The Insurgent Chief. Gustave Aimard
the reason, and accept, meanwhile, my humble and respectful apologies for the annoyances that, to my great regret, my presence occasions you?"
"You are in error, caballero," answered she, "as the meaning I attach to my words. I do not feel any annoyance, believe me, at your presence; only I am vexed at being obliged, at the good pleasure of the persons who govern us, to receive, without being prepared for it beforehand, the visits of envoys – very respectable, no doubt – but whose place should be anywhere else than in the room of the superior of a convent of women."
"That observation is perfectly just, Madame. It is not my fault that this has occurred. Unhappily it is, for the present, a necessity to which you must submit."
"So," resumed she, with some sharpness, "you see that I submit to it."
"You submit to it – yes, Madame," he pursued, in an insinuating tone, "but complaining at it, because you confound your friends with your enemies."
"I, Señor! You make a mistake, no doubt," said she, with compunction; "you do not reflect on who I am. What friends or what enemies can I have – I, a poor woman retired from the world, and devoted to the service of God?"
"You deceive yourself, or, which is more probable – excuse me, I beg, Madame – you do not wish to understand me."
"Perhaps, also, it is a little your fault, Señor," she resumed, with a slight tinge of irony, "owing to the obscurity in which your words are enveloped, unknown to yourself, no doubt."
Don Zeno repressed a gesture of impatience.
"Come, Madame," said he, after a pause, "let us be candid, shall we?"
"I wish nothing better for my part, Señor."
"You have here two prisoners?"
"I have two ladies that I have only received into this house on the express injunction of the governor of the town. Is it of these two ladies that you speak, Señor?"
"Yes, Señora, the same."
"Very well, they are here; I have, indeed, very strict orders with respect to them."
"I know it."
"These ladies have nothing, that I can see, to do with this conversation."
"On the contrary, Madame; it is them alone that it concerns; it is on their account alone that I have come here."
"Very well, Señor, continue; I am listening."
"These ladies have been made prisoners by me, and by me also conducted into this town."
"You could even add – into this convent, Señor; but continue."
"You are wrong in supposing, Madame, that I am the enemy of these unfortunate women; no one, on the contrary, interests himself more than I do in their fate."
"Ah!" said she, with irony.
"You do not believe me, Madame; indeed, appearances condemn me."
"Meanwhile, you condemn these unhappy ladies; is it not so, caballero?"
"Señora," he cried, with violence, but immediately controlling himself, "pardon me this outburst, Madame; but if you consent to understand me – "
"Is not that what I am doing at this moment, Señor?"
"Yes; you listen to me, it is true, Madame; but with your mind made up, beforehand, not to put faith in my words, however true they may be."
The abbess slightly shrugged her shoulders, and resumed: "It is, Señor, that you now tell me things which are so incredible. How can you expect, when you yourself have just admitted that you arrested these ladies, when it would have been so easy to allow them to continue their journey; that it is you who brought them into this town; that it is you who also brought them to this convent, in order to deprive them of all hope of flight – how can you expect that I should credit the professions of devotion of which you are now pleased to make a parade before me? It would be more than artlessness on my part, you must admit, and you Would have a right to believe me to be what I am not – that is to say, to speak frankly, a fool."
"Oh, Madame, there are many things which you do not know."
"Certainly, there are many things which people do not know in such cases; but come, let us come to the fact, since you yourself have proposed candour: prove to me that you really intend to speak the truth – tell me the things of which I am ignorant."
"I am quite willing to do so, Madame."
"Only I warn you that I perhaps know many of these things, and that if you wander from the right path I will pitilessly put you in it again. Does that course suit you?"
"Nothing better can be done, Madame."
"Well, speak; I promise not to interrupt you."
"You overwhelm me, Señora; but to acquaint you with the whole truth, I shall be obliged to enter into some details touching my family which, doubtless, will have little interest for you."
"I beg your pardon; I wish to be impartial, so I ought to know all."
And as she said these words, she looked stealthily towards the door of the adjoining room.
This look was not observed by the Montonero, who at this moment, his head sunk upon his breast, appeared to be collecting his thoughts.
At last, after a few minutes, he began —
"My family, as my name indicates, Madame, is of Portuguese origin; one of my ancestors was that Alvarez Cabral, to whom Portugal owes so many magnificent discoveries. Settled in Brazil from the period of the occupation, my ancestors established themselves in the province of São Paulo, and led, one after the other, by the example of their neighbours and friends, they made long and perilous expeditions into the interior of unknown lands, and several of them were reckoned among the most celebrated and the most bold Paulistas of the province. Pardon me these details, Madame, but they are indispensable; for the rest, I will abridge them as much as possible. My ancestor, as the result of a very lively discussion with the Viceroy of Brazil, Don Vasco Fernandez Cesar de Menezes, about 1723 – a discussion, the topics of which he never wished to reveal – saw his property placed under sequestration. He himself was obliged to take flight with all his family. A little patience, I beg you, Madame."
"You are unjust, Señor; these details, of which I was ignorant, interest me in the highest degree."
"My great-grandfather, with the wreck which he had succeeded in saving from his fortune – of considerable value, I hasten to say; for he was enormously rich – took refuge in the vice-royalty of Buenos Aires, in order to go back the more easily to Brazil, if fortune ceased to be adverse to him. But his hope was frustrated; he was to die in exile; his family was condemned never again to see their country. However, on various occasions propositions were made to him to enter into relations with the Portuguese Government, but he always haughtily rejected them, protesting that, never having committed any crime, he would not be absolved, and that especially – pay particular attention to this, Madame – the Government which had taken away his property had no claim to what remained to him; that he would never consent to pay for a pardon that they had no right to sell him. Subsequently, when my great-grandfather was on the point of death, and my grandfather and father were round his bed, although then very young, my father thought he understood the propositions made by the Portuguese Government, and which the old man had always obstinately repulsed."
"Ah!" said the abbess, beginning to take an interest in the recital, which was made with an air of truth which could not be questioned.
"Judge of the matter yourself, Madame," resumed the Montonero; "my great-grandfather, as I have said, feeling that he was about to die, had called my grandfather and my father round his bed; then, after making them swear on the Cross and on the Gospel never to reveal what he was about to tell them, he confided to them a secret of great importance for the future of our family; in a word, he stated to them that some time before his exile, in the last expedition that he had made, according to his custom, he had discovered diamond mines and deposits of gold of incalculable value. He entered into the minutest details as to the route that was to be followed to discover the country where these unknown riches were hidden; gave to my grandfather