lovely being who had attracted me into it!
At a glance I saw that they were sisters.
They were remarkably alike, both in form and features. Even the expression upon their countenances was similar – that similarity that may be seen between two individuals in the same family, known as a “family likeness.”
Both were of a clear olive complexion – the tint of the Moriseo-Spaniard – with large imperious eyes, and masses of black hair clustering around their necks. Both were tall, of full form, and shaped as if from the same mould; while in age – so far as appearance went – they might have been twins.
And yet, despite these many points of personal similarity, in the degree of loveliness they were vastly different. She who had been offended by my behaviour was a handsome woman, and only that – a thing of Earth; while her sister had the seeming of some divine creature whose home might be in Heaven!
Chapter Five.
A Nocturnal Sortie
From that day, each return of twilight’s gentle hour saw me in the Calle del Obispo. The sun was not more certain to set behind the snow-crowned Cordilleras, than I to traverse the street where dwelt Mercedes Villa-Señor.
Her name and condition had been easily ascertained. Any stray passenger encountered in the street could tell, who lived in the grand casa with the frescoed front.
“Don Eusebio Villa-Señor —un rico– with two daughters, muchachas muy lindas!” was the reply of him, to whom I addressed the inquiry.
I was further informed, that Don Eusebio was of Spanish descent, though a Mexican by birth; that in the veins of his daughters flowed only the Andalusian blood – the pure sangre azul. His was one of the familias principales of Puebla.
There was nothing in this knowledge to check my incipient admiration of Don Eusebio’s daughter. Quite the contrary.
As I had predicted, I was soon in the vortex of an impetuous passion; and without ever having spoken to her who inspired it!
There was no chance to hold converse with her. We were permitted no correspondence with the familias principales, beyond the dry formalities which occasionally occurred in official intercourse. But this was confined to the men. The señoritas were closely kept within doors, and as jealously concealed from us as if every house had been a harem.
My admiration was too earnest to be restrained by such trifling obstructions; and I succeeded in obtaining an occasional, though distant, view of her who had so interested me.
My glances – given with all the fervour of a persistent passion – with all its audacity – could scarce be misconstrued.
I had the vanity to think they were not; and that they were returned with looks that meant more than kindness.
I was full of hope and joy. My love affair appeared to be progressing towards a favourable issue; when that change, already recorded, came over the inhabitants of Puebla – causing them to assume towards us the attitude of hostility.
It is scarce necessary to say that the new state of things was not to my individual liking. My twilight saunterings had, of necessity, to be discontinued; and upon rare occasions, when I found a chance of resuming them, I no longer saw aught of Mercedes Villa-Señor!
She, too, had no doubt been terrified into that hermitical retirement – among the señoritas now universal.
Before this terrible time came about, my passion had proceeded too far to be restrained by any ideas of danger. My hopes had grown in proportion; and stimulated by these, I lost no opportunity of stealing out of quarters, and seeking the Calle del Obispo.
I was alike indifferent to danger in the streets, and the standing order to keep out of them. For a stray glance at her to whom I had surrendered my sword-knot, I would have given up my commission; and to obtain the former, almost daily did I risk losing the latter!
It was all to no purpose. Mercedes was no more to be seen.
Uncertainty about her soon became a torture; I could endure it no longer. I resolved to seek some mode of communication.
How fortunate for lovers that their thoughts can be symbolised upon paper! I thought so as I indited a letter, and addressed it to the “Dona Mercedes Villa-Señor.”
How to get it conveyed to her, was a more difficult problem.
There were men servants who came and went through the great gateway of the mansion. Which of them was the one least likely to betray me?
I soon fixed my reflections upon the cochero– a tall fellow in velveteens, whom I had seen taking out the sleek carriage horses. There was enough of the “picaro” in his countenance, to inspire me with confidence that he could be suborned for my purpose.
I determined on making trial of him. If a doubloon should prove sufficient bribe, my letter would be delivered.
In my twilight strolls, often prolonged to a late hour, I had noticed that this domestic sallied forth: as if, having done his day’s duty, he had permission to spend his evenings at the pulqueria. The plan would be to waylay him, on one of his nocturnal sorties; and this was what I determined on doing.
On the night of that same day on which I indited the epistle, the Officer of the Guard chanced to be my particular friend. It was not chance either: since I had chosen the occasion. I had no difficulty, therefore, in giving the countersign; and, wrapped in a cloth cloak – intended less as a protection against the cold than to conceal my uniform – I proceeded onward upon my errand of intrigue.
I was favoured by the complexion of the night. It was dark as coal tar – the sky shrouded with a thick stratum of thunder clouds.
It was not yet late enough for the citizens to have forsaken the streets. There were hundreds of them, strolling to and fro, all natives of the place – most of them men of